A part of me feels like I’ve been carrying a tiny spark, flickering in and out, never quite catching fire.
The weight of the past year has felt unbearable at times. For most people, Labor Day weekend is about celebrating the last few days of summer. Last year, we did just that—we spent the day kayaking down the river, relaxing, and laughing. We fell asleep that night blissfully unaware that we would wake up to an entirely different reality.
I had been on fire, personally—growing as a person, pursuing my passions, and chasing a life full of adventure and enthusiasm. We had just sold a business we owned for 20 years, freeing ourselves from a long-held burden, and moved to the farm we loved. It seemed like all the pieces were falling into place, allowing us to check off our goals one by one—until that day.
On the morning of September 2, 2023, my husband suffered a massive stroke, landing him in the hospital for 31 days. For 31 days, I made the hour-long trip every day, determined to be a support not just for him, but for others to make a positive impact in any way I could.
During that time, I buried my emotions deep, overwhelmed by what was happening. I just wanted to bring joy to others, even as I struggled with personal pain, I didn’t want anyone to see. But pain has a funny way of catching up with you—it’s like a fast-approaching storm that suddenly brings with it self-doubt and every buried emotion. For me, it was anger, loneliness, and the feeling of being robbed of all we had worked for.
Self-doubt has been my biggest stumbling block. But over the past few years, through studying mindset and investing in coaching, I’ve finally come to accept myself, flaws and all, understanding that we aren’t meant to fit in. We all have a gift, and when you discover your gift, that is when you truly shine.
I’ve learned that to overcome our obstacles, we must forgive and accept—forgive the versions of our past selves and the circumstances beyond our control. Recognize, Accept, Forgive = Change
One of the most incredible parts of this journey has been watching my husband’s tremendous growth in his recovery. He still faces challenges with walking, but his therapists are amazed at how well he has progressed—he’s regained the ability to walk again and is back to most of his daily activities with some limits.
He has often said that if it weren’t for my mindset, dedication to personal growth, and coaching, his recovery might not have been possible. I give Jamie all of the credit for his recovery but it makes me aware that who we are silently impacts people around us.
This affirmation of our collective strength reminds me that impact—the goal I strive for in my life and in the lives of those I meet—is rooted in the willingness to face tough times head-on.
To become the best version of ourselves, life often forces us to grow through situations beyond our control. These are the times that shape us, the moments that force us to pivot and adapt. That day forced me to scratch everything from my list and look at it from a different point of view. Sometimes the point of view was all-out sadness because I no longer had a passion for things. I tried to force it and failed miserably with my last two projects. I eventually realized it’s okay if it isn’t all spelled out for the entire year.
Sometimes, you find your purpose through your pain. We learn who we are by "sitting in a situation" and going through the process of transformation, no matter how uncomfortable it feels. I hadn’t permitted myself to grieve for the past while also being excited for the next chapter, but I’ve come to understand that both can coexist.
One of my favorite coaching lines is, “Make fear your friend.” In other words, real growth doesn’t happen within your comfort zone. My philosophy is to “try everything.”
Last year, I had a list of things I wanted to accomplish. That list has collected dust over the past 12 months. And that’s okay. It’s okay to have a list of goals you were once passionate about, but changing directions is not quitting—it’s growing into the version of yourself that you are meant to be.
Just as a caterpillar transforms into a butterfly, humans have their own periods of transformation. I realized that staying stagnant—avoiding challenges—felt far worse than the discomfort of facing the unknown.
The spark may have dimmed, but it’s still there, ready to ignite into a burning fire once again. If it seems like I am different, I am, but I have no doubt I will continue on the path I am meant to be on along with my goal to make a positive impact on those I meet.
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