Tag: life

life

Seeing Myself Through the Eyes of Others

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There’s a strange kind of heartbreak that comes with realizing how people perceive you—not as a whole person with needs and emotions, but as a piece in their puzzle, a resource when they need guidance, a steady presence when they need to unload their worries. But when the roles reverse, when I find myself needing, who is there?

I’ve always been the one looking out for others, showing up, listening, holding space. It’s instinctual—maybe even second nature—but lately, I’ve been asking myself: Who’s looking out for me?

When I was in the hospital, my phone stayed silent. No check-ins, no genuine concern—just polite gestures, performative sympathy. “Let me send you flowers,” they said. Flowers? What am I supposed to do with flowers? I needed support. I needed someone who I could call without feeling like I had to package my pain in a way that made them comfortable. I didn’t want to perform anymore.

And yet, I see my own part in this dynamic. I’ve created space for people to rely on me, and in doing so, I never made space for my own needs. People treat us based on the permissions we give them—how much we allow, how much we absorb, how much we excuse. And the truth is, I’ve allowed this.

Today, I felt like shaking my fists at the world, demanding better, demanding change. But as the hours passed, I turned that frustration inward. I saw my role in this. I saw how I’ve enabled these patterns. And now, as I move forward, I want to change them.

Not by cutting people out, not by shrinking away, but by teaching myself—and those around me—how to be there for me, too.

Because I deserve that.

— Sandy

life

See You Later, Marguerite

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The last time we saw each other in person was nine years ago. I remember the day vividly—you had made the decision to retire early, and while I was happy for you, the reality of your departure hit me hard. I cried on your last day, and you reassured me that we would see each other again, that we’d do lunch. But deep down, I think I knew there was a possibility that life would get in the way. I remember telling you it wouldn’t be the same, my voice small, I admitted, “I won’t get to see you every day.” And as life unfolded, our schedules never aligned—that last day truly became the last time I saw you.

I followed you on Facebook — stalked you like a stereotypical millennial, eager to keep up with your life. I saw the joy you found in spending time with your family—never once did you refer to your kids as “step-kids,” you loved them fully and completely. You adored babysitting your grandbabies, showering them with love and laughter. You were a force of warmth, kindness, and just the right amount of fiery spirit. Then, this past Sunday, I saw you had an Instagram account; you appeared as a friend recommendation, and I immediately sent you a request. What I didn’t know was that you had passed away the day before.

Losing you so soon feels deeply unfair. You were taken far too young, especially someone like you—so structured, so intentional in the way you lived, from your scheduled breaks for breakfast, lunch, and even brushing your teeth. You had created a rhythm in life that worked so beautifully for you, and now, far too early, that rhythm has come to an end.

I carry so many cherished memories of you, and now, losing you makes me reflect on my own priorities. You were not only successful in your career but also in life itself. Everyone remembers your kindness, but more importantly, you knew how to strike the perfect balance between work and home. You switched off when it mattered, poured yourself into your passions, found joy in your bowling league, and honed your golf game with dedication. I will forever hold onto the image of you on the golf course, lying on the greens near the hole, celebrating your first-ever hole-in-one—that moment, that joy, will always be etched in my heart.

These last few months couldn’t have been easy for you. I pray that you’re at peace now. Here’s to many more hole-in-ones in the stars. You are deeply loved. Thank you for all of the lessons. You will never be forgotten.

Love,
Sandy.

life

Emotionally Unavailable

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Growing up, I admired the adults in my life and looked up to them. I thought they were amazing and they were. But as I got older and gained more life experience, I realized that my rose-coloured lenses were fogging my vision.

As an adult, I see many adults coping and healing from their childhood traumas. Realizing that life was not as wonderful as they thought. Learning that those who they believed were guarding them were just trying to get by. Get by to pay their bills, meet the expectations of others and provide for their children. As a child of immigrants, I witnessed how hard my parents worked and they did work hard. But in the process of surviving, my siblings and I had to fend for ourselves. Don’t get me wrong, we always had a parent around, they were always there physically. But were they emotionally present? I think they did their best, and I don’t want to take away their effort, but they were not emotionally there to support us. My siblings and I had to ‘figure it out’. Maybe that’s why all 4 of us siblings are A type personalities. We know how to survive. It was a skill we learned from years of picking ourselves up.

As I write this, I can’t help but reflect on my dad’s childhood. Losing his own father at 17 and having to step up with his brother to help his family. Being forced to grow up too soon, only to be later judged by ungrateful family members who will never fully appreciate what it means to be alone in a country to shut down a business your own father built from scratch and move your family to another country for a better life. I can’t imagine the emotional impact that it would have on a person, and the lasting trauma that it would cause. How does one survive that? By putting one foot in front of the other. That’s how.

But that experience would change you.

I grew up with parents who were often sick. My father more than my mother. It was hard to see. It was hard to live through seeing your father too ill to get out of bed. I still remember the days when I only saw him when he came to the dinner table and then he struggled to walk back to his room. The smell of the Chinese medicines that he cooked on the stove. He had been told that he had a short time to live. But he fought through so that his older children would not have to face the same challenges he did, to support ungrateful younger siblings. And he survived. He made it.  

As an adult, and a parent to young children, I now realize the strength you need to survive. Even with good jobs that pay well, you still have to fight every day. Fight for yourself and do your best. But I need to do better. Growing up, I did not have the luck of having parents who were emotionally available. And I need to learn how to be emotionally available. I admit that this is my biggest weakness. I have done a lot of work on myself in my adult years to grow, and I keep working. But I am not where I should be. This morning, I screamed at my son because he did not want to get ready for school. He wanted me to change his clothes. And I got so frustrated. I was angry that he did not take the initiative to change his own clothes. He can do it. He started crying and I left him in his room to cry. I came back 15 minutes later and he was still sitting on the floor, in his PJ’s. I was so angry. I gave up and changed his clothes for him, but I was so angry. I kept saying ‘do you know how much I have to do every morning to get you to school? Don’t you understand how much work I have?’ I was venting my frustrations on him. I was expecting him to take care of himself, so I could take care of myself. But I’m the parent. Adult me is the result of someone who has had to ‘figure everything out herself’, and I don’t want that for my kids. I want them to know that I am there for them whenever they need. I need to change. I have to grow for them and become more emotionally available. I have felt terrible all day. Because it’s not my son’s responsibility to cater to my feelings and needs. It’s my responsibility to help him. So, after he went to school, I went to his room, and I installed a clothing hook. He can pick what he wants to wear the night before and get it ready. And in the morning, he can put on the clothes that he picked without needing me to pick them for him. And he doesn’t have to deal with my emotions. That’s my job. And I am going to give him the tools to help him be the best version of himself.

I don’t want to let him down by constantly having him manage ‘mumma in survival mode’.   I understand that changing habits and patterns is not easy. A lot of work is needed to heal from childhood wounds and to become more aware of how my words and actions are impacting my children. Listening more and yelling less is a goal to strive for.

I am counting down the hours till he comes home from school so that I can apologize to him. Because I have to do better.

— xoxo Sandy

life

Expectations

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As I interact with and observe people, I notice how many people have a selfish attitude. It makes me sad to see that people will do anything to get what they want, even if it means hurting others. And I often ask myself why? Why do they behave like this? Does it make them happy?

I know that people are imperfect, including me. But why do people constantly prioritize their own needs over the people they care about? Is that the key to happiness?

Every religion teaches some form of ‘love your neighbor’ or ‘be generous to your family’. I think these are the foundations of happiness. But as someone who struggles with depression, maybe I am wrong? If I deliberately do something that I know will harm someone, it affects me. It bothers me until I fix it. So how do people cope with choices that they know will hurt another person? How do they live with it? That is a sincere question that I have.

I want to grow, and I think this is an area of growth.

–xoxo Sandy

life

January 9th

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Some people claim that time heals all wounds, but I find this statement completely false. First of all, who are these people and what authority do they have to make such a sweeping claim? Second of all, it’s not time that heals wounds, but rather, actively working on healing yourself.

Grade 7, January 9th has forever been etched in my mind. It changed me as a person. Toronto had a massive snowstorm, and my friend, who I have cherished memories of, decided to cut the phone cords in his home and end his life. His funeral was the first one I ever attended, and until recently, I would wonder if there was anything more I could have done to help him. But the truth is, to embrace life also means to accept death. Even though he was very young, he made a choice. A choice that affected the lives of those who loved him forever.

Soon after his death, there were rumors that he was gay and he was harassed for it. I don’t know if there was any truth to the rumors, and frankly, it doesn’t matter. He was a kind person, and the world lost some of its magic. There was a hill that we used to play on often, and I still pass that hill and smile. He made my childhood a little brighter, and I’m grateful for that.

As I sit here on January 9th, more than 27 years later, Toronto is having another snowstorm, and I’m reminded of that day in grade 9. Hearing the news of his parents running to a neighbor to ask them to call an ambulance. The memories come back, and I’m finally making the decision to work through my unresolved feelings. His death changed me as a person. I’m known to be a very outspoken person, but if you pay attention to what I say, I will never deliberately say something to hurt anyone. My friend’s death taught me that the saying ‘sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me’ is nothing but nonsense. Words matter. They have weight. They can push someone over the edge.

His death impacted me so much that for the last 3 years, I have been doing my job and a colleague’s job to ‘cover for them’. Even though it has been at my own expense. My colleague lost both of her parents at the same time and spiraled down. I felt that it was my duty to ‘help her’ while she got back to being herself. But she hasn’t been herself since. At what point do I recognize that her experience has changed her as a person forever? And at what point do I say, ‘it’s not my duty to heal her and take a step back for my own mental health’. Last year, I made the decision to talk to her manager and my own manager, because it was becoming too much for me. It wasn’t only the work that was dragging me down, it was her hostility and her rudeness. Sometimes she sounded drunk on the phone, other times she sounded high. I would repeatedly say ‘go get help!’, and ‘focus on your job! this is your livelihood, you have kids!’ But it felt like everything I said fell on deaf ears.

My own trauma of my friend’s passing makes it hard for me to give up on my colleague. I can’t walk away. I know who she was before her life was turned upside down. And while I know it’s not my ‘duty’, I can’t leave her behind. My peers will say ‘it’s not your job to fix this’, and I know it’s not. But I also understand her worth, even if she can’t see it right now. I’m starting to understand that it’s her job to fight for the life that she wants. She is an adult, and I can’t make her get help that she doesn’t want. Her blessing through this experience is to understand that yesterday is gone, hold on to the memories and lessons, and find a way forward in her own power.

And my lesson is to understand that it’s my responsibility to focus on the happy and wonderful things happening in my life. To be easier on myself and understand that how other people live their lives is not my responsibility. I understand that my friend chose to end his life, I did not choose that for him, nor can I alter the past. But just because I couldn’t save him in the past, doesn’t mean it’s my responsibility to save someone in my present. They have to save themselves. They have to fight for themselves. I have been urging her to get professional help for 3 years. I have done my part; the actions are now up to her. She has to make the decision to fight for herself, and I have to find peace with that. This is something that I’m struggling with, but I’m trying.

— xoxo Sandy

canada · life · quote · quotes · selfhelp

Thank You 2016!

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Two Thousand And Sixteen. The words seem so insignificant on paper, yet as I say the numbers out loud, I can feel a paper weight being dropped on my heart. How do I begin to describe the year I’ve hard? As I try to find the right words, I feel confined to the words of the Oxford dictionary. Why can’t language be like light? Infinite.

Two Thousand And Sixteen. Thank you. As I sit here trying to grasp for words that would do my year justice, I feel overwhelmed with emotions of gratitude. This year was tough. Filled with loss and great sadness, but for some reason my mind floats to the happy memories.

This past year, we lost a monarch in my husband’s family. We spent many months going back and forth between work, home and the hospital. While the loss was significant, my memories constantly float to hospital memories that make me smile. I will always remember the look on her face when I entered her hospital room on a day that I said I was busy at work and wouldn’t be able to make it. She was so happy, and for anyone that knew her, she didn’t show much emotion.

My maternal grandmother was diagnosed with breast cancer. Fortunately, the doctors caught the cancer in time and were able to remove it. She underwent radiation treatment shortly after that. Although she gets tired easily and is often in pain, she is still as feisty as ever. You think I have a sharp tongue, wait till you meet my grandmother.

My lung condition also relapsed. This news was a bit tough for me to digest. I had worked so hard to try to prevent this from happening, but it just goes to show, you can’t control everything in your life. Sometimes you just have to accept the cards that you are dealt, even if they are terrible. I remember laying in the emergency room bed, trying not to cry, thinking “please don’t be a relapse”. My condition is rare and easy to misdiagnose. Prior to my diagnosis, I spent many months in and out of hospital with doctors telling me I was having muscle spasms. So when the doctor came to my bed and told me I was good to go home because I was having a muscle spasm I almost started laughing. Muscle Spasm? I asked to see my blood work and x-rays.

The pulmonologist, Dr. Wayneinder Anand, who originally diagnosed me with this rare disease and was one of my biggest blessings of 2015 also ended up being one of my biggest blessings of 2016. Prior to releasing me from his care, he taught me how to read my blood work and x-rays to identify if I was relapsing. So when I saw the results, I knew what was happening. Had he not taken the time to teach me how to read my reports, I would have continued to suffocate and not understood what was happening. My health care would have been in the hands of others. Dr. Wayneinder Anand gave me the knowledge to identify when I was having an issue, and the steps I needed to take to self-stabilize, until I was in the care of another pulmonologist.

When I reflect on Two Thousand and Sixteen I can’t help but smile. This year was filled with trials and errors, laughter, sadness and happiness, but it made me stronger. This year taught me how to be grateful for the life I have. It taught me to make the conscious decision to be optimistic and happy every day. Because when you change your perspective, you change your life.

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canada · family · inspire · inspired · life · quote · selfhelp · Uncategorized

Disconnected

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Recently, I’ve found it difficult to connect with people on a human level. I can’t remember the last time I had a genuinely honest conversation with someone, and i’m growing tired of the superficial conversations I have with people. You know, the ones where we instinctively start to discuss whose life is more difficult. It’s like we’re in a rat race, constantly trying to outdo the next person. When the truth is, we are all just going through the motions of life and the growing pains that come along with it.

If I am being completely honest, I have a great life. I work on my flaws and improve on my weaknesses. I work really hard on growing myself into the person I want to be. However, I feel ashamed to let the world know how happy I am. Why? Because people become jealous and envious that you seem so “put together”. They don’t see the behind the scenes hard work I’ve put into the person I am evolving into. They only find reason to be resentful.

I have a very positive outlook on my life. I focus on the positives, and understand that the problem areas can be worked on. I know that nothing in life is constant and I am okay with that. But I don’t spend each day feeling angry about the pain points in my life. I accept them and roll with the punches, and that works for me. It allows me to stay focused and evolve into the person I want to become.

However, I constantly live in a fear that if I let people know how happy I am that they will find me un-relatable. When the truth is, the only difference between us is the outlook we have on life. I don’t see the grey areas in my life as problems. I see them as opportunities to grow. My approach to the grey areas is to accept them and look for a solution, if there isn’t one, I will sit on the problem until I can find one. When I advise people on how to solve problems in their lives, they find my approach too harsh, or they will give me a list of 100 reasons why the solution won’t work. They make the choice to stay pessimistic, and I can feel myself being sucked into the vacuum that is their negativity. And my outlook on life isn’t negative, so I can’t relate. And in turn there is a disconnect between my world and me.

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Uncategorized

Word Vomit

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My dad always told me to have value in the things I say. He said I should think about my vocabulary before vocalizing my thoughts, and to understand that once I spoke, I would lose ownership of those words. They would fall prey to the interpretation of the listener.

However I suffer form a serious case of word vomit. I often speak first and think later. If I am being completely honest, sometimes I find myself annoying and feel like saying, “just shut up”, but instead I just keep rambling like the court jester. While I speak from the heart, and constantly try to help those around me, I sometimes I think I need to sit back and let people make their own decisions free from my opinions.

The problem with that is, I often find myself giving an opinion before I can catch myself. While my opinion may be honest, I am too straight forward, and it causes people to feel defensive when they don’t need to be.

I recently told someone that I thought they have a drinking problem. For the sake of this blog I will refer to this person as Emma. I wasn’t very tactful in my approach. Being the straight forward person that I am, I spoke bluntly from a place of concern, causing this person to get defensive. While I think I was wrong in how I approached the subject, I have serious concerns about this persons health, and now realize that she has people in her life that enable this behaviour. She doesn’t have many people in her corner, trying to encourage her to sort out her issue. Instead, she’s surrounded by people who encourage and promote the drinking. What Emma doesn’t realize is that if she has serious health issues in the future, due to the alcohol abuse, these people who are enabling her won’t be there to pick up the pieces. Those close to her will be.

Its very frustrating for me to sit and just watch her indulge in behaviours that aren’t helping her build a healthy life for herself. Instead, she is holding on to a lifestyle that she should have outgrown. But thats just my judgemental opinion. Perhaps I am being judgemental, or maybe I just see a better future for her than she envisions. Either way, I regret my approach to the topic, because it is a serious topic.

I wish I had better control over my words. However, they often come out before I can stop them, and while I come from a good place. I realize that my opinions aren’t always needed. In the case with Emma, maybe she needed to hear my opinion, or maybe it just pushed her further, i’m not really sure. Either way, I think I could have approached the subject matter in a more compassionate way. After all, if someone is drinking to suppress emotions, bluntly telling them they have a drinking problem isn’t going to help them.

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Quicksand

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Sometimes I feel as though I am stuck in quick sand in the middle of a cross road. Afraid to move, for fear of sinking in deeper, I slowly look around me to see which road I want to travel.  I am faced with the decision of who I want to be as a person, and the type of life I want to create for myself.

To my left, I see a life focused on my career. This is a road that I am familiar with. A workaholic by nature, I love to work and reap the rewards of my hard work. However, I question whether this road is still for me. Do I want to make my work my life? Yes it will bring me all of the luxuries in life, but do I want to be defined by what I have, instead of who I am?

To my right, I see a simple life with a white picket fence. I am outside watering the grass and feel a sense of inner peace and calm. My feelings of aggression, motivation and determination have disappeared and I am simply content with being in my own skin. I don’t have a very big house, but I feel wealthy.

And then there is the road ahead of me. I can’t make out what is in front of me, it’s shielded by fog. But, for some reason I feel excited by it. Maybe it’s the feeling of not knowing what’s there that makes me want to impulsively jump out of the quick sand and sprint in its direction. However, I am reluctant to act on my impulses. If I move too quickly, I will sink into the sand, and the roads ahead of me will disappear.

So as I slowly try to maneuver myself out of the sand, I patiently recite the wise words my uncle once told me.

“Sandy, one thing you need to remember about your career is, you
can achieve anything you want to, but you need to look at the costs
associated with the decisions you make. I am very successful in my
career, but I had to sacrifice time with my children. I would come home
from work and open up my computer. I would take a break to eat dinner,
and then I would get back to work. I had to sacrifice a lot. Now that I am
older, I maybe would have done things a bit differently”.

As I look at the roads that lay ahead of me, I question my choices and realize that the roads to my left and right are extreme examples of what is important to me. Perhaps the foggy road ahead of me is the road I’m meant to take. Where I learn to balance my work and family life, and create a legacy for myself. As I reach this realization, I can feel the sand loosen around my legs and slowly disappear.

I am free to walk the path I choose.
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