It was like being hit by lightning! As I stared at those words, the light bulb turned on in my head and the puzzle pieces started falling into place. This made sense! I could become anything I wanted because the way already existed. What I needed to tell myself was that if I could see it in my mind, I was already on my way to getting it. What were those words?

EVERYTHING THAT WILL EVER BE ALREADY EXISTS

Have you ever heard of eternalism or “block universe” theory? I was well into my 50s when I first read about it. It is the concept concerning the nature of time. According to this theory, past, present, and future events all coexist simultaneously.

Jonas Salk didn’t just grab the vaccine to prevent polio out of thin air. It already existed; he just hadn’t figured it out yet. It was right there in his ingredients, in his experiments, his determination and persistence, and finally, in his mind.

Flip That Switch!

Nothing will create the life you say you want in your second half until you clarify in your own mind exactly what success and fulfillment looks like. Once done, submit your order to the Universe and prepare to receive it. Your request already exists and is being prepared for delivery.

​Wonderous things that will get your heart pumping are within your grasp if you believe you deserve them. But you can’t just wait around for them – prepare your life for delivery. Don’t let your brain run down; wind it up again. Flip that switch!

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than the ones you did. Sail away from the safe harbor. Dream. Discover.” – Mark Twain

Keep Believing and Work for It

We spend so much time worrying that we might be worse off than we are now if we take a chance. So what do we do? Nothing! The solution to happiness and purpose is not an easy one. It is a leap of courage and faith; believing in something you cannot see and having the patience to keep believing while the Universe works its magic.

If you know what the goal is, the how will appear. The path is already there. Seek it out and enjoy the process of exploring, researching and engaging with people who share your passion. You will discover that studying unfamiliar subjects and mastering new skills is a source of genuine pleasure, motivation, and, dare I say, fun! In other words, don’t just live the length of your life but the width of it as well.

“You can’t turn back the clock. But you can wind it up again.” – Bonnie Prudden

Expand Your World

As you grow, you have to expand your world to include all the people, resources, challenges, and information you can stuff into your life. Define what you want! Believe you deserve it! Don’t just say, “I want what she has” or “I want to be rich.” No, you have to sit down and get very clear. What do you want? How will it make your life better? Write it down.

If you have made your desires clear in your mind, the Universe will immediately get to work putting together your order. Be patient. It can take time – sometimes a lot of time. You will get it when the Universe thinks you are ready to receive and appreciate it.
Just like a plant, we all require things to grow: water, fertilizer, sunlight, fresh air, and maybe some love. The plant is born with the knowledge that the way to thrive already exists.

Just How Do You Plant A Life?

• Take action – plant the seed in a quality environment.
• Have patience – it will grow in its own time.
• Be resilient – if you forget to water it, do so now and keep the faith you didn’t kill it.
• Be consistent – water, fertilize, provide sunlight, speak lovingly, and repeat.
• Be persistent – keep watching your plant. If it refuses to grow, make a few adjustments and start another seed. Keep doing it until that little bugger sprouts!

Above all, never quit. You may be on the cusp of bursting into blossom!

What to learn more? Read my debut book A Life Postponed – so you too can discover joy and purpose in mid-life and beyond!

​(originally published for Sixty and Me)

​I should have taken Robert Frost’s advice and followed The Road Not Taken. Instead, I took the path well-trod – what I thought was a safe and predictable route.

But nothing is ever really safe, is it? What’s that saying, “Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.” Take me for example. While following my path to a ‘normal and predictable’ life, by my 50s I had lost everything – my home, savings, status among my peers, and, finally, my compass. I guess I hadn’t been paying attention.

Looking back, I think my Creator was trying to tell me I was made for better things and throwing me a curveball that would rock my world – and not in a good way – would get my attention. Or maybe it was. “If I take everything away from Wendy, maybe she’ll create a life she’s worthy of.”

Starting Over in Mid-Life
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Beginning again in my mid-50s was a journey in humility and courage. I read self-help books until I could have started my own mobile library. I watched YouTube videos informing me I was doing it all wrong and, if I listened to them, my future would be fast tracked to victory. These writers and practiced YouTubers were all successful business and life coaches, psychologists, motivational speakers, and the occasional charlatan. I figured with their impressive credentials, their success would rub off on me, or at least reveal the wisdom I was seeking.

I had, like so many others, bought into the $40 billion self-help industry. Why wouldn’t I? They mesmerized me with their ill-defined promises of success and happiness with books, self-improvement courses, and speaking engagements – all very motivating but unsustainable. The bigger the brand the worse the results. Gee, some of these guys were giving advice to Oprah. Something told me I was barking up the wrong tree.

After a few weeks or months, I would return to my old ways, and nothing changed except my bank balance because I had bought the book, purchased the seats for the show or paid for that instructional course that did not come with a guarantee. The results of what I was seeking didn’t show up. I obviously wasn’t smart enough and these gurus were just better than me. Time to give up.

A Fortuitous Miracle...

In my search for resurrection, I came upon two books. These books ultimately changed the direction of my life.
I read American writer Elizabeth White’s book, Fifty-five, Unemployed, and Faking Normal. Elizabeth had also been struggling after being laid off, smiling when she really wanted to cry, and draining her bank accounts to stay afloat. I saw a lot of myself in her, but she had a suggestion that I hadn’t considered – a tribe of like-minded friends. She believed that companionship and sharing makes everything look less bleak and miracles possible.

I also discovered Anne Lamott’s book Bird by Bird. Anne recounted her childhood with humour and honesty rather than writing a saga of past dysfunction and sadness. Her beautiful prose made me want to walk in her footsteps and write with her optimism and style.
It was at that moment I turned around and walked back to Robert Frost’s fork in the road, where the two roads diverged, and took the road less travelled and yes, it has made all the difference. I started taking my writing seriously, improving it by taking courses at a local writing centre, and changed my depressing memoir into a book of inspiration.

I began chronicling my journey from lack and despair to joy and success; a book that would encourage readers to pack up their regrets and lost opportunities and forgive themselves. My book would be a resource that would brighten the bleakest day by providing tools, ideas and companionship to help readers achieve their thrilling goals. And I would do it by achieving my own goals and sharing what I’d learned with others.

The Virtual Kitchen Table

I invited three imaginary girlfriends to share a coffee with me at my kitchen table. They would be my crew of middle-aged women warriors; my confidantes and wing women until I was brave enough to share my story with real flesh-and-blood people.

This kitchen table discussion became the inspiration for my book, A Life Postponed. Instead of a memoir or a book on “how I fixed myself and you can too,” the concept would be a conversation among women who were sharing similar leaky boats. It would be just the four of us sitting around my table, coffees in hand, dumping our collective, dismal circumstances on the tablecloth to be gathered up and placed in the trash receptacle at the back door. From now on, our discussions would be about coming up with real, tangible solutions to get the most out of our second half.

“Friendship … is born at the moment when one man [woman] says to another, “What! You too? I thought that no one but myself . . .”
― C.S. Lewis

So here are a couple of suggestions for you. You can start your own kitchen table revival group – real or imagined. Get it all out, off your chest, and then start focusing on what exciting futures you will create for yourselves.

Not quite there yet? No worries. I invite you to a seat at my tribe’s virtual kitchen table. We discuss practical ideas, out-of-the-box jobs and volunteerism, resources, and above all, your new tribe. Don’t think for a moment you are alone.

“Whether you think you can or you think you can’t – you’re right.”
―Henry Ford

The choice is yours. A leap of faith takes courage and work. Are you ready?

What to learn more? Read my debut book A Life Postponed – so you too can discover joy and purpose in mid-life and beyond!

​(originally published for Sixty and Me)

The first thing I know for sure is there is only one way you can fail and that’s if you believe you don’t deserve to win. The second thing I know for sure is that positive thoughts require energy and negative thoughts require no effort at all.

Moving One Block Can Cause the Whole Tower to Tumble

There is a myriad of reasons why a woman in mid-life and beyond might find herself in a state of emotional or financial crisis. It could be a messy divorce leaving bank accounts drained, worthless investments being found to be scams, or personal problems or health issues depleting life savings. It could be as simple as being laid off, with no one wanting to hire a 50-plus woman to their management team.

You may be struggling with feelings of irrelevancy, stress, hopelessness or lack of a sense of purpose. Are you in limbo, waiting patiently for that perfect moment to bloom?

If you’re 50 or older, you may feel redundant. Our youth-oriented society’s yardstick has measured us past our prime. Our allotted time to shine, be relevant and successful is over. We had our chance; if things didn’t work out, well, it’s too late now. Roll yourself out to the curb with a sign pinned to your chest that reads Past Due Date and wait for the refuse collector. What could we possibly have to offer this late in the game of life?

As It Turns Out, Quite a Lot!

It’s time for us to reimagine and redefine our purpose later in life. Your entire adult existence has been taking care of others: your children, spouse, a corporation’s board of directors. Everyone has had a piece of you to reach their dreams and goals while balancing on your shoulders.

Ideas and visions of who you are, what you want and where you want to go are fluid and constantly changing. Whether you had the good fortune to follow your vision or stored it away for later, something happened to bring life to a halt, and you are at a crossroads.

“I’m Too Old to Start Over”

If you’re not satisfied with your life to date, change it. What are you waiting for? You’re still standing, perhaps tilting a bit like a tree that’s experienced too many storms.

You are not alone. If you’ve lost your compass and feel you no longer have the strength and tenacity to chart your course, it’s time to reach out to a new tribe to help you on your journey.

Society may think we’ve fallen through the cracks and have no place to go but down – no money, no hope, no future – but I’ve got news for them: we have no place to go but up. We are looking forward to an exciting, albeit different, second half of life.

Just like a grand old house that’s seen better days, transform yourself into a brand-new design, a magnificently renovated, imposing mansion that no hurricane of challenges can blow down.

A Life That Is Enough for You

What are you looking for? Encouragement, income ideas, resources, friendships, the story of someone who has shared your circumstances? Has a new idea sprung to life in your imagination, or are you considering revisiting a dormant dream that’s ready to bloom?

A community of many voices with an abundance of courage and grassroots ideas is waiting to hear from you. What are your goals? Happiness, friendships, financial security, travel? Just what is it that YOU desire?

What Are You Prepared to Do to Achieve the Life You Say You Want?

Tell God, the Universe, Mother Nature or just yourself what you want. Say it out loud, write it down, post it on the wall, and believe you deserve it. If you have faith, the Universe will immediately start the process of rearranging things to make it happen. Be very specific: this is your Magnum Opus! Believe it, plan for it, keep moving forward with grit and purpose, and voila, it will appear.
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Beware the Good and Bad News

The good news is that if you open your mind, stop dismissing new ideas and stop making excuses, you will get everything you want. The bad news is you don’t get to choose the timeline. But I can tell you this from my own experience: if you are willing to forge ahead and have unwavering faith in yourself, you will get everything you want.

We all know the first step is the hardest. But then it gets easier. Inspire yourself, and others will be inspired by your actions.

What to learn more? Read my debut book A Life Postponed – so you too can discover joy and purpose in mid-life and beyond!

​(originally published for Sixty and Me)

If where you currently live isn’t serving your soul, what is holding you back from moving to that seaside village, or adopting a country casual lifestyle or inner-city vibe? Is there a reason why you must live where you are currently residing? What is it that’s keeping you stationary? Is it family, friends, financial obligation, being the grandchildren’s babysitter, guilt of leaving family behind or fear of new beginnings? Is it possible you are making excuses so you don’t have to do anything?

“If you’re brave enough to say goodbye, life will reward you with a new hello.” – Paulo Coelho

Have you researched other countries’ cost of living, healthcare and amenities? If you start surfing the internet, you’ll find many examples of women who’ve pulled up stakes, made that leap of faith and are living brand new lives for far less. Read their stories and get inspired!

Excellent healthcare can be cheaper in places such as Spain, Portugal, France and Mexico, to name a few. If you’re unsure, store your stuff with family or in a storage unit – just in case. Commit yourself to a few months or a year and see what happens. You just might be starting the next exciting chapter of the Book of You.

Downsizing

Many folks resist downsizing – it can be hard to decide what stays and what goes. You raised your children in your home, and happy memories are contained within those four walls. But sometimes, finances or physical health makes this option impossible. When I had to make this decision, I reminded myself that much of our “stuff” hadn’t been used in years, and folks just starting out might appreciate my well-cared-for items. Memories are transportable but hanging on to size 5 suits after retirement is just ludicrous.

Try looking at the positives. Downsizing means less stuff to dust. Brenda, a Facebook acquaintance, and her husband had a beautiful, large family home in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. They would have lived there forever if they could, but it became too expensive. So, this active, outdoorsy couple with a passion for travel and entertaining decided to move to sunny and hot Osoyoos, British Columbia, and downsized to an apartment condo.

The destination was perfect and the view spectacular, but the apartment was tiny. Going from a huge four-bedroom home to a one-bedroom was devastating for Brenda. She didn’t complain, but you could sense she was struggling in her Facebook posts.

Knowing how much she loved hiking and boating, I suggested that the square footage of her home may have decreased, but the size of her wilderness backyard was enormous and stunning! Her kids would love visiting with all that outdoor space and activities to enjoy. In the spring, when we were still getting hit with Calgary, Alberta snowstorms, I was envious of her Facebook photos of sailboats on the lake and flowers blooming everywhere.

It’s all in the way you look at it; appreciate what you have, not what you don’t. I know few people who would complain about beautiful Osoyoos. By the way, a few years later, Brenda and her husband upgraded to an even larger condo in the same building, bought a boat and fell in love with their new lifestyle. Nothing stays the same forever. Keep moving forward, and you’ll get what you want.

I go out of my way to behave the exact opposite of what is expected of a person my age — much to the chagrin of my family. And even though I am a senior in years, I pride myself on feeling 25 years younger. But when shingles ambushed my body, I was stunned to discover what I was up against!

On July 2, while volunteering at the Calgary Jazz Festival, I noticed pain in my side and lower back. It felt as though the belt I was wearing was scratching my skin. But that couldn’t be — my belt was over my shirt, not under.
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The following day I noticed a few red spots on my right side, which I attributed to an allergic reaction to something I ate. But by the end of the day, I had a sneaky feeling something was up. So when a nasty rash bloomed, it became clear what I was dealing with. A disease that old people get (or so I thought) — shingles! How could someone as healthy and active as me come down with this ugly malady?

​Monday, July 4, I phoned my doctor’s office to book an emergency visit. No such luck. If you live in Alberta, you understand. She could see me in a week. That was not the answer I was looking for.

I then telephoned around to various walk-in clinics. Either they had paused walk-ins (too busy), or the wait times were two to three hours. Since I had to go shopping anyway, my husband suggested I ask the Safeway pharmacist if she might confirm what I had and recommend something.

Did you know that pharmacists can get you drugs? I sure didn’t. Ms. Pharmacist took me into the back room, wrinkled up her nose as she examined my side, confirmed that I indeed had a bad case of shingles, and filled a prescription for me. I didn’t even know they could do that! Note to self — skip the line in the future.

Ms. Pharmacist prescribed Valacyclovir Hydrochlorvir, a medication that, if taken in the first 72 hours, was supposed to reduce my period of suffering and prevent the possibility of permanent nerve damage. So I went home, a bottle of gigantic, ugly green pills in hand, confident I would be on the mend in no time.

Not quite. Two doses later, I woke up the following morning in a panic, my face hot and itchy. After one look in the bathroom mirror through swollen eyelids, I donned my sunglasses and made a mad dash back to the pharmacy. I had had an allergic reaction, and my face had blown up into a grotesque Halloween pumpkin! My not-so-unsubstantial Welsh nose was now consuming most of my face. Ms. Pharmacist’s advice was to stop taking the meds and see my doctor. I think I’m going in circles. Note to self — do not skip the line!

My husband and I decided that the in-store clinic at our local Superstore was the shortest line, so that’s where he dropped me off. An hour later, I was seen by a doctor — who was filling in for the regular doctor — and I was prescribed a numbing cream (which cost a fortune and did nothing) and lots of Tylenol 3. Her solution: take two T3s every 6 hours, two Advil every 4–6 hours, one to two Benadryl before bed and one Reactine during the day. All of this was in an effort to combat the agony I was about to be plunged into.

On a pain scale of one to ten, I give shingles a nine, inched out only by abdominal surgery during my second month of pregnancy 40 years earlier. But it was a close second!

For the next two weeks, I endured shooting pains as if being stabbed from the inside out. The rash turned into gross blisters that, thankfully, were not itchy. My skin felt like it was on fire, and it was necessary to use ice packs to bring it down to a slow burn.

Because of all the drugs, my mind was in a fog. I worked minimally on my clients’ vacations so as not to screw anything up. Writing was out of the question as words eluded me, and trying to sleep through the next few weeks of misery was all I wanted to do.

I thought I was pretty tough, but shingles was tougher. When faced with excruciating pain, day after day, night after night, week after week, I was prepared to sell my soul for relief. The round-the-clock pain and chronic nausea (oh yes, there is that too) bring on depression. During week 3, I told my husband I was contemplating jumping off the roof of our building because I didn’t think the balcony was high enough.

I was beginning to think that my time was up. My old heart was bound to give out with all the drugs I was popping. I’m not too fond of medication, and the strongest thing I usually take is my daily dose of calcium and vitamin D3. Was the Universe trying to tell me it was time to start acting my age? Please — not that!

Wouldn’t you know the weather this particular summer was one of the best Calgary had experienced in years! And here I was canceling all my summer plans — lazy walks, sunny patios, golfing, summer festivals, crafts and fresh food markets, and even my hairstylist.

By July 20, I decided that if my mind pretended I was well, I could fool my body. I said no more Tylenol 3s. Since I was allowed to take two every six hours, I was gobbling them up every four hours. For those of you who don’t know, Tylenol 3 dries up your bowels. So on top of the agony of shingles, I now had to deal with constipation. After rummaging around my kitchen, I came upon an old bottle of Restoralax hiding in the back of a cupboard — not yet expired. It eventually did the trick, and that is enough said about that.

July 21 — I refuse to take anything more substantial than Advil. No more prescription meds! I was now suffering at a pain level of 4 out of 10 — 24/7 — but I could feel tiny incremental improvements. Advil two to three times a day. Ice pack on my waist at night.

July 31 — commencing week five. I was so fed up with shingles and pain, nausea at the thought of food, lack of energy, and a lower back that was still on fire. I was scheduled to see my doctor in two days if only for her assurance that I was getting better.

August 2 and my doctor finally has time to see me. She puts me on Gabapentin which is used for people with chronic pain. Once a day for now, then two, and can be supplemented with regular Tylenol. It didn’t really help, but little is better than none.

Visiting my own doctor was an eye-opener. Why was my stomach aching, and why was I still feeling nauseous? Well, it turned out it could be all that Advil I was taking, and her advice was to stop immediately. Didn’t I know Advil eats away your stomach lining with overuse? No, I didn’t know that. Did you? So much for walk-in clinics. No more Advil was her advice — if necessary, take Tylenol.

August 16 -- Follow up with my doctor. As the pain in my stomach continues to drag on, she prescribes Pantoprazole and suggests taking Gravol Ginger to settle my tummy from all that Advil. My substantial pill collection is turning into a pharmacy.

As I neared the 5-week mark, the fire had subsided, but my torso felt like it was being rubbed raw with sandpaper every time I moved or brushed against fabric. If my husband so much as rolled over in bed, I gritted my teeth in an attempt to stop myself from kicking him to the floor!

Once again, I am trying to behave “pre-shingles normal.” The much-needed haircut has been accomplished, and one last ladies’ golf league round is scheduled for the end of the month.

August 22, and this is where my shingles journey ends. I now suffer from postherpetic neuralgia (PHN). This is when nerve pain continues even after shingles has departed. It can last for weeks, months, or in some people, years. My pain is about 1 or 2 out of 10, but I still feel slightly depressed and get brief, strange pangs of anxiety in the pit of my stomach. I have read this is par for the course.

Is it possible to get shingles again? You bet! So I will be coughing up the $300 plus for the vaccine in three months as I never want to go through this again. It isn’t covered under Alberta Health Care — even if you are a senior. Outrageous that the most likely to get shingles are also the ones who can least afford the vaccine. I will be having a chat with my provincial MLA about that.
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My active life has been altered as I patiently wait for the mild, constant pain and fatigue to depart. I can only hope I am not one of those people who will suffer for years.
​
(originally published for Crow's Feet: Life As We Age)

I have an appointment on November 19 at 3:30 p.m. It says so right here — on the pad of paper I keep beside my laptop in my office. It is circled in red so I don’t forget to put it in my calendar. Well done me. Now if I could only remember who the appointment is with. I distinctly remember phoning someone and arranging this booking and being surprised that I couldn’t get in sooner.

It isn’t my doctor, nor my dentist (that’s today), not my editor, it’s too late in the day for lunch with a friend, and my hair stylist isn’t until November 26. Maybe it’s with the memory clinic. Hell if I can remember!

My mother is 103 and suffers from dementia. But we were told it was due to her coming down with COVID and it does not run in our family. So what’s my problem?

My husband thinks it might be a delayed reaction caused by us older babyboomers chasing the DDT fog trucks down the streets of Southern Ontario back in the 1950s, spewing their contents into our faces. Now wasn’t that a good idea! Playing in the murderous fog, filling our lungs with poison. I can’t remember if it was to kill the mosquitoes or the weeds. But it was certainly killing something since it’s now banned in Canada.

I’ve been on hiatus from Medium. I had, along with so many others, taken up arms against the filthiest opponent on earth. That piece of sh*t called cancer had come to tear our son apart.

When melanoma first attacked Alex’s healthy and athletic body, he was 38 years old. Single, starting a new career with a company he loved, and getting closer to owning that hobby farm he dreamed of. He would have to go out and buy a new pair of shades for that bright future!

Our family had been pacified into believing surgery and treatment had won the battle. Future check-ups proved that cancer had been stopped in its tracks, and we could stop holding our breath and get back to leading our lives. Cancer did not run in our family; therefore, it was merely a blip on Alex’s timeline.

But this turned out to be false. At the time, we didn’t know melanoma was incurable — it can only be lulled into behaving itself. Instead, it seemed cancer had merely been toying with Alex and had quietly been regrouping in a twisted game of death by inches. It wanted another go at him.

I think this blog post - which I wrote a couple of years ago - will give you a good overview of who I am and what you can expect to hear from me. This is just the beginning of our friendship.

As someone who has spent her entire life on the peripheral, I know all about being a square peg in a round hole. As a beauteous, shy young woman who desperately wanted to fit in, I would never have thought to say anything that ran contrary to popular opinion.

If I kept my mouth shut, faked ‘normal’, smiled alluringly, and just stood there being impartial, I would not be in danger of committing popular suicide. But in the back of my mind, I knew I was tilting oh so slightly on the normalcy scale. At the time, I just didn’t realize that was actually a gift and not an obstacle to overcome.

As time passed, my struggle with self-image continued into middle age and I sought out someone to emulate. If my life story were to be made into a movie, who would I want to play me? The elegant Jane Seymour or the quirky Ellen Barkin?

Mrs. Perfect in Every Way
You know who she is. The woman who always gets voted to chair the committee, the one most admired for her skills at — well, everything! Women clamor around her hoping her wonderfulness might rub off on them or, dare I say, be invited into her inner circle of BFFs.

You just know if you knocked on her door at 2 a.m., she would greet you as if expecting company: hair stylishly messy, designer housecoat with matching glass slippers, benevolent, honey-sweet words greeting you from her well-defined cupid’s bow lips.

She was Olivia de Havilland to my Bette Davis. Catch me at 2 a.m. and you would be greeted by a disheveled Marilyn Manson. She is the one everyone says, “She’s just so nice. Let’s make her our leader.” I hated her yet wanted to be just like her.​