Welcome to my website!
All my life I wanted to be a memoir writer, living in my heart and visualized a published book sitting shoulder height in a book store. Instead, due to life circumstances and family pressure to live in my head, I undertook nursing studies and enjoyed a fulfilling career practicing in coronary and intensive care, emergency rooms, air ambulance, home and community care, government, and education. I moved around quite a bit pursuing new career options in several Canadian cities – a life long learner and keen on new exciting experiences.
I thoroughly enjoyed my nursing career and a couple of highlights include being the Chief Flight Nurse in northern Alberta, Canada, and teaching both undergraduate and graduate students in nursing and interdisciplinary studies both in person and online. Being around students and their energy and those “light bulb” moments are magical.
The dream of wanting to be a memoir writer made itself known regularly. Running a marathon and suddenly visualizing my book on display in a book store. Deep soul tugging and encouragement, “Undertake creative pursuits. Write your memoir. Learn to oil paint.” I heard my soul’s pleas but didn’t heed them instead undertaking years of academic writing and education.
Like for all of us life happens with lots of unexpected twists and turns. I met my second husband in 1999 and we had seven years together before the first symptoms began of what was eventually diagnosed as frontotemporal dementia with a behavioural variant – a rare and scary type of dementia. In 2004, we bought our little blue house with the idea of moving here after my husband retired which we did in 2009. By then my husband’s short term memory was severely compromised and he was exhibiting paranoia, delusions, hallucinations, and had a total personality change. Those all escalated and I was often afraid and my focus for years was trying to keep us both safe. That time of my life was a living hell especially since hardly anyone believed me as to what was going on, including health care professionals.
My husband was taken off island by police early 2012, and never returned home. I continued to be a strong advocate for him for the next four years as he was moved from facility to facility as staff was unable to handle his aggression. Between those facilities, several acute care hospital admissions were sprinkled in. Me and my husband’s son getting to know yet another team. Over and over. I was around dementia all my career and thought I knew something about it, however, until one lives it, we have no idea.
By the time my husband died in 2016, I had fully lost myself, and was a tattered remnant of the former me. Hardly recognizable even as I looked in the mirror. As a nurse, I knew I was in serious trouble and possibly heading to the common statistic of care-giver death. The key to my survival was to finally listen to pleas my soul had been offering for decades – return to the land, oil paint, write, take memoir writing courses, engage in a regular yoga and meditation practice, get critters, let go, simplify, grow food, visit the sea daily, journal write with others, surrender with compassion, and surround myself with like minded people.
I love living on this little island as the connection with nature and strong sense of community are rich. One of the first things I did after my husband died was get chickens and am the proud flock tender to seven amazing girls who are a delight to garden with. I always wanted to be a farmer and this little one-half acre property allows me lots of room for growing food, flowers, herbs, as well as, sharing the land with creatures such as deer, otters, racoons, an abundance of local and migratory birds (sea and land). I consider my land and little blue house our own tiny homestead. I am a pet parent to two cats, Benjamin and Katie, an inquisitive and smart young Sheltie, Alira, and seven chickens, Peony, Marigold, Lady Violet, Splash, Lavender, Periwinkle, and Boots, They all sport lovely poufy lacy bums.
