YouAreEnough

This morning, my brother and I “got up” from sitting Shiva for our mom, who passed away last Sunday evening.

For those who may not know, Shiva is the Jewish mourning period observed in the days immediately following burial, a time when the world comes to you. It is a pause from daily life—set aside for grief, reflection, and being surrounded by family, friends, and community.

In Jewish tradition, Shiva concludes with a short walk outside, which my brother and I did together this morning. It marks that first step back into the world—a world that looks the same on the outside, yet gently reminds you that it’s okay to carry your grief with you as you begin to move forward. Not as the person you were before, but as someone changed by loss.

It in no way signifies closure.

Today, my grief feels especially heavy.

Today marks the beginning of trying to pick up the pieces of my life where they were left several weeks ago—and, in many ways, where my grieving truly begins.

I know there is no right way to heal, yet I don’t know where to go from here. There was so much left unsaid between my mom and me. Our relationship, as many know, was complicated. We didn’t always understand each other, but love always existed between us. She was always proud of me.

My mom loved me in the ways she was able. Over the years, I’ve come to believe she did the best she knew how. I know how deeply she loved me, even when that love didn’t always arrive in the ways I needed—or even recognized at the time. That understanding allows me to hold it more gently now, for her and for myself. It is why it mattered so much to me to honour and eulogize her in a way that reflected that truth at her funeral earlier this week.

Some of that I want to share here:

“Food was always a big part of our home. While sitting by my mom’s bedside recently, I spent a lot of time reflecting on my childhood in a keepsake journal I was given. From my early years in Montreal to my teenage years in Toronto (Thornhill), emotions ran high. When I came to a page asking me to name my favourite holiday and traditions, I didn’t hesitate—though I couldn’t choose just one. Rosh Hashanah and Passover were equally my favourites, hands down.

Those holidays meant family coming together—grandparents traveling from Ottawa (or Florida) and Montreal (once we moved to Toronto), along with friends who became family. My mom cooked incredible meals. Her brisket was amazing! And if someone didn’t have a place to go for the holidays, my mom always made sure there was room at our table. Those gatherings will always hold a special place in my heart because of her.

She loved hosting, celebrating, and bringing people together. That love shined through when she threw me an unforgettable Sweet 16 party that people still talk about to this day.

But the greatest joy of my mom’s life was becoming a Bubbie to her five grandchildren—my children Jacob, Hannah, and Rachel, and my nephews Noah and Josh. In that role, her love felt lighter and more open. She showed up with warmth, excitement, and plenty of Gymboree classes. It’s how many people will remember her, and it’s something I will always hold close.”

I choose to believe that my mom is finally at peace. I find comfort knowing she is free from all her pain. Whatever weighed on her has been set down, and the love she carried—imperfect, sincere, and real all remain.

I am deeply grateful that I was able to spend her final ten days sitting quietly by her bedside. It brings me great comfort to know that I was there with her.

I am also profoundly grateful for the incredible friends, family, and community who showed up for us this week in countless ways—through presence, meals, messages, stories, and quiet support. You honoured my mom’s memory and carried my brother, Harris and me through moments we could not have held on our own. Your love has been a source of strength during this incredibly difficult time, and it will stay with us far beyond this week.

Thank you for holding space for us as we learn how to carry this.

Rest easy, Mom.

I love you. ❤️

Shabbat Shalom

#mom #grief #grateful #strength #mentalhealth #loss #thankyou #memories #itsoktonotbeok #support #tradition #shiva #iloveyoutothemoonandback #foreverandaday

My thoughts are scattered.

I’m hoping this new journal can be a place to untangle them.

I didn’t know exhaustion could be this layered.

My body, my mind, my heart all carrying it.

Heavy. Unrelenting.

#thoughts #scattered #exhaustion #journaling #mentalhealth #physicalhealth #heavy #unrelenting #body #mind

As the clock struck midnight last night, I felt a wave of emotion I didn’t expect. Relief came first. 2025 was finally over. It had been a difficult year, one that asked more of me than I often felt I had to give. And yet, sitting on my couch with friends nearby, I found myself revisiting a gentle highlight reel in my heart, remembering that even the hardest years carry moments of tenderness.

There were bright spots worth holding onto. Rachel graduating from university and earning her degree in Interior Design. Rich and I marking our 30th wedding anniversary with a trip to Tobermory and the Bruce Peninsula, surrounded by the kind of beauty that slows you down and reminds you to breathe. I quit my toxic job that had left me depleted and s*icidal and then stepped into a new role that has brought meaning and purpose back into my days.

These moments matter. They are proof that growth and joy can exist alongside struggle.

Still, as the year turned, the heaviest emotion wasn’t about what had passed, it was about what lies ahead. There is an awful ache in knowing that every hour in the coming days are among the most difficult I have faced.

As I hold this special key charm close, a charm my mom has worn around her neck for years—I feel its weight differently now. In this moment, it feels less like a piece of jewelry and more like a prayer. Holding it, I feel a quiet, unrushed kind of faith. The key carries what remains sacred and unresolved: grief, memory, and love that cannot be neatly contained. The key feels spiritual, not something meant to force doors open, but something meant to be trusted. A reminder that time is not mine to control, and that some doors open only when the soul is ready, in ways beyond what I can see or ever understand.

There’s a myth that a new year resets us. But grief doesn’t follow a calendar. Sometimes a new year simply finds us still standing in the middle of something tender and unfinished.

As I step into 2026, I do so gently, with honesty and softness. For now, I am choosing presence over certainty, and trust over control, showing up one hour, and one day, at a time.

#trust #faith #spirituality #grief #presence #uncertainty #newyearsday #mentalhealth #onedayatatime #holdingon #brightspots #softness #honesty #youareenough #itsoktonotbeok #emotions

Lately, just getting through the day feels like an accomplishment in itself.

There are moments in life when simply being here requires intention.

Some days are heavier than others, and deeply exhausting. Some days ask more of us than we feel we have to give. I know this because I live it. Living with depression, finding positivity in my day doesn’t come easily, and forcing it has never helped. It usually just makes me feel more alone with what hurts.

As 2026 approaches, I’ve made a quiet commitment to myself to write down one good thing that happens in my day, every day for the year ahead.

This isn’t about pretending things are okay. It’s about survival. About staying present in days shaped by anxiety, fear, uncertainty, and feelings of hopelessness.

I believe two things can be true at the same time: a day can be incredibly hard, and something good can still exist within it.

The good thing might be small. Almost unremarkable; but still good.

A laugh with a friend. A familiar song. A message that lands at the right moment. A few minutes of calm. A warm embrace. A dinner with family. A snuggle with my dog. A hike through nature. A heartfelt compliment. A bubble bath. A cozy weighted blanket. A sip of Diet Coke.

These moments don’t cancel out the pain. They don’t fix what’s broken. But writing down one good thing is an act of noticing. Of teaching my nervous system to pause instead of brace. Of letting my attention rest somewhere gentler, even if only briefly.

Some days, the good thing will be easy to find. Other days, it may take more effort. And there will be days when the good thing is simply that the day ended and I made it through.

That counts too.

I don’t expect this practice to change who I am or erase what I carry. The goal isn’t about transformation. It’s about compassion. It’s about giving myself permission to acknowledge the weight I hold without letting it be my only story.

Not every day is good.

But finding good in every day is part of my healing journey.

And for right now, that feels like enough.

Wishing everyone a happy, healthy New Year, one that includes noticing the good, wherever it quietly appears.

#findingthegoodineveryday #positivevibes #newyear #healingjourney #mentalhealth #compassion #wellbeing #youareenough #intention

Self-care today looks like reflection and renewal.

A few quiet moments.

A pen.

A page.

And meeting myself exactly where I am.

#selfcare #reflection #renewal #quietmoments #mentalhealth #breathe

I am present.

I feel my breath moving in and out.

Slowly.

Deeply.

I let myself simply be.

I am gentle with myself.

Alone in the moment.

I quietly stay, even when it’s hard.

Mindful of what is coming.

I let each moment unfold without resistance.

Trusting that I can handle it.

I meet it with patience and kindness.

I rest in the knowing that I will be okay.

#stayingpresent #mindful #grief #aloneinthemoment #breathe #mentalhealth #patience #kindness #gently #simplybeing #youareenough

There is something truly healing about being with your people when the world feels heavy. When you’re tired. When grief, stress, and uncertainty take up more space than usual. In those moments, comfort doesn’t come from fixing anything — it comes from feeling safe and supported.

We often forget how much these small moments matter. An afternoon that stretches into evening. A meal shared together. Not having to be “on” or explain yourself. These aren’t extras — they’re how we recharge.

We may not celebrate Christmas in the traditional sense, but this time of year still gives us a reason to slow down and be together in our own way. To make space for what we actually need.

Today called for comfort and grounding. A traditional Jewish Christmas dinner (aka Chinese food). A double feature. Plenty of laughter. And time with the people who know your heart.

Family. Connection. Room to breathe.
For us, this is a perfect Christmas Day 🧡

#christmasday #family #myheart #myreasonswhy #traditions #mentalhealth #grief #connection #together

Can someone wake me when this year is finally over?

2025 has been, in a word, exhausting—long, emotionally demanding, and relentless. The kind of year that settles into your body and lingers in your thoughts. The past month has been especially heavy, and the most difficult one yet.

Today at 1 p.m., I set my out-of-office notification for the rest of the year. What should have been a simple task felt like an act of self-preservation—a quiet admission that I need to stop pushing through and allow myself some grace.

There has been a lot of grief woven into this year. Not always spoken aloud, but always present. It has shaped how I move through my days, testing my limits in ways I didn’t expect.

As this year comes to a close, it seems the next is likely to arrive with little relief. But I know this: my mental health matters. Caring for myself—emotionally, physically, spiritually—matters, even in uncertainty.

So for now, I will use this time to be with loved ones and give myself permission to breathe, to pause, to be still, when opportunity allows.

Hope, for me right now, isn’t loud. It’s quiet and gentle. It looks like choosing compassion for myself, one small pause at a time.

Wishing everyone who is celebrating a very Merry Christmas—and to all, a reminder to rest, take care, and be present during this season.

#pause #rest #selfcare #mentalhealth #physicalhealth #spiritual #compassion #outofoffice #breathe #uncertainty #grief #anxiety

Anticipatory grief is the grief you feel before a loss actually happens. It carries its own kind of heartache. And something we don’t talk about enough.

It’s the quiet shadow that arrives long before anything ends.

It follows you through your day, sitting beside ordinary tasks, weaving sadness, anxiety, fear, and guilt through your chest,
making it hard to focus – or even breathe.

It asks you to carry tomorrow while still living today, reshaping small moments and settling into the spaces between your thoughts.

It’s a weight that moves with you, silent but persistent, lingering in the quiet spaces of the days ahead. A sorrow that stretches across time.

#anticipatorygrief #sadness #anxiety #fear #guilt #silent #breathe #mentalhealth #today #tomorrow

Most mornings, getting out the door for me takes more strength than people may ever realize. But even through the exhaustion and anxiety, somehow, I show up.

Since starting my new job this past spring, my morning routine usually includes a quick stop at the Tim Hortons near my office. At first, I dreaded that it didn’t have a drive-thru—going inside felt like one more thing for me to manage. But within a couple of weeks, that feeling shifted. A young man behind the counter began noticing me in line, and now, before I even reach the register, he’s got my order ready, whether he’s serving me or not.

It’s a small gesture, yet it’s become such a meaningful part of my day. He shows up with a smile and genuine heart, the kind of presence that makes you feel seen. Honestly, I feel his absence on the days he isn’t there.

Today, I gave him a small token of appreciation to say thank you. It felt important to acknowledge someone who clearly takes pride in his work and in making others feel valued. He was very humbled by my gesture when I told him what he does for me and for so many others—truly matters.

This was more than a thank you. It was a reminder of how important it is to notice one another. We never really know what someone else is carrying, and a moment of kindness might be what helps them get through their day.

I’m deeply grateful for the people who hold space for others without even realizing it. In a world where so many of us are rushing, overwhelmed, and carrying invisible weight, those small moments of recognition matter more than we know. Kindness doesn’t have to be grand to be powerful.

Throughout this holiday season and beyond, may we all remember the impact we can have when we lead with warmth, intention, and humanity—even in the smallest moments.

#kindnessisfree #kindnessmatters #youmatter #appreciation #gratitude #moments #thankyou #smallgestures #holdingspace #mentalhealth #anxiety #depression #youareenough @timhortons