Tag: writing

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

Fuck You Jane!

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Today was very tiring for me mentally. I have been working on applying the skills my son showed me with my coworker, and it is hard. I talk about her so much that I should give her a name. How about Jane?

Jane is still scheduling customer meetings, talking about topics that are not her expertise (they are actually mine), and then complicating my work. I have aggressive goals that I need to achieve, and it’s difficult to do this when I have someone meddling with how I do my work. Her actions directly affect my job performance.

I have lost count of how often I have to escalate to a manager, but for once, I didn’t hesitate to do so this time. I escalated. Or rather, I wrote an email and included her manager in it.

I am beyond frustrated. I keep hearing how she has surpassed her sales targets, and I want to scream ‘of course!’. All of the sellers supporting this territory have goals to meet, and we are all working overtime to compensate for her lack of skills and competence in her role. But go ahead, praise her and reward her.

It makes me wonder why I bother to work so hard. I blame my parents. I wish I could be lazy and say ‘I don’t care’. But that’s not me. I only know how to work hard and challenge myself and it is intolerable that I have to work twice as hard to fix the ‘work’ (if you can call it that), and then align the deals so that we can meet the targets. It would be one thing if I just had to do my job, but it’s another when I have to cover for her.

I have enough to deal with at home, taking care of my family. I don’t have the stamina to constantly adjust the deals that Jane has messed up. Working with her makes me so anxious. I have been trying to avoid a panic attack all evening. My management keeps turning a blind eye to the problems my colleagues and I face with Jane, and I know that tomorrow will be just more of the same crap!

My husband tells me not to worry because I can’t control what’s happening, I can only control myself – he can see the stress and anxiety on my face. He says ‘you talk about Jane every night’, and its true, I do. My coworker says ‘don’t let her ruin your spirit’, but I can’t help it. It has been years of this nonsense. Years of escalating to management and nothing changes. It’s sad to say it, but I feel like Jane has crushed my soul. And yes I know someone can only crush you if you let them. But years of dealing with this has worn me out. I don’t know how much more I can handle. When we were assigned to the same territory at the start of the year, I told my manager that I feared this would end up with HR. I think we are at that point. I can’t continue to work in this toxic work setting.

I am not the only one who feels this way, I have shed tears, real tears, with some of my coworkers a few times because we are constantly having to make up for Jane’s shortcomings. I am just so exhausted and I feel powerless to change anything.

— xoxo Sandy

life

Unkind Behaviour

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The best part of having children is that they teach us so much. Kids have this wonderful ability to set boundaries for how people interact with them, and as adults, I think it’s important for us to support this skill set. Not change them to become people who always agree or please others.

The other day, like any other day, I was picking up my son from school and inquiring about his day. He had taken supplies to school that day for an in-class project, and I wanted to learn more about it. I had given him extra supplies to share with his classmates, and I saw that he returned a lot of them. He told me that another student in his class had asked to use some of his supplies, and he refused. I was a bit disappointed with my son after hearing this. But he added ‘why should I share with someone who was mean to me today? I’m not sharing’. I told him that he had more than enough and he could have shared. And my son just replied with a simple ‘no’.

I observed him in that moment and thought, you’re right! If someone is unkind to you, why do you have to show them compassion? They were unkind to you, why should you have to ignore their behaviour to assist them and give them what they ask for? I took that lesson and I tried to apply it to help me with the issue I talked about earlier in my blog about the difficult colleague. ‘Why am I making an effort to support and help someone who is determined to ruin their own life?’ I have tried to help, but if they can’t treat me with respect, why should I sympathize with them? They are grown adults, and their actions have negatively impacted me. Why do I then feel obligated to help them? They can learn to help themselves.

I am truly grateful for the lesson my son taught me in that moment because it helped change something inside me. A light blub turned on in my mind, and I could feel a shift. It helped me see the worth in myself and set a boundary for what I consider acceptable behaviours when people interact with me.

— xoxo Sandy