Author: daniellemacquarrie

Chapter Twelve: #Canceled

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Many people can relate to the idea that sometimes we are villains in other people’s stories regardless of how we see ourselves and how good we are. I think it’s impossible to get through life without offending someone. Much of my life has been spent actively trying to avoid offending because I have this tendency not to want to hurt anything or anyone, but no matter what, eventually, somewhere along the way, people will view you as an antagonist who got in their way or interfered in their life in some capacity.

I am far from perfect, but I strive to be a good person continually, and I have former roommates who are no longer my friends who were there during dark times in my life and who I’m sure could attest to how truly imperfect I am. I would 100% agree with them, without question. Our perceptions are subjective; sometimes, we don’t always know what’s going on in someone else’s world, and others might view us in ways that wildly differ from how we see ourselves.

I remember I was invited to a wedding. I was too broke and embarrassed to mention that my gift would be late, which, in hindsight, would have provided enough clarity to avoid any misunderstanding. Still, for someone who often struggles with anxiety and has an avoidant nature at times, it has been difficult in the past to mention these things or talk about them openly. Unless you have experienced certain things personally, people don’t go out of their way to empathize, how they might perceive a situation or scenario, or where another person might be coming from.

Several months before the wedding, I had purchased a greeting card congratulating the new couple on their happy life together and was waiting to get paid before I sent it along with some cash. I attended the beautiful outdoor wedding and enjoyed my time there. I went back home, and a week or two went by. I reached out to her through social media and noticed that she had deleted me from the app, as did her brother.

Four years went by before I saw the couple again at a barbecue. I received an icy reception emanating from the woman. During our brief conversation, she made a point to reference that she bought her purebred dog with her wedding money, which I felt was her way of confirming the reason for her ending our relationship. I considered bringing it to her then, but it didn’t feel right then. I saw it as a teaching tool for me and felt the need to hold on to it for some reason.

I regretted not voicing to her that I didn’t have money when I went to her wedding—that maybe it was wrong of me to attend a function like that without providing a gift at that moment. I thought about the embarrassment I felt as a result, and I dwelled upon how she might have perceived me, but ultimately, when she made that comment four years later, I felt okay about no longer having her in my life.

The reality is sometimes, when we have those encounters, it’s way more about the other person than it ever is about you. There will be people who dislike you immensely; they might outright hate you, wish ill will for you, and will not cheer when you succeed, and there is nothing you can do about trying to win over that group of people. Ultimately, you wouldn’t want to anyway because why cling to those who don’t even like you?

And there will be times when you are most certainly the jerk in the situation; you are the asshole, and there is no way around that. It’s an innately human experience that we will all take part in, and the best course of action is to blame yourself once, apologize, make amends if you can, and move forward because constantly dwelling on it isn’t helping anyone.

I come from a spiritual perspective with most aspects of my life, and I view the idea that we are all jerks, at least some of the time, as a necessity of life. In the spiritual sense, we are all effectively teachers and students, and everyone has their wisdom to share. Often, that wisdom comes in the form of harsh life lessons, but we can often look back at them or specific periods in our life and think, “Oh wow I’m a different person now as a result of those moments,” despite how difficult that situation was for me.

An example might be that in the wedding scenario, my lesson was about overcoming embarrassment and letting them know their gift would arrive in a few weeks. It could be about being more comfortable with frankness and alleviating doubt in situations where doubt can come into play. I know that I learned the value of being open and honest about my intentions, and maybe if there even was a lesson to be remembered for her, she might have gained more insight into assumptions and what kinds of things we assume about people.

I honestly don’t know, and if there is one, her takeaway has no bearing on my journey. What I do know is that often, our greatest teachers in life are the ones that cause us the most frustration. Some of my best course corrections have stemmed from deciding to see things from a different point of view, reevaluating, and changing direction so we can move forward.

Changing your perspective can make a world of difference. In the example of being “cancelled,” I didn’t lose out that much in terms of a relationship because I wasn’t that close with this person, but I did learn a valuable lesson through the supposed loss. Having her effectively delete me from her life had more growth associated with retaining that one additional friend on social media. I developed more through this scenario than if I were still friends with her on Facebook.

I’m sure there are situations in your own life where you can look back upon moments and notice how impactful certain endings have been in your world. In some scenarios, you are better off without them, or you change due to that loss. You probably needed to cut ties at other moments and felt relieved when you did. Sometimes we are the asshole but have also been a victim. Sometimes we are teachers, sometimes the students, and often, we are both simultaneously. Regardless, there are lessons to be learned from being impactful and having an impact, and the intention is always to grow and learn from those interactions and try to do better the next time.

Chapter Eleven: Daydreaming

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As a child, I often found myself not paying attention in class, which I think was mainly because I was so often bullied in school, even within the classroom setting, and I was just smart enough not to have to apply myself, so I didn’t.

So, I effectively learned how to daydream my days away until I could go home, and I didn’t realize how vast my dreamscape was in terms of how I lived my life until I started working for a hotel in my city of Halifax, Nova Scotia back in 2021 as a reservation agent. I was working under a woman who was, in hindsight, cartoonishly vindictive and would go out of her way to make my life difficult when it would only add more work for her. She wasn’t the brightest light on the street, and I noticed I began to zone out while doing my job. I was good at it since it was easy, and once I figured out all the software, I could easily daydream about other things while booking guests into the hotel rooms.

In a sense, I was living life from a space of non-existence and at the time, it brought me joy because I was disassociated from reality and numbing out from sheer willpower alone. I was living in the fantasy world of my creation, and I became aware that while some people use drugs or alcohol, and I think even mental illness to some degree sometimes, I was getting through life by merely daydreaming my way through it. It felt easier not fully seeing and experiencing the world but just being numb to it all and creating my reality.

I was genuinely content during this phase of my life. Still, I was also not living it either or feeling rewarded in a philanthropic sense, and I wholeheartedly know that spirit is much more aware and has a greater plan for all of us than we could ever fully grasp. We are often guided by nature, and sometimes forcibly so—into positions that allow us to best serve others, often by making us feel uncomfortable doing what is deemed as status quo or what seems like the most levelheaded, balanced or “normal” option because our purpose for being here is more crucial to the development of humanity than working a job that gives us “stability.”

Sometimes, there is no other option for those with a calling in life. We can try different careers, but ultimately, we will be pushed into a specific role because it is part of our life mission, what is best for others and why we incarnate. It’s what we signed up for before we arrived here in this lifetime, so regardless of what we think we should be doing, the universe will gently nudge us in the right direction.

And in all honesty, it sucks sometimes. There are moments when I reflect on my past self and my ability to drift through life as if I wasn’t even really here, and I have fleeting thoughts. Still, they pale in comparison because I was effectively sleepwalking through life and not accomplishing things that would invoke pride within myself or doing what felt innate to me. I was barely here and being nudged to be more present and express myself more.

It’s easier to live a safe life, and I was afraid to delve into things that inspire me the most because I was afraid to fail at something that meant so much to me. As comfortable as it is to continue to exist in my little wonderland, I was not doing what I was told to do by taking calls from a tiny office, and I wasn’t making a high-yield spiritual impact by working at a job like that. Spirit knew, spirit always knows, and I needed to remove myself from the situation to spend more time reflecting and musing about my experiences.

Eventually, my boss, a great teacher in my quirky little life story, decided to make my work life more uncomfortable, and I decided to part ways with the establishment. I was working on a creative project, which became more demanding of my time, and it was just spirit’s way of pushing me to do something better and more in alignment with who I am and what I want to become.

Sometimes, I think I know what’s better for me than better than the universe does. I can get caught up in thinking about how my life should look and how things should develop and unfold. Still, I’m not supposed to control every detail of my life, and sometimes, I have romanticized relationships or situations that I thought were meant for me. I felt that parting ways would be far too devastating a fate—only to move past that experience to find out later there was something far more significant and better suited for me, but had I not gone through those initial experiences, I might not have had such a deep appreciation for the good things that eventually came into my life.

Sometimes, growing spiritually creates an unusual offshoot and an unspoken side effect that can leave you questioning whether it’s worth it. Ultimately, it is, but there are moments where doubt can creep in, and I can go off track due to not being grounded enough, but spirit gently reminds me to realign myself and take a moment to breathe—breathe. The greatest gift I have ever received is transcending that veil and fully seeing how much our reality pales compared to what lies on the other side. When we realize that all our experiences are transient, whether good or bad, it helps us trudge through life’s difficulties more easily and reminds us how vast the concept of living is when we remove death from the equation. 

Each person has a purpose for being here. We should all strive to find a path that makes us happy and to lessen the pain of others around us since it is far better to serve the higher good and fulfill our unique purpose for being here than living our lives for others.

The world is far too dark sometimes and bleak to limit our self-perception to an image we were taught to accept as who we truly are. I’d much rather live a life where I feel I’m making a difference than lesson myself for “keeping up with the Joneses” or fulfilling an acquaintance’s view of who I should be.

Our time here is precious, and our purpose isn’t to daydream through life or fast forward through the weekdays so we can enjoy moments when we’re not sitting in a cubicle, longing to be somewhere else. It’s about making the opportunities count, helping others move through life in a less burdensome way, and enjoying the sweet aspects of life with the ones we love as often as we can.

Chapter Ten: Angel Encounters- A Lesson in Releasing Fear

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I had an event occur when I was a child that I will always hold close to my heart. It happened when I was nine and was crucial to my spiritual development. I remember I woke up in the middle of the night to the purest white light I have ever encountered, and since that happened, all light has paled in comparison. As I opened my eyes, I witnessed a beautiful angel standing at the foot of my bed.

The being presented itself in a feminine way and was statuesque. She was beautiful but held a severe expression and wore a white gown that flowed to the floor. Her wings were large and full of pure white feathers, and her presence felt commanding. I remember being terrified because of how otherworldly she was, and I felt utterly overwhelmed by the sight of her.

I instinctively grabbed my cat, who was sleeping with me and hid under the covers with him. When I summoned enough courage to uncover my face, she was gone. Her presence heralded difficult times ahead, and I saw her a few months before my father was viciously attacked in Vancouver, an event that permanently changed him mentally and physically.

Although I knew she was holy and emanated divine power. I never understood her stern and severe expression and had often questioned why she didn’t appear warmly to me. I often thought about it and worried about the implications of her face and what that said about me. Her stoicism lingered with me, and I often reflected on it until I could reconnect with her in 2019 when I began taking a course on spirituality, which changed my life in so many immeasurable ways. In hindsight, it was the gift of reconnection.

I remember I had a vision that was so clarifying and healing. I saw this exact figure I had seen as a child, but now she came to me so much softer. I saw myself on the property of my childhood home where I had initially encountered her, and she was under one of my favourite trees in the woods behind my house. She hugged me by a pond I visited frequently as a child and told me telepathically, “Do not be afraid…  you are on the right track… just trust.”

She was with Archangel Gabriel, and the interaction profoundly shifted my thoughts and feelings around the encounter I had experienced as a child. I remember I was so confused when I heard the words, “Do not be afraid.” It wasn’t until a few months later that I learned that specific phrase is commonly recounted when people describe their experiences with angels—when Archangel Gabriel is involved. Still, I kept that phrase to myself initially because I didn’t understand what it all meant.

Messages come through more profoundly and often circle back again since the beginning of my spiritual journey, which was a reconnection to a divine source. Those words, “Do not be afraid,” resonate stronger today and much more strongly than in 2019.

I have always been a loner and, often, just plain lonely, and I only recently realized how significantly detached I am and how I live in my thoughts most of the time. And since my thoughts were often safer than reality growing up, this resulted in a life lived and dreamed rather than experienced in the physical world.

So, from my perspective, the words “Do not be afraid” were never about fearing the angels themselves but about releasing my fear around my engagement with life. Life is meant to be experienced and fully lived, and I didn’t realize until that day how significantly cut off I had been from everything. Afraid to allow, afraid to share, afraid to think of how many unlimited possibilities there are. I wondered how often I had stayed small out of fear that things could go wrong and, more aptly, how often had I been terrified that something might go right.

Close to a year after having this meditation and seeing my angel again. I had moved into a new apartment. A few days before I vacated the premises, my mother was cooking and left a burner on high. She returned to her bedroom and forgot about it before the pot caught on fire. The cupboard doors were blackened entirely, and there was thick smoke everywhere.

I just assumed there was a lot of damage from the smoke alone from her description of the flames, but surprisingly, there wasn’t, and as I was packing boxes and going through my belongings, I found a journal that I had written in as a child, and this is what I wrote all those years ago.

“October 16, 1996, Page 1

Last week, I awoke to be startled by an angel. She had short hair, and she had wings and big brown eyes. She looked troubled and serious.”

I didn’t remember writing it, but it was an immensely appreciated message from Spirit on such a chaotic and stressful day. It was something tangible and solid that I could hold and look at as a reminder of the divine nature of the universe and the synchronicities that are so dear to me.

Chapter Nine: Letting Go of the Music

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Music has always felt so profoundly affective for me; I would have been a musician in another life. However, in this current incarnation, I tried several times to master the guitar. Still, I struggled with weak hands and coordination, so I settled for a deep appreciation and random karaoke nights.

Music is universal and essential across all cultures within our world. I often think about how our human ancestors strung together pieces of melodies before they even had the language to describe what they were doing. Maybe they hummed to themselves or made sounds that were pleasing to the ear, but I find it fascinating and affirming how vital music is. The idea that humanity had this way of communicating before the formation of language speaks to how essentially human that form of communication is.

I know that the drumbeat was sacred to early humans within the vast array of cultures that called Turtle Island home and within African nations. We store that same vibration and call for self-expression within our bodies today—perhaps on a cellular level. Music has been around long before recorded history, and it is part of our humanity and has been so impactful in my life. I reminisce about going to the record store as a kid and picking up a new album from an artist I loved. I typically ripped the package when I returned to my mom’s car and put it on immediately.


I listened to each track in order and would read along with the lyrics as I went through each song one by one. I mull over which ones were my favourite and mentally rank them in my mind, hoping the album I just purchased would be one with very few songs I would want to skip through. This was a different time, and things have changed quite a bit in how we consume media, specifically how we engage with music.

Concerts are still available, which is fantastic—especially in a post-Covid world. Still, I find the way my brain is wired, I always enjoyed going through an album this way, which I find is difficult for me to do nowadays because it’s so easy to get sidetracked or listen to one song by an artist instead of fully listening to more of their discography. At least in my personal experience, I found this to be the case.

I have developed more nostalgia for the memories I have from these years because I find myself listening to the same songs repeatedly, and I think having a visual reminder of those artists I love in front of me would be more helpful in remembering the bands I love so much but might have forgotten.

A few years ago, I was in the middle of an apartment move and was sifting through the entire contents of my life, which consisted of a few boxes and several bags of clothes that no longer fit me. I was throwing out 90% of my possessions because my low-income apartment was riddled with mould and it didn’t seem healthy to keep what little I had.

I remember listening to the words of a prolific author at that time who spoke about his spiritual development and his ability to part with possessions because he had reached enlightenment where material things were no longer needed in his life. About the benefits of minimalism, I took it as a sign that I might find a deeper level of spirituality by letting go of something that brought me immense joy. 

I had begun reconnecting to a spiritual journey and was thrust into a position where I needed to part with things—due to sheer necessity alone. I pondered his words and thought that I might do the same. I hadn’t opened the box containing the CDs in several years after suddenly needing to move back in with my mom. I wondered if ridding myself of my most cherished possessions would make me feel more connected to divine source energy.

It was almost a test for myself to prove that my proudest collection, which I carefully gathered from childhood through adolescence until my university years, ultimately was unnecessary, and my desire to hold on to these objects would eventually make me feel unfulfilled. I wanted to prove that I could let go of something vastly important to me, and I did. I packed up my large box of 135 CDs, brought them to a used CD store, and exited the building with $20 in my pocket and sadness I couldn’t shake for about a month.

I didn’t think of the ramifications the mould issue might have on his store, but his excitement led me to believe it would have been a nonissue for him anyway, and it is probably a good thing I don’t have them in my possession anymore. It’s strange to say out loud, but I did it as a test to see if I could part with something meaningful. It was something I knew objectively going into that CD store, and I can’t explain it in terms other than that, but I needed to do it for some reason, and I learned a lot from the situation.

Having grown up with limited means, to put it mildly, you know I always treasured everything I had, and as a family, we didn’t throw much away. Until this move in this mould situation, all my toys and books from childhood were contained within this small two-bedroom apartment. So, when I was going through the boxes that contained all my worldly possessions and remnants of seemingly every experience I ever had growing up, it became apparent and evident that not much was going to be moving with me—including my precious CDs.

I was keenly aware, even at this point in my history, of how transient life is and how accurate the adage is you can’t take it with you because the reality is this life, this world, my experiences will live on forever, but not in a literal physical sense, and for me to really fully grasp that concept and to fully engage with that thinking, I felt it necessary to part with something, one of the very few things I owned that brought me joy and even a sense of pride, because I felt called to do so.

It wasn’t because I wanted to, and it wasn’t because I needed to make a point about being pious to some other person because, honestly, I don’t think many people even knew I did this. It was about me leaning into that decision and feeling lost. I even felt frustrated with the author whose words inspired my actions because he was writing from a different place and point in his life.

I grappled with gender politics, power dynamics, and sheer wealth. How those variables vastly impact someone’s perspective on materialism and minimalism, but ultimately, I reconciled my emotions surrounding this decision with the idea that there’s an impermanence to life that makes it incredibly beautiful, heartbreaking, calming, and tragic but also allows the despair that I feel and have felt to be much more tolerable knowing that ultimately our lives are much shorter than we realize, and so is the pain we experience during our incarnations.

I come from the point of view and perspective that nothing is ever lost within the spirit world and that when I eventually make my journey home. I will have access to the things I loved and lost in this life, and I will sift through the long-awaited reunion with my most cherished possessions, at least the ones I cherished the most at the time when I last saw them and will have access to that box anytime, I want. I hope to grab an album and sing along as I drive down some old country road.

Chapter Eight: My Date with Saint Francis

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In 2018, one of the Catholic Churches in the city had the relic of Saint Frances of Assisi on display. I’ve never considered myself a religious person but having known a little bit about the life of this particular saint and feeling drawn to his spiritual views, I felt compelled to go. I wasn’t raised catholic, and although relics were a foreign concept. I liked the idea of being near someone whose teachings aligned well with my thoughts on spirituality. I now realize that a relic isn’t necessary to bridge that gap, and I’ve felt closer to him by speaking his words than I ever did by standing inside a church.

I began reading his prayers most days over the past few years, and although I have altered some of the wording to shy away from Christian doctrine – the sentiment remains the same. To me, his words are something to strive for and aspire to—every day and depending on what moment I read these passages, different aspects of the same prayer feel more heavily weighted.

I had been struggling with my health, stress levels, and navigating my spiritual compass. I’m sure fear had been the common denominator with all these issues, and I continually work through it all; I just felt less secure about navigating major decisions at various moments in my life, but when I discovered this quotation from Saint Francis there was such a resonance in his words that I immediately felt better. His words, “Wear the world like a loose garment, which touches us in a few places and there lightly.” It has had a profound impact on my life.

Something about this phrase immediately creates a subtle shift within me and forms a loving buffer. Most things in life are either out of my control or ultimately unimportant, and I do not need to desperately latch on to and dwell upon everything that happens to me. I need to be in the world, but not of it, to live and move so that I’m not so emotionally attached to everything that happens, to effectively “wear the world” lightly and be at peace.

There’s a lot of wisdom to be gained from choosing what things impact our lives, and the easiest way for me to think about it is the opinions of others and what kind of attachments we form in life. The best way to move through this world is with ease, in the sense that we can always be bogged down by trivialities or dwell on the opinions of others, but ultimately, someone’s idea of me has absolutely nothing to do with me.

If I can look at myself in the mirror and love what I see staring back at me, I can find a way to manage the rest. Maybe not always physically, but on a soul level, I can be okay with who I am. There have been multiple instances in my life where I felt unworthy, incapable, and not good enough for careers or other opportunities, but then later witnessed others succeeding at that very thing with maybe less natural skill. Still, the fact that they were willing to show up and do the work meant that they were ten steps ahead of me.

It stems from childhood conditioning, in assuming that I would be made fun of or not respected enough, so I decided against pursuing certain things in favour of a safer, more reliable route. Still, it gets to a point when you start re-evaluating how things work out for people who choose the safe path.

Sometimes, the people who decide to stay in well-paying jobs with a pension aren’t all that happy, and if I were made to choose financial security over Peace of Mind, then I would choose Peace of Mind 100% of the time. I’m only here once for this specific incarnation. Because of that, I will continue to be weird, sometimes reckless, and utterly unconventional. I will always value how I feel about my choices over how others view my decisions.

We apologize for not fitting into the moulds that others created for us. Still, often, they’re outdated and need to be remodelled or broken altogether so we can improve this world and our present realities. Joy and freedom of expression are meant for all of us, not just those in positions of power dictating how society should be run. It’s very much Okay to be different and to break the rules sometimes, specifically when those rules impede on the rights of others or don’t follow our internal code of conduct.

Remember to focus on what sparks joy and creates ease within yourself. Trust that as your inner guide to lead the way, rather than what others tell you, is the right decision. Many horrible atrocities have been rationalized because the rules were just seen as part of the status quo and not to be questioned. Regardless of whether it’s a life decision or my personal belief, I will be guided by my inner compass because it’s easier to lose the respect of others than it is to regain my self-respect. Relationships often don’t last forever, but I must justify my choices to the person who stares back at me from the mirror, and to me, that is far more important than appeasing people who might not be kind on the inside.

The St. Francis Peace Prayer holds excellent resonance with me. It reminds me always to be mindful of how I conduct myself in every moment since I am the only person who gets to decide how I conduct myself. The reality is that none of us are perfect and should not aspire to be perfect, but I find it helpful not to feel burdened by the perceptions of others because I don’t want to leave this life full of regret over the choices I didn’t make because I felt too self-conscious to put myself out there. We will make mistakes, but those mistakes often lead us to where we’re meant to be and are just as important, if not more so, than the highs in life. It’s more about realizing what is important to you and letting go of the rest.  

Chapter Seven: Psychosis and Finding a New Reality

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I never really struggled scholastically and always did well until university, where I began to find it challenging to stay on task. It was the first time in my life that I was 100% accountable and had to be motivated to wake up and go to school, do my assignments, and everything else on time. I wasn’t accustomed to having to try so hard, and it was the first time I was required to get through it all independently.

Suddenly, I was in a different province, away from home for the first time. I was 100% accountable for every misstep and found having many assignments due all at once difficult to manage. I started failing miserably at something that many people assumed I would be good at, and I was too stubborn to change directions, so I thought maybe I was to blame.

I was living with a friend who had once taken ADHD medication, and she noticed that she could accomplish a lot more while taking her medication. I looked up the symptoms online and saw many of them had paralleled my experience. I spoke to my family doctor about getting a referral to a psychiatrist to be assessed. Part of the diagnostic proceedings involved having friends and family fill out questionnaires and self-assessment tests to complete.

Some of my friends didn’t feel comfortable filling it out, but they did anyway, and inevitably, I was diagnosed with ADHD and was prescribed Adderall. Finding the proper dosage for me involved taking small doses at a time and increasing them until I felt I was in the correct state. I was supposed to self-monitor to see what level was best for me, and I took the highest dose of Adderall.

I remember I noticed some issues within the first few weeks, but I continued taking the medication because I was aware of the weight loss connected with taking a drug like that. Until then, I had already lost around 50 pounds, but after taking Adderall, I lost an additional 30 more. Mind you, at this point of losing 30 pounds, it wasn’t due to eating well and being thoroughly hydrated. It was through having zero sense of hunger and not sleeping for days. So, I continued with it as my relationships began to dissolve, and I struggled with navigating living arrangements when I wasn’t even speaking to the people I lived with.

The chaos that inevitably consumed my life continued for over a year and a half. It was so subtle at first. I have always described the experience to others as if I was slowly lowering myself into a warm bath, not because it was comfortable, but because it seemed so natural and as if I was slipping from one state into another. It’s just one of those points in my life that I rarely go back and examine because it wasn’t me living it.

Most days, I feel like those memories were from someone else’s life, and I get flashes of things here and there like I’m remembering it all from a dream. It began with making accusations towards a person I was in love with. That relationship dissolved, which would have eventually run its course anyway. Still, things progressed to making accusations against a professor of mine and finally hurling accusations against close family members.

During that time, I could lie in bed for hours staring up at the ceiling, envisioning horrific cartoon characters playing out weird scenarios using the chipped paint as a backdrop, or I could believe certain things transpired when they never really did. One unusual thing for most people who struggle with mental illness was how astutely aware I was of the fact that something was wrong, but I just wasn’t sure what that might be. I began researching my symptoms and tried to figure out exactly what was going on with me; I thought it might be the medication, but I banked on it being something else entirely.

My mother was struggling with trying to continue working while she had no idea what was going on in my world and began making psychiatry appointments for me every week in the hopes that I might ask her to take me to see the doctor one day.

Eventually, I did, and I asked for help. I remember speaking to my psychiatrist about no longer having any identity and had concerns about my future. He instructed me to immediately refrain from using the medication I was prescribed, but gave me new pills to take, and told me to go for walks but not to interact with anyone.

I found a journal entry years later where I spoke at length about my interactions and being told to take antipsychotics and only doing so to see “what might happen.” Within a few days, my mom noticed a shift in my eyes and demeanour. Within two weeks, I also noticed that things became more apparent, as if a thin veil in front of my eyes slowly vanished into nothingness, and that all the interactions I thought I had no longer existed.

They were merely figments of my imagination running wild, and suddenly, the world was tuned to a different dial than the one I had grown accustomed to. I was left sitting in this void that is very indescribable if you haven’t experienced it for yourself. I highly do not recommend it if you can avoid it, but those experiences gave me wisdom that I carry with me today.

Fortunately for me, my issues stemmed from a drug-induced psychotic state, and I was spared the fate of requiring this course of treatment for the rest of my life. I continued taking antipsychotics for several years until I felt secure enough to discontinue that course of treatment. That is not to discount medical intervention and the effectiveness of medication in terms of treating mental illness, which is a medical issue of the brain, but like any medication, if you don’t need to take it, then why would you and I’m happy that I no longer require these drugs to function in society.

Meditation and prayer are essential for feeling good, mainly because I am so sensitive to energy and my emotions. So, I require those moments to keep me balanced, modalities I utilize along my journey with mental health. Sometimes, things can get overwhelming when I don’t, and I must look at myself and realize that is something I need in my life now and in the future.

One of the most important lessons I learned from this experience was that I didn’t need to change myself to fit in with an educational institution that might not have been the right choice for me in the first place. I also didn’t need to take medication to let go of weight in hopes that the boy I was in love with might find me more appealing when he wasn’t attracted to women in the first place. I learned that many of us can go through dark periods and rarely speak of it to anyone else. We can survive insurmountable challenges, pick ourselves up again, and continue our journey until we inevitably make our journeys home one day, hopefully when we are old and tired and falling apart at the seams when we do.

We may find people in our lives that use our weaknesses against us. We might dwell on missed opportunities when those options were never meant for us. Whatever is meant for you will eventually find its way to you; if it doesn’t, it wasn’t yours in the first place. Sometimes, those things we think we lost out on were either helping us to shift our perspective so we could manifest something better into our lives or were steppingstones in our journey in life. Most importantly, it might just be about us learning something greater about ourselves overcoming obstacles and trying again tomorrow.

We don’t come into this world to have one good thing after another happen to us. We will face adversity and feel left behind sometimes. There will be days when we ultimately might think we are unworthy of being here and will want to throw in the towel. Undoubtedly, those awful moments, and even worse, will happen, but it doesn’t mean there won’t be good days that make us long for those moments and keep us here despite it all—because the goal is simple.

There are only a few requirements: to continue to try to be a good person whenever possible and not skip out too early. It isn’t even fire and brimstone if you can’t do either, but it’s preferred that you do both and certainly help as many people as you can, as often as you can.  Also, follow your bliss! What fills you with passion is an excellent map to follow and look for joyful moments whenever possible!

Choosing to incarnate on earth isn’t easy, and you should give yourself a break to remind yourself that you’re doing better than you realize. Maybe your words can impact someone else’s life and make their journey easier. Sometimes, the greatest gift you can give someone else is letting them know that they’re not alone, and then, even if it’s just true, expressing your journey in some way, you have no idea what kind of impact you can have on someone else’s life.

Chapter Six: Alone > Loneliness (Love & Other Stuff)

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Being the self-proclaimed weirdo has allowed me to feel indifferent to fitting in. I realized early on that I saw the world differently and often viewed what society deemed, as usual, to be fucking weird sometimes and that the idea of keeping up with the Joneses’ was something I could not relate to. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to maintain a level of decorum because I come from a place of privilege.

I grew up as a founding member of a Gay Straight Alliance in high school when I was allowed to be part of something like that. The mere fact that I grew up at a point in history and a location in the world where I could legally question concepts on gender and sexuality and go on to university without having to protest and fight my way into the classroom is a right that I am grateful for and one that I am conscious of. I have been allowed to embrace my oddness in ways that generations of women before me and queer people couldn’t.

The choice to spend time alone rather than in group settings at the risk of feeling lonelier was always preferred. I always felt fine by myself, but often found the company of others made me feel more isolated because it would highlight the feeling of being misunderstood. My mother remarked that even as an infant, I didn’t want to be held. I refused to eat until she propped my baby bottle onto a pillow and left me alone in a chair. She quickly realized that wouldn’t work, but that lone wolf energy was vital within me even at that age.

As I grew a bit older, I never socialized with the numerous other children my age who lived on my road and instead spent time alone because it was so much easier for me, and I felt happier to do so. Rather than sledding with the group of kids, I would go alone or spend time in the woods with my cat Sam, and we would explore together until I decided to walk back. He would always stay out later than me but returned every night and lived to 21 years old. I’m sure he bartered for more than his allotted nine lives because it felt like a miracle that he survived so many years going back and forth from our home to the woods, with our neighbour’s choice to poison and kill the rest of our pets.

Part of my lack of interest in pursuing people in a romantic sense stemmed from being so relentlessly bullied by boys in particular. I remember boys waiting outside my classroom pretending to ask me out as a joke, which I didn’t initially realize. Once the implications of that realization set in, I shut down on another level. I cut my hair, which might have been done subconsciously, but regardless, they stopped bothering me after that, and it felt safer to be funny, boyish, and invisible. It was a protective shield around me that got me through high school, and my crushes were so infrequent that I just never felt comfortable with really exploring that side of myself.

During my first year of university, I fell in love with a guy on my floor. I remember walking into his room by mistake and was smitten after that—to a degree that was overwhelming and unlike anything I had experienced up until that point. We both attended a campus song competition during frosh week, and he came prepared with the lyrics and motioned that I could share the page with him. I remember very few people showed up that day, and when we sat next to each other, we never conversed.

It was an odd exchange because neither of us spoke to each other. We both sang the utterly filthy lyrics of a revised Weezer song that two houses also chose to rewrite, and as the disorganized competition ended, we were told our house lost. Everyone began making their way back to our dorms, and I avoided walking around with him at all costs and chose to walk in the opposite direction until I felt the coast was clear to avoid speaking with him.

I was also terrified of bees; there were so many buzzing around us that day. He and I even joked later about how excessive they were. Eventually, our connection dissolved painfully, and I realized maybe the bees were there as a warning to avoid this connection.

Those years were tough for me, and living in residence, I expected to isolate myself from everyone ultimately, which is difficult when you share a 12×12 foot room with a stranger. It was incredibly awkward to an embarrassing degree for the first month of school, which is so cringy in hindsight.

As time passed, I became more social with everyone. I attempted in vain to appear as though I had been since the beginning of the semester, which my roommate would occasionally bring up—jokingly reminding me how that was not the case and how awkward I had been. Mind you, she had EVERY right to do so. I became closer to this guy I had quickly fallen for. We spent a lot of time together, and our mutual friends would often make jokes about me having a crush on him in group settings, which was embarrassing, but at the end of the semester, I realized the extent of my embarrassment.

I had a secret live journal account then, which was much less of a secret than I realized. I found out when I noticed my account was bookmarked on someone’s computer. It was incredibly humiliating, and I was so ashamed that no one ever mentioned it to me. Everyone read it, including the guy I liked, which made me doubt his intentions and feel confused about our friendship and his feelings for me.

Our relationship always felt like there was so much understated that we had this shared secret language only the two could speak. He slept over at my apartment most nights and would sleep on my couch. The whole situation felt like it was always on the verge of becoming more, and our relationship would eventually change into something else entirely. Still, it never did; on some level, I knew that from the start.

At the time, I cried so many wasted tears for someone who was never suitable for me. I felt so reactive to his presence, and I had such a visceral response to him that I mistook those feelings for attraction, but the reality was when he would say and do things that seemed to suggest moving towards something physical, I immediately knew I didn’t want that.

Looking back on that relationship, it made sense for me to be so infatuated with a guy who would eventually reveal he was actually in love with a man because I grew up having a lot of insecurities about so many things, and peers, family, and boys continually reminded me. Those perceived flaws were paramount in my value as an individual, human, and, most importantly, a woman.

So, looking back, it made sense why I would choose to fall in love with a person who would never commit to me because it was safer to love in secret and assume it wouldn’t work out than fall in love with someone that I could truly love and potentially end up losing them. The whole situation felt like a study in self-fulfilling prophecies because I assumed I wouldn’t find love and actively pursued a guy who would never be a healthy match for me.

We spent countless hours together learning so many important spiritual life lessons. I was actively rejecting many fucking cool people not only due to some weird loyalty to him but also because I never felt worthy of love in the first place.

It was easier for me to find inexcusable faults in the people asking me out than for them to quickly find equally inexcusable and “dump-able” offences within me. They can’t break your heart if you never let them in, so I continued living in my emotional fortress of solitude to keep love at bay and protect myself from getting hurt.

I found it so complicated losing such a significant person in my life. I wasn’t attracted to him overall because I misinterpreted my feelings since we had so much in common, and this unspoken bond between us always felt strong. When it ended, I was terrified that I would never find someone like that again because I do feel so different from most people, and it often feels more straightforward just to be alone than to engage in friendship most days.

Sometimes, life can feel very isolating, and I prefer being alone to feeling lonely at every opportunity. But there’s something beautiful about sharing experiences with another who truly sees you and helps you see the beauty in the world and within your soul.

I know that I will find the right person at some point in my life who feels like “home” rather than someone who makes me feel more isolated or perpetuates and reflects my negative ways of seeing myself back at me. Until that time, I put my faith in the universe to help me find my way to that person.

Chapter Five: Giving Credit Where Credit Is Due

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I have always been connected to my spiritual beliefs but grew up without religion. Rather than spending time in churches and youth groups, I was raised with a deep appreciation for Indigenous culture. As a child, I was heavily influenced by their traditional teachings around animal totems. My mom was close friends with an indigenous woman, and we always had books in our home about the sacredness of animals, the wisdom they carry, and what lessons we can learn from them.

Learning about animals was my initiation into learning about spirituality and connecting to a reality that’s often more real than this one. I remember being a child and seeing visions of things and not understanding them. I was comforted that they were often animals when I saw these visions. Their presence was connected to teachings, representing essential lessons from which humans could gain wisdom.

I am not an Indigenous person; I am predominantly Celtic in genetics and appearance, but I heavily relied on those teachings because those were the animals I would interact with as a child because they were native to this region. When I would go out into the woods and see an owl or have visions of ants or lynxes, my mom would read up on the medicine connected to those animals. She would explain what they represented and how they were teachers for us, and I took great comfort in that.

Although “traditional” religion was absent from my life, the animal teachers were akin to reading a sacred text growing up or learning about biblical parables in Sunday school. I appreciate those lessons because learning through the guise of an animal “teacher” made much more sense and felt more accurate than any time I spent in a religious institution. I’ve always had a deep appreciation for animals because I struggled with connecting to people, and animals were always accepting, loving, and unconditional in their approach to me.

I felt so isolated and alienated because I never really knew my father’s side of the family. Even though I spoke to my grandmother quite a bit, which I immensely appreciated, I always felt “half adopted” because I never really knew or understood certain parts of myself. As an adult, when I could speak to my relatives, I recognized aspects of myself that always seemed out of step with the rest of my family. I remembered knowing that my grandmother on my father’s side was a practicing Catholic and that my father was raised Catholic, and I thought maybe I wanted to be Catholic too. So, I decided to attend a religion class held after school on Wednesday nights at my elementary school. Fortunately, I only went to one class because I immediately realized it was not for me when the instructor asked the group to answer, “When do we meet God? When are we introduced to God?”

I remember naively putting up my hand and confidently answering, “When we are born,” and quickly being appalled when the instructor informed me that I was wrong and that someone would need to be baptized to have that connection with God. I remember being horrified; I knew that was untrue because that notion went against all my personal experiences. I knew deep within my soul that I had a connection to God, and hearing an adult tell me otherwise made me question the entire institution in that one moment.

Just hearing how someone could invalidate my spirituality so quickly and suggest that a source that I had prayed to in various moments in my life—like when my cat wasn’t feeling well or when family members were sick, and hearing her tell me that this figure didn’t know who I was? That those prayers were never heard, and even if they had been, would have been ignored solely because her church believed so—was an interaction that didn’t sit well with me.

I immediately felt so alienated knowing I was the only one in that room who hadn’t been baptized, and rather than listen and absorb her views on what religious doctrine instructed her to believe, I decided to remove myself from the situation, which just made sense to me. I had been fine without this religion until now, and I didn’t want to be part of one that saw me as something I wasn’t.

I remember towards the end of the evening, the instructor swore by mistake and immediately told us not to tell anyone, which was a huge red flag for me, and I couldn’t wait to go home and tell my mom what had happened. I now view that interaction as obviously way more problematic as an adult, and I’m so thankful I felt those uncomfortable emotions so quickly so I didn’t have to subject myself to more rooms full of people that would have skewed my perception of who I was, and perhaps even impact my relationship with the divine source.

I remember leaving and apologizing to my mom because I had taken $5 with me that night for a donation to the church. We didn’t have much money, and I felt responsible for spending our limited resources on something more damaging than uplifting. Looking back at that memory today, what struck me the most about this evening was that I had a choice to leave. I could choose whether I joined this religion and ultimately chose a spiritual path more aligned with my perceptions of the world. Sadly, that is a right afforded to everyone.

As someone who would have considered themselves well versed in history until recently, I found it hard to fathom as an independent person, and more aptly as an independent woman, having religious beliefs enforced upon me, especially ones that don’t allow women to speak within the church.

 
I quickly draw parallels between religious freedom and my perception of God. I can believe in a loving God that is accepting and open to different viewpoints about religion. I can practice a spiritual path without subjecting myself to strict religious doctrine that negates my authority on how I practice spirituality.

So many wars have been fought in the name of God, and millions of people have been killed for refusing to convert to Christianity. Thousands of women were burned alive and accused of practicing witchcraft. Countless people, including men, women, and children, are protesting a brutal regime in Iran. That is hellbent on controlling women based on interpretations of religious beliefs and the subjection of women. Closer to home, I think about the overwhelming, horrific, and unfathomable abuses and murders against countless children within my own country—within my province, which was perpetrated against the most innocent and was state-sanctioned by the government of Canada and the Catholic church itself through the guise of the residential school system.

It’s difficult for me to think about the fact that I was fortunate enough to have the choice to leave that classroom after feeling uncomfortable when this situation took place before the last residential school permanently closed its doors in this country. I was privileged enough to learn from animals and read books written by Indigenous authors about the cultural significance of animals and their teachings when people and children who are part of that culture were robbed of that same opportunity. Although I am fortunate enough to connect to these culturally significant beliefs, it is still up to me to be mindful of cultural appreciation versus cultural appropriation and give thanks for having access to that knowledge.

The irony of that fact is not lost on me and leaves me with immense guilt. I was given access to knowledge that the people connected to that culture were robbed of. I haven’t fully reconciled how to deal with those emotions other than by expressing immense gratitude for having access to that knowledge so early on.

It was my spiritual foundation and continues to be in so many ways. I hold such high regard for those teachings because I still utilize them. I feel a deep affinity for all animals and believe they are imperative to life on Earth and should be respected. They teach us so many lessons, and the impact of those teachings is not lost on me, but I’m also fully aware of where that knowledge came from and how criminalized the people of that culture and faith were for practicing those beliefs. I’m unsure how to reconcile that, but I feel immense gratitude and appreciate how that has shaped me.

There is so much value in being mindful of how we learn about cultures that differ from our own. When it comes to the food we eat and the items we wear. I think it’s imperative to research and understand where those beliefs come from and how sacred those traditions are.

That’s true for all spiritual faiths and traditions, and why when we travel to another country, it’s essential to know what customs might offend, since we are partaking part in their belief system, and not the other way around, and my views have developed and evolved over the years. I can see it from a different perspective as an adult versus when I was a child.

I am so grateful that many Indigenous artists and authors are showcasing their culture in beautiful and relevant ways because many voices have been silenced for so long. Not only is representation important for people within that culture, to see their stories being told through the voices of others and to see themselves reflected in art and music, but it is just as important on a human level to see all sorts of people, having all kinds of different experiences. We all have so much to gain from valuing different viewpoints and perspectives. I feel that an excellent place to start is appreciating that spirituality is available to everyone and can be expressed in many beautiful and unique ways other than just within the confines of a Christian Church. 

Chapter Four: “Ghosts” and Spirits

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From as far back as I can remember, spirituality and spiritual encounters have always been a part of my life, and one of my earliest memories is routinely waking up in the middle of the night and asking my mom to turn off the television in my room. I saw illuminated images as if projected on my wall, and she informed me that was impossible because there was no TV in my room, and she would ask me to describe what I was seeing.

I would explain the images I would see and describe the people interacting with one another in my room. I always found it too bright to keep my eyes closed and ignore, and she would explain that she couldn’t turn the TV off and that I would have to learn to turn those images off in my mind.

I often saw cats that had passed away and even argued with one of my elementary school teachers about the colour of their fur because I had started to see their auras; they had already passed away and often had been struck by cars. I couldn’t tell the difference, and I didn’t realize that cats couldn’t be purple as I had seen so many that colour.

I was so accustomed to seeing the spirit world, which was so matter-of-fact. I never realized, which is a good thing, how unusual my experiences were growing up, but not being fully aware of how unique they might be. I would write in my diary about seeing an angel in my room, and then in the following sentence, I would complain about a friend I was fighting with. The spirit world was so commonplace that it never felt weird to me, which makes it weird considering how often these things happened.

I was fortunate to have a mother who didn’t quash my experiences. I often think about what would have happened if I had been born into a family of atheists and had these experiences. Not that there’s anything wrong with being an atheist, but what kind of psychiatric involvement might have occurred had I been born into another family? I wonder what my life would have looked like, but I believe we chose our families before incarnating into the physical world. We choose many of the experiences we face, but having a parent who nurtured that aspect of my development was extraordinarily helpful in becoming the person I am and being open to spiritual connection.

I remember there was one moment when I was a child sitting in the living room of a cottage, we lived in that my mom was renting at the time. The ocean was literally in my backyard, and we overlooked a cove. I was playing on the floor when I glanced up and saw a woman standing in the kitchen. I couldn’t see her face, but I drew a picture of what this woman looked like and showed it to my mom, and she said, “That looks like my mother; that’s a dress she would wear.” She told me my grandmother hated having her picture taken, so it made sense that I didn’t see her face.

At that time, I had never seen a photo of her wearing anything other than her wedding dress, so I thought the clothing didn’t seem accurate for the 1960’s. I was very young and was under the impression that people during that period wore clothing reminiscent of the 1800s. Still, when my mom said she commonly wore similar dresses, it felt like I met my grandmother at that moment. It didn’t scare me—it felt nice to meet her uniquely— in spirit form. She lost both of her parents at a very young age, and I never got to meet either one of them.

I had a few other spiritually significant experiences while I lived in this cottage, which I always found fascinating because we only lived there for eight months, but it was a nice place to live. I remember watching a pair of bald Eagles take their baby out onto the ice, being given live lobsters, and putting one back into the water in hopes it might make it.

We lived off a narrow dirt road, and next door to us were some cottages owned by the local nunnery where nuns would go and spend time during various parts of the year. I remember being alone in the woods near their property, and I would see earthbound spirits in the woods. And I would go back inside and ask my mom why a woman and child were standing amongst the trees staring at me.

Their clothing didn’t match the period we were living in, but they seemed real enough for me not to realize they weren’t alive. I remember them silently looking at me, and it scared my mom. She told me not to go near those people or talk to them—so I didn’t.

I also remember leaving home one day. We were driving to town, and as we made our way down the narrow road, I noticed a man walking towards us. He was dressed entirely in yellow fisherman gear, including a sou’wester-style hat. My mom was hugging the right side of the road, where he was walking, and I yelled at her to be careful—that she almost hit that guy. She asked me, “What guy?” and I said, “The fisherman who was dressed in yellow walking towards us,” she looked towards her rear-view mirror, and there was no one behind us, and it would have been impossible for her to miss the man that I saw walking towards our car.

I remember later in my childhood, I had a dream about my maternal grandparents and that they came to say goodbye to her siblings and herself. In my dream, my mom, aunt, and uncles were all children, and I watched their parents say their goodbyes. They explained how they had to leave, were so sorry, and wished they could stay but couldn’t.

Everyone was crying, and her parents told them they loved them very much but had to go. I remember waking up in the morning and describing the dream to my mom, surprised by her reaction. I was young when I had this dream, and immediately, my mom started crying and explained how sometimes we have dreams for other people. That there are messages that are meant to be relayed to others. She seemed very angry behind her tears, and I didn’t understand it then.

Looking at that memory years later and having since become more reconnected to my spiritual roots, it saddened me to think about my mom not having that sort of connection to her parents until that point. As a family, we often gravitated towards films about ghosts because that’s all that depicted what happens after we pass away. There weren’t a lot of TV shows either that focused on anything other than hauntings, and a lot of times, I think the media, television, or movies have a way of sensationalizing the spirit world or skewing things in a negative way that inherently impacts our views of the spirit world.

I often see articles online or Internet threads that talk about scary things that take place that people can’t explain. I read through them, and I can tell it’s just a family member trying to get a message to their loved one, but they don’t view it as a positive thing because they’re so used to seeing scary movies about negative themes.

We didn’t want to watch these movies because we loved being scared. It was because, on some level, we wanted to watch something that we could connect to. It was something that related to personal experiences we had in our lives, and these films felt like the only thing we could grasp that felt otherworldly or unexplainable. Still, unfortunately, these kinds of movies, as fun as they are, can sometimes impede our view of eternal life.

I find that it’s less common to find earthbound spirits roaming everywhere than it is to see loved ones in spirit attempting to give a message. Typically, our loved ones send many signs. Still, it’s common for people to have a dream, a synchronistic event, or something unusual take place and misinterpret the movement because they’re looking at it from the perspective that it’s something to fear. I think that’s part of why children are so open because they haven’t yet learned that the spirit world is something to be “feared, and once that fear is instilled, it’s hard to break away from it.

So, we begin to distrust what we experience, block it out, assume the worst, and try to separate ourselves from it until it no longer happens. We become less open and less receptive to receiving those messages because we put up walls or actively ask spirits to stop doing what they’re doing.

One of the incredible things about seeing psychics, mediums, or spirit talkers using their gifts and showcasing their abilities more openly to the world is that up until recently, these kinds of subjects were only referenced in horror films. We all have been impacted by loss, and for the most part, our deceased loved ones seek communication with us in the same ways we long for contact with them. 

It’s only unconditional love on the other side, and the less fear we have surrounding what lies ahead of us or what obstacles we need to overcome, the better we will feel. Suppose we try to infuse as much joy and love into everything we do and permit ourselves to be more excited by being fully engaged. In that case, we will have more peace and appreciation by actively choosing loving energy rather than feeling continually stuck or afraid of the process. The better we will be in all areas of our lives, and as accurate as this is for the spirit world, it’s equally valid for plunging both feet into the proverbial uncharted waters of our lives.

Part of our collective mission is to unlearn many things and question the nature of existence and how we see our reality. I think a lot of the time if we can get back to a place of childlike wonder and excitement and see things through the perspective of, “Why can’t it be done?” or “Why can’t it be me?” or “So what if it hasn’t been done before?” We can be more aligned, live our lives to the fullest, and be more connected to the spirit world.

So, if you have young children, and you know they are open to the spirit world, be open to their experiences, try to view the world through their eyes, and listen to them. When they see things and have unique experiences, you can see a whole other world through their eyes—things we can only begin to imagine. Ultimately, it’s about that reconnection to ourselves and that spiritual light. As we help ourselves heal what needs to be healed, we can do so much good in this world and rekindle our perception of the spirit world from a childlike perspective.

Chapter Three: Growing Up Poor

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I grew up on minimal means, and my mother returned to school later in life and utilized income assistance. I grew up not having much but appreciating everything I did have. We lived in a rented house outside of town, and my family and I became very sick one year before a realtor called to inform my mom that our landlord was trying to sell the house we were renting, and they determined that our well water was contaminated. We had been incredibly sick for several months and weren’t sure why, and our landlord had tested the water but did not disclose this information to us. So, we had to buy bottled water even when we couldn’t afford much else some days. It was a well that would often go dry, and one summer, we had to bathe at the nearby beach for a few weeks because we didn’t have running water for quite a while. One day, it began to rain torrentially and continued into the evening. And I remember standing under the gutters and having the water pour over me; it was one of the best feelings I couldn’t begin to describe. There’s something to be said about having struggles in life and being able to appreciate the good moments because of those struggles. I know that’s a feeling that most people likely haven’t experienced in this area of the world, so it was kind of an incredible event that I often reminisce about. One of my favourite stories growing up happened during Christmas time. My mom had $20 left to pay for our entire Christmas dinner, and she drove to town praying the whole way there that she could somehow make it work and afford to buy everything that would make dinner special, including a turkey. So, the entire drive to town, she asked God to help her find a cheap Turkey for Christmas, and lo and behold, when she got to the store, a Turkey was lying on top of other frozen turkeys in the refrigerator display case but had been priced improperly. It was listed as $1.35 rather than what it was supposed to be listed at, which was $13.5 She immediately assumed the university’s psychology department was experimenting on that store’s customers. She looked around to see if anyone was watching her before she grabbed the turkey from the case. She scouted out for the most inexperienced cashier working that night and immediately headed to a different location to buy the rest because she didn’t want to look suspicious, even though it was an error on their part.It became one of our favourite Christmas miracle stories because of how impactful that moment was for our family and our ability to trust the universe and that divine source of energy to manifest good things into our lives. I use it as a constant reminder to trust that the spirit world always has our back, even in times of great need. Around this time, my family was fortunate enough to live on a piece of property that grew a lot of fruit that we relied on. After my brother graduated high school, there was a six-month period when our financial situation became much worse. and we had very few provisions during that time and lived off the land. Luckily, our neighbour was a farmer and would sometimes leave a few squashes by our front door, and we had apple and plum trees in our backyard, and there were also lots of blackberries and raspberries. My mom made a lot of homemade bread, which tasted nothing like actual bread, but my brother and I still miss it sometimes and think about how good it was toasted while being eaten with a good breakfast. We also depended on potatoes in general, and I couldn’t eat them for a while because that’s all we ate.We would go to New Brunswick in the spring to pick fiddleheads because it was an accessible food source and something we could pick for ourselves. We would freeze them down and eat them throughout the year. They are found regionally and grow wild around water. It was a tradition that every May, we would either go to New Brunswick to pick them up or buy some while we were in the area. Part of growing up poor is minimizing how poor you look and act because you never want to show that you’re struggling in any capacity, especially as a child, and you’re already being bullied. You try to consciously not bring it up and act like it’s not a big deal that you didn’t get many birthday gifts or can’t afford certain activities when your friends can. I remember my brother was in his final year of high school, and one day, he openly admitted that our family was currently receiving welfare to survive. Someone in the classroom said he was being mean for making fun of poor people. He told her, “I’m not joking; I’m actually on welfare,” and she didn’t believe him.  Again, I faced that assumption when I attended high school four years later. I remember a new political party had recently taken office, and one of the platform promises was to allow students whose parents made less than $40,000 to have a reduction in tuition fees. I overheard a girl I graduated with criticizing that no one whose parents made below $40,000 per year would ever go on to university. My mom had since graduated and worked but only made around 30,000 a year. I did go on to graduate from university, but it just shows you don’t always know what’s going on in someone else’s home life, how much their parents make, and what kind of barrier poverty creates in this world—even subconsciously.I consider it a testament to my mother. She raised us in such a way that our income status was seemingly invisible to others. My brother and I both went on to post-secondary institutions, and my mother graduated in her 40s and was the first to do so in her family. She lost both her parents at a young age, and it is a testament to her strength and perseverance that she accomplished so much while raising two children by herself.There may have been moments when I feared having large amounts of money or was reluctant to hold on to it because I wasn’t used to it. I would think of billionaires who hoarded wealth and took advantage of others to line their pockets, and I ultimately judged people who made a lot because I wasn’t accustomed to it. When you talk to people who have had many opportunities and don’t factor in poverty, it’s misguided to assume it has no bearing on the additional hurdles one must overcome to make their way through this world. Instead of feeling impeded by the poverty I faced as a child, I focused on the benefits it afforded me. Other than my weird compulsion to buy excess groceries to compensate for going without early in my life, it helped build character within me, a sense of resilience, a deep trust in the Universe itself, and a sense of strength that I truly value. It likely impacted my view of the world and how I move through it, but it also made me see the importance of all human experience. I do not view someone who lives on the street as having less value than a CEO of a major corporation, and I would not treat either one any differently—it’s just not in me to do so or to see one person as more important than another. Fortunately, poverty created a great equalizer for me in how I treat others, helping me turn obstacles into great character-building opportunities. I think it’s sound wisdom to incorporate that into all aspects of life—where I will perpetually look for the silver lining in every situation. It resonates with my belief that we all come to this world to learn and experience things.Often, our challenges in life can bring about lasting rewards even in terms of personal growth or through enjoying the simple things in life, like being able to grow your food, appreciating water when you have none, or finding an incredible deal at the grocery store and saving Christmas as a result of it. Life is what you make it, and gratitude and authentic appreciation for what you have currently will always feel better 100% of the time than continually finding fault in what you do have.