Tag Archives: Love

Finding Self-Love, Forgiveness and Healing After a Toxic Relationship

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In my MasterClass – RADIANT BOLD AGING, I share what I’ve learned about the power of forgiveness and self-compassion and love in having triumped over an abuse relationship that set me free to love myself completely.

Through a very toxic relationship, I learned that self-hatred is the enemy of freedom, self- denial the path to peridition.

When I escaped that relationship, my priority was to heal myself so I could repair and reclaim the bonds I’d broken with my daughters. Over the almost five years of that relationship, I’d caused them immense pain and betrayed their trust.

In my MC, I share how, while it was easy to want to blame my ex-partner for everything, I knew I was accountable for my actions. The path to regaining their trust and forgiveness started with forgiving myself so that I could be 100% accountable for the pain I’d caused them.

This was a difficult step because I wanted it to be ‘all his fault’. Fact is, to heal myself and my relationship with my daughters, I had to step into my own agency. So, I made a conscious decision to simplify the process of forgiving myself. I repeatedly told myself, “I forgive myself,” without any qualifications or dwelling on past mistakes. It was liberating to let go of the guilt and shame.

Similarly, when thoughts of abuser resurfaced (which in those first heady days of freedom they frequently did), I mentally put up stop signs and redirected my focus to healing and creating a positive future.

The journey to healing wasn’t linear. There were setbacks and moments of doubt, but with each step, I fell deeper and deeper in love with myself AND rekindled the love and connection with my daughters.

Healing is ongoing, and the past still holds some influence in our unconscious, even when we think ‘we’re done with that’. Triggers can emerge enexpectedly. The power is in choosing to step into ‘the mess’ to heal the broken places triggers reveal. I’ve learned to navigate those spaces with forgiveness and self-compassion.

That relationship, though awful for my family and the friends who loved me, strengthened me, my daughters, and all my relationships. My daughter once shared that she didn’t regret it, as it ultimately made us stronger. I agree.

A few years ago, my eldest daughter and I shared our story of healing at a conference. It was challenging but also incredibly rewarding. It was a reminder that I can’t change the past, but I can choose to ‘let it be’ and shape a positive future through forgiveness and love.

This journey taught me to stop seeking fairy tales and to believe in myself. I learned that dreams can come true when we embrace truth, dignity, kindness, and forgiveness.

Most importantly, I discovered the importance of letting go of self-doubt and falling in love with ourselves and our lives.

If you’re interested in falling in love with yourself, in igniting your passion for living free of the past, and instilling more fun and joy into your everyday, join me at RADIANT BOLD AGING, June 7, 10-11:30 am (MT). It’s free and online — you can come as you are — in your pajamas or ball gown!

I hope to see you there.

Embracing the Flow: Lessons from TEDxCalgary

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When you embrace the flow,

the energy of life

comes alive within you.

Last Friday, I had the joy of attending TEDxCalgary‘s event FLOW.

As an artist and writer, I am continually immersed in creative energy—whether I call it the muse, collective consciousness, my creative essence or simple, The Flow.

FLOW is dynamic energy. Quantum physics teaches us that energy exists as either particles or waves. In our daily lives, we mostly function as particles, but in our creative endeavors, we ride the waves.

Creativity is like a river, constantly flowing, shifting, and creating. Every day, I sit at my desk and gaze out at the Bow River, its ever-changing flow reminding me that all life is energy, and energy never stagnates, just as creativity is part of the energy of each and every human being on this planet.

So, where are you in the flow? Remember, you are not the river; you are part of the flow. Are you stuck in a belief that your current state, no matter how uncomfortable or sublime, is the only place you can be? Or can you embrace a belief that celebrates your creative nature which is an ever-moving, ever-changing state of being human in the flow of life?

Be like the river and flow free.

Attending TEDxCalgary’s event reminded me of a powerful moment I shared in my TEDxCalgary talk, Lessons in Love. In it, I retell the story of becoming so lost on the road of life that one day I stood at the side of a river and wished I could unhook gravity’s hold on my body, allowing myself to fall into the river and be washed out to sea. I was not that powerful, thankfully. But I was powerful enough to change my state of being and reclaim my love of life so that I could unhook myself from the trauma that brought me to that moment and flow with grace and ease through all life’s changing moments.

I invite you to watch my talk, where I delve deeper into this experience and the lessons it taught me about love, resilience, and the power of embracing life’s flow.

Shared Dreams: A Mother’s Love

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When I became a mother, I was terrified. How could I be entrusted with such precious beings? How would I ever live up to their right to live and grow into their dreams? I had no idea how I would manage, or even if I could. But I took a breath, and every day I continued to breathe through the fear, the pain, the anxiety, and the absolute conviction that I was failing, again and again. Yet, in those breaths, I also found the joy, the love, the absolute miracle of motherhood.

There are moments where I surpassed even my own fears, where I rose to the challenges, and there were moments where I fell, hard. There were moments to celebrate and moments I regret. Yet, even in that regret, I know that being a mother to my daughters is the greatest challenge and joy I have ever faced. I do not regret one single moment of this journey.

Too often, while working at a family homeless shelter, I witnessed one of the most heartrending scenes—a mother arriving with her one-day-old infant in her arms. Despite the often overwhelming struggles with addiction and poverty, the mothers’ desires mirrored my own: to want only the best for their child. She, too, carried dreams for her newborn, a poignant reminder that the hopes we hold for our children bind us together, transcending circumstances.

Becoming a mother was transformative for me. Thanks to my two amazing daughters, I was gifted the opportunity to heal, grow, and evolve into the woman I am today. Being a mother is the daily choice to accept my fallibilities, to learn to love myself—beauty and beast, warts and wounds, wisdom—and to forgive myself and begin again to learn, grow, change, and expand, time and time again.

Every child, including you and me, has come into this world through a mother’s womb. This Mother’s Day, let us honour all the wombs that gave birth, and all the arms that held, soothed, and loved a child, whether from your womb or another’s. May today remind you of how precious, beautiful, loved, and loving you are. You are magnificent.

Thank you to my mother and her mother’s mothers for this gift of life. Thank you to my daughters for the gift of seeing myself through Love’s eyes.

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Processed with VSCO with a6 preset

Why be a Princess when you can be Queen?

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As young girls, we reveled in fairytales, enchanted by princesses who slept for a century, spun straw into gold, or toiled under the harsh commands of wicked stepmothers. We admired their beauty and grace, yet seldom questioned their lack of autonomy. These princesses, perennially waiting for rescue, mirrored a narrative that offered no guide on harnessing our intrinsic strengths. Just like the incomplete princess awaiting Prince Charming, the roadmap for growing older and claiming our queenly powers was conspicuously absent, leaving us to navigate for ourselves the road through dormant potential to becoming women brimming with passion, wisdom, and joy.

As women over 50, we’ve traversed the dense forests of life’s challenges and triumphs. We’ve built careers, nurtured families, and endured the relentless grind of daily responsibilities. Through it all, we’ve cultivated a formidable power—the power of experience and wisdom.

In my transformative masterclass, ‘Radiant Bold Aging,’ I delve into the incredible strength, courage, and resilience we possess. Despite hardships and losses, we’ve persevered, gathering wisdom and courage with each challenge faced.

Now, at this pivotal age of embracing our ‘Queen Within,’ it is precisely this courage, strength, resilience, and wisdom that we must lean into enrich and illuminate our path forward.

For decades, we prioritized the needs of others, often sidelining our own. But what if we shifted this balance? What if we placed our desires, our ambitions, our wellness at the forefront? Imagine the boundless possibilities when we focus on cultivating our inner sovereignty.

This journey isn’t about discarding our past; it’s about building upon the vast reservoir of skills and insights we’ve accumulated. It’s about recognizing that we have always been the heroines of our own stories—not waiting to be saved, but actively saving ourselves and, in doing so, setting a powerful example for those around us. And through this process, we chart the very map that was absent when we were children, captivated by the tales of princesses in a land far, far away. A map that will guide women, not yet at the threshold of their Queendom, navigate the road ahead.

Join me at RADIANT BOLD AGING as we explore what it means to truly rule our own lives with soul-driven grace, resilience, wisdom, and power.

To register for RADIANT BOLD AGING, tomorrow at 4pm MT click the photo below.

To link readers to my registration page for Radiant Bold Aging

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“Joy transcends age; it’s not confined to youth. It’s a universal treasure that spans all ages, reminding us that to experience joy we must embrace the journey of life with love, laughter, gratitude and compassion every day.” Louise Gallagher

As I sit before my computer navigating various sites to launch thep of unveiling another chapter of the Radiant Bold Aging Masterclass, and transforming my two-month ReEnvision Your Journey program into a six-month quest to champion women in crafting the life of their dreams, age notwithstanding, my journal pages have blossomed with musings on JOY.

What essence it holds, whence it springs. What, if anything, fills its void when it gently slips away? In its absence, where do I seek refuge? And why, oh why, does joy hold such paramount importance?

These existential ponderings, to me, are not just intriguing—they are essential quests for understanding.

Today, merrily working in my studio, with the melody of birdsong heralding spring to the barren branches of the trees that line the riverbank, and sunlight dancing on the snow-blanketed earth of our backyard, I found myself cradled in the sheer joy of the present.

Joy—like an ocean wave—envelops me, washing away the remnants of turmoil. It saturates my being when I cease to engage with joy’s thieves: resentment, regret, anger, sorrow, and the mundane grievances against the world’s bad drivers and the monotony of customer service scripts. Ah, those familiar foes.

I’ve come to realize that irrespective of age, emotions crash upon the shores of my consciousness, uninvited. To truly know Joy, I must allow these feelings to be swallowed by the temporal tides, and in their stead, embrace love, self-compassion, mindfulness, and the endless possibilities each moment holds.

In such moments, my heart feels lighter, my thoughts as clear as the rainbow stretching across the sky after a storm, and I am embraced once more with Joy.

Such a profound, exquisite blessing.

_______________________________________________

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All’s Quiet on a Midday Flight: A journey through Memory and Legacy

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I’ve always found a unique serenity in choosing midday flights. Unlike the bustling mornings or the weary evenings, airports during these hours whisper tales of transient calm. This time, the terminal, usually a stage for the hurried footsteps of countless travelers, offered a rare pause in its daily rhythm. Such moments of tranquility amidst the chaos of departures and arrivals are fleeting, yet profoundly appreciated.

However, adhering to the conventional wisdom of arriving two hours early for a domestic flight often seems excessive. Today, just ten minutes sufficed to navigate through check-in and security, even with a suitcase that needed checking-in. The efficiency was a welcome surprise, especially considering my departure from the newly renovated B gates. This change significantly shortened my walk, a small yet significant mercy for someone who, out of convenience or necessity, checks their luggage.

The renovation, aside from logistical benefits, hinted at a broader theme of travel: the blend of wonder and ordeal. For many, including myself, the journey to the gate is the least appealing part of travel. Yet, it’s an integral step in the dance of departure and arrival, a necessary prelude to the adventures that await.

On this occasion, my luggage carried more than just essentials. It bore fragments of my sister Jackie’s life—items destined for my daughter, granddaughter, and sister Anne. In sifting through Jackie’s belongings, we distributed much to charity, but some pieces were too imbued with memories, too rich in sentimental value, to part with. They represented not just personal history, but a tangible connection to Jackie, a way to keep her spirit alive in our daily lives.

I sit and watch passengers walk past the cafe bar where I type and wonder about my own possessions: the artifacts of travels and life events that compose the mosaic of my existence. From the shawl I picked up in Ireland to the earrings from Barbados, each item carries a story, a piece of a place, or a moment shared with loved ones. These are not mere objects but the threads from which the tapestry of my life is woven, each adding colour, texture, and depth to my personal narrative.

I ponder the future of these threads, the fate of these tangible memories when I am no longer here to hold them. Will they serve as cherished reminders for my loved ones, or will they become burdensome relics of a past no longer connected to the present?

In my carry-on, two bags of jewellery—one for Anne and one for my daughter in Vancouver—serve as a testament to these reflections. They are heavy, laden not just with their physical weight but with the emotional gravity of the memories they represent.

As I navigate through the quietude of the airport, I am reminded that our journeys, both literal and metaphorical, are interwoven with the lives of those we touch. What we carry, what we leave behind, and the memories we cherish are part of a larger narrative. It’s a narrative that transcends the individual, connecting us through the shared experience of love, loss, and the enduring question of legacy.

Who will treasure the memory of us? It’s a poignant question that echoes in the silent corridors of my midday flight, a reminder of the indelible marks we leave on the hearts and lives of those we love.

The Day She Was Born

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Thirty-six years ago today, the world was a flurry of icy chills and Olympic anticipation. Calgary, caught in the grips of a Polar Vortex, was buzzing with excitement for the upcoming Winter Olympics. In the midst of this, Alberta nurses were striking, hospitals were navigating through tumult, performing only emergency procedures.

Liseanne, my vibrant youngest daughter, chose this intense backdrop for her grand entrance, arriving two weeks before her due date of February 13 – the very day the Olympics were set to begin. Unlike her sister, whose 3 week-late arrival made me wonder if she’d ever venture out, Liseanne was eager, ready to embrace the world with the fervour of the star athletes descending upon our city.

Her early arrival was my first lesson in the unpredictable joy of motherhood. With my eldest, I was unprepared for the tidal wave of protective love that overwhelmed me. With Liseanne, it was the fierce, unconditional love that made me wish to keep her safe inside me forever. Yet, amidst the nurses’ strike and my impending C-section, Liseanne’s determination won-out. It always does.

I remember that day vividly. My water broke, but I remained silent, helping her father put the final touches on her nursery. It was only after we finished that I called my doctor. “Can I wait until the strike is over?”, I asked him when he said he’d meet me at the hospital – right away. His response mirrored the impending life lesson Liseanne herself would repeatedly teach me: Life doesn’t wait for you to get ready to live. There’s no better time than now.

Liseanne’s entrance into this world was a testament to her indomitable spirit, a trait she has carried throughout her life. She’s always lived with an urgency, a ‘do it now’ philosophy, shining brightly and touching every life in her orbit with her radiance.

Liseanne possesses many superpowers, but her most remarkable is her warrior spirit. She has an innate ability to stand for justice, to uplift the downtrodden, and to infuse joy in every heart she touches. During her school years, it wasn’t unusual for me to hear from her teachers about how she ‘talked back’ – but it was always in defense of a classmate, a stand against injustice or unfair treatment.

Being Liseanne’s mother has been an extraordinary journey. Both she and her sister have taught me immeasurable lessons about love, courage, and resilience. They have been my greatest teachers, showing me the depths and heights of what it means to love and be loved.

As Liseanne celebrates her 36th birthday today, I am filled with immense pride and gratitude. Her life is a beautiful tapestry of strength, compassion, and unwavering commitment to making the world a better place – a world she’s travelled extensively due to her goal of visiting 30 countries by her 30th birthday. Since achieving it, she continues to find new places to go, new adventures to experience, and new goals to accomplish.

It is her way

Happy Birthday, my darling daughter. You continue to be a beacon of light in our lives, guiding us with your wisdom, warmth and humour. The privilege of being your mother is one of my life’s greatest blessings, and I look forward to the continued journey of learning and growing alongside you.

Photos by @ChristieeJames – Thank you CJ for ensuring we carry on Jackie’s tradition of always taking photos of family events and special gatherings!

Happy Birthday
Birthday Dinner

We Are All Woven in Time

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Morning light dances
River flows endlessly by
Love’s presence endures

Light dances upon the water’s surface, where the river, bordered by ice, flows freely. When my gaze fixates on this dance of light, the river appears deceptively still, a mirage of tranquility amidst its constant motion.

This illusion mirrors life itself. Often, it feels as if time has stalled, yet subtle markers – a passing birthday, a fading memory – remind me that life is in perpetual motion. Nothing remains static. Life, like energy, is ever-moving, evolving, and transforming.

Around this time, four years ago, our family gravitated towards a tender reality – the dimming light in our mother’s life at 97 years old. She sensed her earthly journey nearing its close. She spoke of loved ones lost and a divine presence that had been her constant companion, waiting in the wings to reunite her with them.

In her last days, each breath she took seemed to suspend time. It was as though her breaths could continue indefinitely, even as her heart quieted. After 97 years of what she often described as a life of loss and worry, my wish wasn’t for her to stay but for her to see the legacy of love she wove through life’s tapestry of hardships, sorrows, and joys.

Throughout my life, my mother’s vision was often clouded by darkness, her joy overshadowed by a lifelong battle with depression. I recall, as a child, yearning to craft a bridge of words that could lead us from her tormented moments – like those standing in the kitchen, when she held a knife to her breast and cried threats of self-harm – into a realm of unceasing light.

It took years to understand that I would never be powerful enough to build that imaginary bridge for my mother. And longer still to realize that despite my resilience, darkness touched me too. It was a therapist’s simple question many years ago about my own quiet depression that cracked open my self-awareness, challenging my perceptions and inviting introspection.

Since then, much has shifted. The icy hold on my constant smile has thawed, giving way to authentic emotions. Embracing both joy and sorrow, light and darkness, I’ve grown to love all parts of myself – and my mother. Understanding that to appreciate the light fully, we must also honour the darkness by falling in love with all of it — darkness, light and the shadows between.

Watching the light dance on the river this morning, I saw life’s constant flow – the passage of time, the interplay of light and darkness. And through it all, Love, in all its manifestations, moving unbounded, weaving through every moment, cradling me in the eternal circle of Life woven in time through my mother’s loving hands.

Poppycock. Memories. And the power of kindness

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Adorned in twinkling lights and festive charm, this angel on our tree is a heartfelt symbol uniting our family with the spirit of ‘Jackie,’ a tender reminder of love and memories shared. I purchased identical angels for my sister, Anne, as well as both my daughters to place on their trees.

This morning, as the sun rose on the day after an evening spent engaging in a cherished activity — making poppycock, I found myself enveloped in a blend of tradition and reflection. For several years now, my friend Jane, her daughter, my youngest daughter, and I have gathered to cook-up batches of this sugary popcorn delight. It’s an evening brimming with laughter, dance, off-key singing and the rhythmic sounds of popcorn popping and sugar melting and cautions to “Be careful. Don’t burn yourself,” as Jane pours the hot sugary mess into the giant bowl of popcorn I’m stirring as her daughtger C.J. turns it to ensure the popcorn is adequately covered in gooey sweetness.

In the corner of our family area, twinkling and sparkling with tiny white lights, our Christmas tree stood adorned in spearkling balls and glitter.

It almost didn’t.

When I awoke yesterday, a realization dawned on me. Among the myriad tasks of the festive season, one significant ritual remained undone – decorating our Christmas tree. This tradition, typically shared with our adult children, had been unexpectedly set aside on Friday night when we’d gathered for dinner and decorating the tree. Exhaustion and emotional drain from the past two weeks, along with the anticipation of my sister Jackie’s celebration of life the next day, had drained me of energy. In the midst of all that had happened and needed doing since she’d taken her last breath on November 24th, the act of decorating the tree, which for me symbolizes hope and rebirth during this season of light, felt discordant with my grieving heart.

However, something shifted within me yesterday morning. I knew the tree had to go up. Even if all I did was plug it in, it had to grace our poppycock festivities.

And then, as I assembled the tree and watched it come to life with its twinkling lights, a gentle whisper from within urged, “It’s time.”

Not just time to decorate the tree, but time… to allow grief to flow, to let sorrow make way for love, and to embrace the season’s promise without the yearning to turn back time to when Jackie’s calm, caring presence filled our lives.

This morning, amidst the remnants of our poppycock-making extravaganza, memories of Christmases past with Jackie and her husband Jim wafted through my mind. Their early arrivals (if dinner was for six I could count on them arriving for 5:30), Jackie’s famous mashed potatoes (always enough for 30, no matter the guest count), and her take-charge attitude in the kitchen are memories etched in my heart. The fact is, I shall miss grumbling under my breath about her bossing me around in my own kitchen and her countless reminders to check the mashed potatoes to make sure they’re not burning!

This Christmas, Jackie’s physical absence will be palpable. Jim will be spending his holiday with one of his daughters. Our gathering will be smaller, with 11 of us around the table. Yet, I know Jackie’s spirit – her generosity, kindness, and the love that never quite grasped my youngest daughter’s humour – will linger amongst us, filling the space where she once sat.

This Christmas will be unlike any other, a bittersweet symphony of memories and presence. It will be a celebration in honour of my sister as we build new memories. Memories that will be embued with Jackie’s reminders of the enduring power of kindness to touch hearts and illuminate the true essence of this season of light, hope, joy, and love.