Tag: life

Reinventing Yourself: Why Pressing Pause Might Be the Best Way to Hit Play Again

.Reading time 11 minutes.

If you’ve ever felt like you were living life on a treadmill, cranked up to a speed that’s just a little too fast girl, you are not alone. For years, I thought the answer to feeling stuck was to sprint faster, work harder, and answer emails at lightning speed. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t. But as someone who once took a solid four-year break from the dating world to heal, re-center, and rediscover my own groove, I’ve learned that sometimes, the best way to move forward is to hit pause. Because, as it turns out, reinvention isn’t always about dramatic changes it’s often found in those small, daily habits that give us space to breathe, reflect, and actually enjoy this chaotic ride called life.

So, whether you’re navigating a layoff, grief, the end of a relationship, or just trying to figure out how to thrive in a city like Toronto (where a condo costs more than your childhood home), here’s what I’ve discovered about the art of self-reinvention and why pressing pause might just be the best way to press play again.

The Power of the Pause: Why I Stopped Running on Empty

There’s a reason why most self-help books tell you to “take time for yourself” is because it works. I used to think that slowing down meant falling behind, that if I wasn’t constantly moving, I’d miss out. But after losing my brother, I realized I needed to hit pause…not just on love, but on the constant race to “keep up.” And it’s in that pause that I found space to actually listen to myself.

Taking time away from dating and focusing on healing wasn’t easy, but it was necessary. I poured my energy into my work, sure, but I also learned how to pour into myself. And while it might sound cliché, there’s nothing like waking up on a Saturday morning and realizing you don’t have to rush out the door for brunch plans you didn’t even want to make. Turns out, sometimes self-care is about giving yourself permission to just be.

The Secret to Working for Myself Before Working for Anyone Else

Here’s a little truth bomb I wish I’d known years ago: before I could work for someone else, I had to learn how to work for myself. And no, I don’t mean quitting my job and becoming a full-time influencer (though hey, if you’re into that, more power to you). I mean creating a routine that made me the priority, even if it was just for an hour or two each morning.

Before I head into the office (or, you know, shuffle from my bedroom to the home office in my favorite sweater dress), I make time for what matters to me. For me, that means starting my day with movement whether it’s a Peloton ride, yoga, or a quick strength session to remind myself that my body can do hard things. After that, I tend to my 20ish plants (and yes, they each have a name and a specific watering schedule). There’s just something grounding about seeing those little green guys thrive, even when I can’t keep track of my own laundry schedule.

And then there’s my morning ritual: a big cup of bone broth, my favorite music playing in the background, and a few deep breaths before I even think about checking my teams or slack. I promise you, the emails can wait. This little slice of “me time” has become my non-negotiable. It’s like putting on your own oxygen mask before helping someone else, except the oxygen mask is actually a steaming cup of collagen-rich goodness that makes you feel like you can tackle the world or at least the latest Zoom meeting.

Little Acts of Self-Reinvention: The Not-So-Dramatic Truth

When people think about reinvention, they often picture a movie montage: quitting a toxic job, cutting off all your hair, and moving to Bali (okay, maybe that last one’s just me). But the truth is, most reinventions happen in the small moments; like deciding to walk to work instead of cramming into a packed subway car or learning how to make a bomb iced mocha at home instead of spending $7 every day at the trendy café down the street.

For me, it was about letting go of the idea that I had to be a certain version of “put together” to be worthy whether that meant in the eyes of a partner, my boss, or even my friends. I stopped trying to be everything to everyone, and I started focusing on what actually made me feel alive. Some days, that’s a killer presentation at work; other days, it’s eating sushi on my couch while binge-watching reality TV. Balance, right?

Creating Space for the Unexpected (Even When Life Forces the Pause)

Funny thing happens when life doesn’t go as planned – you end up discovering parts of yourself you hadn’t met yet. When I was laid off after Thanksgiving, it felt like everything I’d been building suddenly vanished overnight. But instead of rushing to fill the space with noise, I let it be quiet for a while.

And in that stillness, I started to breathe again. I reconnected with the things that make me me – watching my favourite sports teams play without guilt, writing just for the joy of it, making silly, creative content that reminded me not everything has to be so serious. I found excitement in small things again: nailing a new recipe, hitting a PR on the bike, spending a Monday doing absolutely nothing.

It wasn’t the kind of “unexpected” I’d have chosen, but it’s exactly what I needed. Because when everything familiar falls away, you’re left with a blank canvas and sometimes, that’s where the most authentic version of you begins to take shape.

Tangible Tips for Pressing Pause (Without Feeling Guilty)

Look, I get it—if you’re anything like me, the idea of slowing down can feel counterintuitive. But here are a few little ways to start:

  • Start Your Day, Your Way: Even 10 minutes of stretching, journaling, or sipping your coffee or bobe broth in peace can set the tone for the day. Think of it as “me time” insurance.
  • Unplug from the Hustle: It’s okay to let some texts sit unread or to watch a sunset without taking a picture. Trust me, Instagram will survive.
  • Prioritize Joy: Remember when hobbies were just for fun, not side hustles? Bring that back! Whether it’s painting, reading, or making a slow and extravagant meal, find time for things that make you smile.
  • Trust your gut: I’ve been drawn to a few serendipitous events and people over the past few weeks. For example, last week, I entered to participate in this incredible concept of having dinner with 8 strangers hosted by an incredible artist that I have admired for years, and I sat with all of these incredible women and we talked about life and love and our passions and I left feeling genuinely excited for what the universe has in store for me next.

At the end of the day reinventing yourself doesn’t always mean starting over it can just mean slowing down enough to appreciate where you are right now. For me, it was once about learning that I could be my own best company before inviting anyone else into my world. Today, it’s about rest and finding my purpose and passion in life again. It’s about knowing that your journey isn’t defined by how fast you get there, but by how fully you live along the way.

So, to all my fellow thirty-somethings navigating downtown life, busy careers, layoffs, and that elusive work-life balance: remember that it’s okay to hit pause.

Who knows? You might just find that the things you’ve been chasing have a way of finding you when you least expect it. And if not, well, there’s always another plant to adopt.

What little daily rituals have helped you find your own version of “pause”? Drop a comment below, because we could all use some new self-care inspo!

Between Calgary and Toronto: A Love Letter to My Two Homes (and All the People I’ve Collected Along the Way)

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Growing up, I thought I’d find my forever home by the time I hit my mid-twenties. But here I am, 34, and if my life were a travel map, it’d look like a game of hopscotch. I spent my first 26 years in Calgary (minus that year-long detour in Turkey and a semester in Spain where I mostly ate my way through every tapas bar I could find), and now I’ve clocked seven years in Toronto. But honestly? I still haven’t found that elusive “forever” home.

Yet, what I have found is a deep love for both cities and an appreciation for the incredible humans I’ve met along the way—whether they were the kind to shovel snow off my car in Calgary or the kind to share a knowing nod when the Toronto subway is yet again delayed. So, let’s take a little stroll through my two homes, filled with all the quirks, love, and maybe a bit of homesickness, too.

Calgary: The Original Love Story Ah, Calgary. My first true love. Picture this: the majestic Rockies, a Stampede that’s 10% rodeo and 90% deep-fried everything, and winters that test your will to live. This city raised me, taught me how to survive a -30°C day (hint: it involves layers and sheer stubbornness), and gave me my first taste of freedom, driving down Deerfoot with the mountains in my rearview mirror.

But Calgary isn’t just about cowboy boots and chinooks (those warm winter winds that feel like a miracle). It’s the kind of place where you can leave your car running to warm up in winter and not worry that it’ll disappear. It’s where people smile at you on the street (even if you’re bundled up like a walking sleeping bag). It’s where I built friendships that go back decades and where people still ask, “You’re really living in Toronto now?” like I’ve joined the dark side.

Sure, sometimes I miss the mountain views and being able to see for miles without a skyscraper in sight. But there’s a certain charm in Calgary’s earnestness, the way everyone shows up for each other—even if it’s just to help push your car out of a snowbank.

That Year in Turkey and a Semester of Tapas: The Side Quests Before we get to my Toronto era, let’s take a quick detour. There was that year in Turkey where I learned how to bargain at the markets and ate baklava like it was a full-time job. And let’s not forget that semester in Spain, which was basically me “studying” Spanish culture through churros and tortilla Española. These side quests taught me that the best way to make friends is to share food—and that sometimes, you need to get a little lost to find yourself.

These adventures gave me a taste of life beyond Alberta, and while I didn’t come back with a forever home, I did return with a sense of wanderlust and the realization that the world is a lot bigger than my childhood cul-de-sac.

Toronto: The City That Stole My Heart (And My Rent Budget) And then, there’s Toronto. If Calgary is my hometown sweetheart, Toronto is the unpredictable fling that turned into something deeper. Sure, it’s got its flaws—like housing prices that make me question my life choices, and the traffic that has me considering a second career as a subway announcer (because, honestly, I think I could do a better job). But for every TTC delay, there’s a new restaurant to discover, a hidden park to explore, or a random street festival that I stumble upon on my way to grab groceries.

Toronto is where I learned how to parallel park without having a mild panic attack. It’s where I discovered that it’s totally normal to pay $7 for a latte, as long as it comes with oat milk and a sprinkle of artisanal foam. And it’s where I’ve met people from every corner of the world, each with their own stories and quirks that make this city feel like a constant adventure.

Toronto has a rhythm to it—a little chaotic, a little intense, but with moments of pure magic. It’s walking through Kensington Market on a Sunday afternoon, discovering the best dim sum in Chinatown, or getting lost in the endless shelves of a secondhand bookstore in the Annex. It’s a city that’s constantly evolving, and somehow, it’s made space for me, too.

Collecting People, One City at a Time The real reason I can’t choose between Calgary and Toronto? It’s the people. In Calgary, my friends have become like family—people who knew me back when I still thought side bangs were a good idea. They’re the ones who show up at my parents’ house for Thanksgiving, even when I’m not in town, and who still text me memes that only make sense if you’ve lived through a prairie winter.

In Toronto, I’ve found a new kind of tribe—people who share my love for urban hikes (a.k.a. wandering through alleys for the best street art), who will happily spend an afternoon café-hopping with me, and who understand the struggle of finding affordable rent in the city’s labyrinth of overpriced condos. It’s a place where I’ve built new traditions, like grabbing sushi takeout and watching the sunset at the waterfront or discovering which of my friends can survive the heat of the latest hipster hot sauce.

And sure, sometimes it’s hard not knowing where I’ll eventually settle down. But there’s a certain beauty in feeling at home wherever you are—in knowing that no matter which city I land in, I’ve got people who’ll make me feel like I belong.

Home Isn’t Just a Place—It’s a Feeling So, maybe I haven’t found my forever home yet. But maybe that’s okay. Maybe home isn’t just about where you live, but about the people who fill those places with meaning—the friends who become your chosen family, the barista who remembers your complicated coffee order, the neighbors who wave as you navigate Toronto’s street parking like a pro.

It’s about finding a little piece of home in every city you visit, whether it’s in the mountain air of Calgary or the eclectic buzz of Toronto. It’s knowing that while I might not have picked a place to plant my roots for good, I’ve created a life that feels full, connected, and a little bit like a cross-country adventure.

Calgary, Toronto, or wherever life takes me next—each place has left its mark on my heart (and probably on my Instagram feed, too). And while I might not know where I’ll end up, I do know that I’m grateful for every friendship, every city skyline, and every moment that’s made me feel at home, even if just for a little while.

Are you a fellow city-hopper or have you found your forever home? Let me know your thoughts in the comments—I’d love to hear where you’ve planted your roots (or where you’re still wandering)!

Grieving with Burgers, Long Walks, and Rituals from Around the World

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Grief is a strange, winding road—sometimes, it’s an intense cry-fest in the car, and other times, it’s laughing at that one ridiculous inside joke you had with your loved one. Five years ago, I lost my little brother, Phillip, and it’s been a rollercoaster since. Phillip was a bright light—an award-winning TA, a talented tennis player, and a hilarious, sometimes infuriating presence in my life. As I remember him today, I want to share not only how I keep his memory alive but also some beautiful grief rituals from around the world. If you’re navigating your own grief, maybe you’ll find something here that resonates, or at least makes you feel a little less alone in the process.

When Phillip passed, I found myself in “do mode”—planning a funeral like I was running an event, complete with a mental checklist and spreadsheets. Years of wedding and event planning surprisingly came in handy, though I never thought I’d use those skills for this. Now, if anyone needs tips on planning a service, I’m your girl. And yes, I’m laughing at the irony as I type this.

Over the years, I’ve developed my own little grief rituals: I walk for Phillip on the two days that matter most—his birthday (January 11th) and the day he left us (September 13th). Walking was his thing (he called them “ate too much” walks or “mental health” walks), so it’s my way of connecting with him. Plus, I eat burgers and sushi because, let’s be real, he would have approved. It’s my time to embrace all the feelings—sadness, anger, gratitude, and even the occasional laugh at the ridiculous memories we shared.

Grief is universal, but the ways we honor our loved ones are as varied as our personalities. Here are a few grief rituals from around the world that might give you some new ideas for how to remember your loved one:

  • Día de los Muertos (Mexico): This isn’t your typical day of mourning. It’s a full-on celebration where families create altars adorned with marigolds, photos, and the favorite foods of their loved ones. It’s believed that on this day, the spirits come back to visit, and I can’t help but think how Phillip would’ve loved popping in for a quick hello, probably to critique my taste in music, or what show I was watching while eating all the sushi.
  • Bon Festival (Japan): Every summer, Japanese families celebrate Obon, where they believe their ancestors’ spirits return home. They light lanterns to guide them back, and the whole thing wraps up with the Bon Odori dance. Imagine a family reunion where the guests are a little more… ethereal. It’s a comforting thought, though—like the ultimate “they’re always with us” feeling.
  • Mourning Beads (Middle East): In Iran and Turkey, it’s common to use prayer beads to recite verses in memory of those who’ve passed. I like the idea of having something tangible to hold onto during tough moments—kind of like a stress ball, but with deeper spiritual meaning.
  • Ghanaian Fantasy Coffins (Ghana): Ghanaians know how to make a statement, even in death. They craft custom coffins that reflect the deceased’s passions or profession, from cars to fish to, I kid you not, airplanes. It’s a way to send someone off with style, and honestly, I think Phillip would’ve liked that. Maybe a tennis racket-shaped coffin for him?
  • Sky Burials (Tibet): This one’s a bit intense, but the symbolism is beautiful. In Tibet, some families leave their loved ones on mountaintops to be consumed by birds, symbolizing the soul’s return to the natural world. It’s a powerful reminder of the interconnectedness of life, even if it’s not quite my cup of tea.

For me, walking 1000 steps x the age he would be on his birthday and on the anniversary of Phillip’s passing is like a cardio session for the soul. It’s not just about the steps, though—each one is a little meditation, a moment to reflect, laugh, cry, and occasionally mutter, “You owe me for this one, buddy” under my breath. I even eat his favorite foods on those days. Yes, it’s a weird way to feel close to him, but sometimes grief makes you do strange things—like eating an entire burger and pretending he’s there making fun of my clumsy eating habits.

We also work with the Canadian Mental Health Association (CMHA) to help other young people get the support they need through Equipped. It’s a small way of turning our loss into something meaningful, of giving Phillip’s story a chance to help others.

Everyone’s grief looks different. For some, it’s a quiet moment by a graveside; for others, it’s turning up the music and dancing with their tears. If you’re struggling to find your way, I hope some of these rituals resonate with you—or at least make you feel a little more human in the chaos of it all. You’re allowed to cry, to laugh, to eat too many fries, or to scream-sing in the car. The important part is finding what helps you hold onto that connection, whatever that looks like.

Five years in, I’m still figuring this out. Grief doesn’t have a timeline—it’s more like a messy, ongoing conversation with someone who isn’t physically there anymore. But I hold onto the belief that love doesn’t die. It sticks around, like glitter after a party. It shows up in the walks, the cheeseburgers, and the little moments where I feel Phillip beside me, probably rolling his eyes but smiling all the same.

If you are grieving, please know you’re not alone. Take a deep breath, do what you need to do, and remember that sometimes, it’s okay to laugh through the tears. And if you or someone you know needs support, check out Equipped by CMHA Calgary, a resource center made possible by a donation in Phillip’s name.

Do you have a ritual or tradition that helps you remember a loved one? Drop it in the comments—let’s create a space where we can share our stories and support one another, one awkward, beautiful, messy memory at a time.