Have you ever caught yourself saying, “What did I do in a past life to deserve this?” No? Just me? I often muttered this when I was being tested through rough times.
I look back at the version of myself that I was in my 20’s, 30’s, 40’s and I’m proud of who I’ve become through each decade. Every version of ourselves that we outgrow asks us to leave a part of our current life behind. If you don’t believe that reinvention, healing, and becoming our truest selves comes with a price trust me, there is always a price. Someone is always going to criticize you or make fun of you for not being who they remember. Screw honoring your intuitions and feelings, right? Screw them. If it feels right to you, do it anyway!
We are smack dab in the middle of winter here in the Maritimes. That means any morning you can wake up to a freshly fallen blanket of snow and while I’m not a winter person per se, I’ve been leaning into it more as I become more present in my everyday life. Perhaps that’s just a sign of getting older. And as corny as this may sound, I’m noticing how fresh snow erases every footprint from yesterday — the hurried steps, the wandering ones, the places where someone slipped or stood too long.
It doesn’t undo what happened, but it softens the evidence of it.
What that reminds me of is that time moves forward whether I’m ready or not, and each day quietly offers a clean place to stand.
For so long, I carried yesterday into today. Conversations I wish I’d handled differently. Reactions I replay. Moments I would judge myself for. Sometimes my body tenses as if they’re still happening, even when they’re already over.
Mindfulness, I’m learning, isn’t about pretending the past didn’t happen. It’s about me deciding where I place my next step and learning from the old tracks without being bound to follow them again.
Today, the ground is clean — not because yesterday didn’t matter, but because today deserves its own footsteps.
Becoming a more honest version of myself has meant letting go of the people and spaces I once accommodated. Gatherings where I didn’t belong. Relationships that made me question my worth. I value my peace, which has meant stepping away from chaos I once tried to fix. It also means trusting my own energy. Not every invitation deserves a yes, and sensing when something doesn’t feel right isn’t disrespect — it’s discernment. I used to think that every couple my husband suggested we hang out with automatically needed my company, and that’s not the case. If you don’t click, why force a relationship?
Learning to say “no” meant giving up the easy acceptance that came from always being the “yes” girl. I also learned that other people are still free to choose differently, and that doesn’t require me to abandon myself.
Becoming the mother of adult children has also taught me that the identity that once made me feel needed every moment is okay to let go. They know I’m here if they need me.
Growth looks beautiful from the outside, but inside it can feel like loss. And that’s okay.
If you’re working hard to shed your old life for a better one that carries more truth, alignment with who you want to be, more self-respect and peace, then remember, it will always be worth the one you’re shedding.
So, if you’re in that in-between place — grieving the life you’ve outgrown while reaching for the one calling your name — remember to look around. Every day is a fresh slate. No matter the season, we’re always coming back around.
We all have permission to start again.
The Other Side of Nice 