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About Louise Gallagher

I believe in wonder. I believe we are all magnificent beings of divine beauty. I believe we can make a difference in this world, through every act, word, thought. I believe we create ripples with everything we do and say and want to inspire everyone to use their ripple to create a better world for everyone. I'm grateful you're here.

Magnetic Emotions: The Necessary Beauty of Sadness

We celebrate happiness, its warmth, its allure, its sunshiney nature. We extoll its virtues, chase its fleeting glow, pursue its richness. But what of sadness, its counterpart? We shun it, dismiss it, rush to banish its presence. When someone speaks of the blues, we scramble to lift their spirits, to paint over grey skies with forced sunshine.

But what if the blues held equal value? What if the lows were as essential as the highs? Physics reminds us: for every action, an equal and opposite reaction. Happiness and sadness, then, are not enemies, but inseparable companions, two sides of the same coin. Like magnetic poles they are forever drawn together, creating the emotional field we inhabit.

A woman I know begins each day with deliberate sorrow, twenty minutes of tears before facing the world. A release, a conscious acknowledgment of the pain that surrounds us. “There is so much pain and suffering in this world. So much over which I have little control. My tears are my antidote to helplessness creating much needed grace and space for joy to flow,” she explains. “I can’t go around it. I must go through it.” And so, to journey through sadness, she builds a bridge of tears to carry her to the other side.

On rainy days like today, when the sky is a heavy grey, the wind a mournful cry, the blues invite us to pause, to feel. To surrender.

In these moments, the blues become a necessary antidote to our fears. They remind us of the cyclical nature of life, the inevitable return of light after darkness. Like the tides, life ebbs and flows. To truly embrace its mystery, we must welcome both the sun and the storm, the joy and the blues. We must stop chasing the blues away and welcome in every facet of the richness of our emotional experience awash in the sea of life.

To help you build a bridge through sadness to happiness, here are three simple practices you can implement today:

  • Embrace Morning Tears: Dedicate a few minutes each morning to acknowledge and release sadness. Start with five minutes of quiet reflection, allowing whatever emotions arise to surface. If tears come, let them flow. If not, simply sit with the feeling, accepting its presence without judgment.
  • Curate an Emotional Soundtrack: Create a playlist that reflects the full spectrum of your emotions. Begin with songs that resonate with sadness or the blues, allowing yourself to feel those emotions fully. Then, transition to songs that uplift and inspire, creating a journey from sorrow to joy.
  • Journal Your Blues: Alongside your gratitude practice, create a space to acknowledge your struggles. Write down what upsets you, what makes you feel helpless, or what triggers your sadness. Giving voice to these feelings through writing can be a powerful step towards processing and moving through them.

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This post originally appeared on my SUBSTACK March 19, 2025

Ego vs Heart: the struggle is real

I catch my ego in its act of rebellious denial of reality. Wonder Woman defying Ares. Hands on hips. Feet firmly planted. Chest out. Chin up. Defiance personified. I breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Love rushes in.

And in that place, calmness embraces me. Nothing seems impossible. Love ripples through every act.

I hope you come and read the full post over on my Substack — Ego vs Love: The Struggle is Real.

Tug-A-War

Caregiving and the Illusion of Control

Dark green cedars stand silent, sentinels against the heaviness of the rain laden sky over Nanaimo harbor. Today, the water is a mirror, promising a smooth voyage to Vancouver. From there, we fly to Calgary, back to the muted tones of early spring still sleeping beneath winter’s blanket. 

I want to pull the blankets over my head and pretend the purpose of our visit is purely fun. The times insist I wake up. 

Reluctantly I accept the reality of this trip. My husband has a swathe of  medical appointments and I am essential to his ease and comfort while travelling. Wife, advocate, Sherpa, and now, caregiver; my role is to ensure any barriers to travel are removed from his path. It’s a role I navigate with a mix of love and reluctance. 

This is a journey far removed from the life we imagined when we said “I do.” Ten years ago. Back then, he was a force of vitality: golf, hockey, hiking, and the boundless joy of the Rockies.

Five years later, COPD, an incurable disease that is slowly stealing his breath, and reshaping our lives, changed everything.

I wrestle with those changes every day.  Like two opposing tug-a-war teams, I am constantly losing ground to the disease’s demands I give up control. I desperately try to dictate the terms of our uncomfortable co-existence yet know, this disease is the true master. In the starkness of its immutability, I am becoming a living contradiction and predestining myself to a tumultuous journey. 

Today’s calm waters offer a stark contrast to the turbulent emotional landscape of caregiving. I resist surrendering to vulnerability, dig my heels in like the proverbial horse being dragged to water when it comes to letting go of the illusion of control. How do you truly inhabit this role when the path is uncertain? How do you find strength when faced with unanswerable questions? 

The waters remain calm. Enigmatic. I stand and gaze out at the sea’s glassy surface. I cannot see into its depths yet still, I search for a deeper understanding, a way to find peace amidst the shifting tides. 

Perhaps, the true strength of a caregiver lies not in control, but in the quiet acceptance of what is and the certitude that all is as it is meant to be. 

Stop. Smell. Savour. (A SWB post)

Beaumont: I’m curious Louise. Why do you so seldom stop to smell the roses, so to speak.

Me: What do you mean? I always do!

Beau: Seriously? HA! Could’a’ve fooled me. Judging by the constant pulling on my leash and your irritating bellowing of ‘HEEL’ I’d say you NEVER stop to smell the roses.

Me: But what about all the photos I take of the waves and whales, sea lions and seals, trees and fauna! Isn’t that me stopping to smell the roses?

Beau: No Louise. That’s you stopping to take a photo without actually savouring the moment.

Me: But what’s the difference?

Beau: Oh grasshopper. You have so much to learn.

Beau hopes you come and read the rest on his blog today – Stop. Smell. Savour.

The Breath of Now

When worry threatens to steal my joy, I find anchors in the present moment. Join me as I share a personal journey through the shifting tides of life and discover simple practices to cultivate calm amidst the storm.

To read the post, and discover 4 anchors to help you live in this beautiful ‘now’, CLICK HERE
#copd #copdawareness #caregiverlife #caregiverstress #dareboldly #livenow #dare

Breathing & Being: A Love Story

Years ago, I had a diving accident in Hawaii. I fought to breathe underwater only to be dragged quickly to the surface by a dive master who realized I was trying to breathe water like a fish.

Remembering the panic of those moments, the feeling of drowning, of not being able to get air helps me understand the feelings C.C. must feel now – except the COPD is a constant companion, not just an ‘accidental encounter.’

I’ve shared about the experience and more on my substack today. I do hope you come and join the conversation. To read the post, please click HERE.

The Unexpected Journey

As I continue to navigate this terrain called ‘being a care-giver to someone with a chronic disease’ I am learning to “Love What Is”.

Care-giving can be a challenging journey filled with grief and loss. But even amidst the difficulties, there is still love, joy, and connection to be found. On my Substack today I share what it means to Love What Is and seven simple steps can help you embrace all of it and find moments of peace and gratitude along the way.

I hope you come join me — The Unexpected Journey.

Stress: The Stealth Beast of Travel

Stress is a sneaky beast. It creeps in like a heat-seeking missile, silently searching for its target.

It wasn’t until CC and I were sitting at the gate, waiting for our flight from YYC to YVR, that I felt its presence. Tears welled up in my eyes, and a heavy feeling settled in my heart. Getting to the airport, returning the rental car, checking in, and navigating security takes twice as long when your travel companion is struggling to breathe, unable to carry anything, and needs to stop for a puff on his inhaler, even in a wheelchair.

But none of that was as stress-inducing as realizing I’d left my backpack at my daughter’s house. Inside were my laptop, phone charger, earbuds, and carry-on cosmetics.

The thought of it at my daughter’s house was the real stressor. Had I taken it inside, or had I left it by the back door, visible and easily accessible from the street? If I hadn’t been pushing CC’s wheelchair, I might have grabbed a cab back to retrieve it. And then I realized I didn’t even have a house key. The uncertainty was agonizing.

Fortunately, my daughter’s neighbor graciously offered to check. The photo he sent of it lying safely inside by the back door was a wave of relief. The urge to cry subsided.

As CC and I navigate this trip, focusing on his comfort, I realize I need to work on staying present, alert, focused, and compassionate. When the neighbor helped, I felt such gratitude. I replied with a big smiley face and a heartfelt “Thank you so much.”

Same as with the Air Canada attendants. I don’t know if they sensed my stress, but their kindness and accommodation were amazing. Im allowing gratitude as my North star.

I also know I need to consciously ground myself in grace. I need to focus on being present and exploring new ways to manage the stress of travel, to navigate it without losing my mind or my sense of direction.

Just like my backpack, forgotten by the back door of my daughter’s house, I need to hold onto my peace of mind. I can’t let stress steal it or make me forget to pack all the things I need for a smooth, stress-free trip, especially when traveling with my beloved who needs me to be there with him in love and grace.

First step is to get uber organized with a list of all the bags we’re bringing with us.

Step two. Pause and breathe. Take a mental inventory of what we’re carrying and checking. do it more than once.

Step three. slow down. I can take a lesson from my husband who has been forced to learn the art of slowing down due to COPD.

Step four. Give myself lots of room for grace. I’m doing my best and my best is good enough.

Winter’s Breath

I hope you come and join me on my Substack page today for a new post about travel, experience, life and memory.

This was yesterday’s post – Breathless in VancouverLove. COPD and a 3 Minute Walk

Post from Sunday, Monday, Feb 10 – The Kitchen. My Hearts True North

On The Move….

Sundays Are Not For The Blues

Here, where I sit on the deck of our friends’ home in Todos Santos, beauty surrounds me like a warm velvety blanket. The soft, ocean air wraps around me like a gentle embrace; there is no where I need be, nothing I need do but be, here, now.

High above, white wisps of clouds, like angels’ wings, streak across the vast blue expanse. In the distance, the surf pounds against the shore, a rolling rumble beckoning me to come watch the sunset. The scent of salt air mingles with the sweet fragrance of the garden in full bloom. I stay here. For now. Sunset is an hour away.

Bird song fills the air with the cooing of doves and the rhythmic hammering of a woodpecker. In the distance, a rooster crows. But how can that be? It’s late afternoon.

Dr. Google has the answer. Yes. They can crow any time of the day, or night.

This morning, standing in line waiting to enter the best coffee shop in town, I chatted with a man whose dog was hit by a car yesterday. “The driver couldn’t avoid him,” he told me…

To read more click HERE.

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On The Move.

Dearest Dare Boldly readers, my heart is calling me to a new space, a quieter corner of the internet where we can connect more deeply. I’m moving my writing to Substack!

For years, I’ve wrestled with the very act of writing. Is it hubris to believe my words matter? Yet, if not to be read, why write at all? This move is about releasing those doubts, about embracing the simple joy of sharing stories and reflections that stir my soul.

Substack feels like coming home. Imagine a cozy room filled with sunlight, the scent of fresh coffee, and the gentle hum of conversation. That’s the feeling I hope to create in my new online home. It’s a place to escape the noise, to find inspiration, and to remember the beauty that surrounds us and our capacity to create joy, harmony, hope and Love in the world around us.

Substack is simple and inviting, like a handwritten note passed between friends. It allows me to share my writing freely, with no barriers between us. (Though, if you’d like to support my work and receive occasional gifts, there’s an option for that too – but truly, your presence is the greatest gift of all.)

Come, gather with me. Let’s share stories, explore dreams, and celebrate the everyday miracles that make life so extraordinary. I can’t wait to welcome you!

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To read the completed Sundays Are Not For The Blues – click HERE.