“Ironically, when you come to terms with the notion that life’s goal is not happiness but experience and growth, happiness naturally follows. When you aren’t pursuing it as the end goal, it will come to you.” ~Unknown
I had a mere ten days to consolidate my life.
I was transitioning from Toronto to Florida and boldly opted to bring only what could fit in my SUV. Everything else would be donated, sold, or given away. Ten days. One vehicle. A fresh start.
It felt deliberate. Grounded. Like a decision made by someone who had “done the work.”
What I hadn’t anticipated was everything else disintegrating simultaneously.
In those ten days, I discovered I owed a significant amount in unforeseen car repairs just to buy out my lease to import my vehicle.
Then a dear friend reached out to express how hurt she was by my handling of a significant matter in her life. It blindsided me and affected me more than I anticipated.
Around that same time, I made the heart-wrenching choice to return my rescued dog to her foster parents after having her for three years.
I was also departing from the place where I had discovered profound solitude and stability—the place where I had evolved into the woman I had worked so diligently to become. And I was moving into a new residence, in a new country, with a new partner.
This was a heap of change compounded by a strict, self-imposed timeline. And despite all I had learned and practiced, I felt as if I was disintegrating.
I couldn’t fathom why.
Each morning, I engaged in all the activities I believed would help. I journaled. I meditated for longer periods. I incorporated more breathwork. I attended the gym. I reminded myself to remain grounded, present, and grateful.
But nothing seemed effective.
I felt anxious. I wanted to cry incessantly but stifled it. I was overwhelmed—and ashamed of how emotional I was. I kept thinking, I should be better at managing this.
That thought evolved into a different kind of pressure.
I had dedicated years to building tools for self-support—mindfulness, reflection, awareness. Yet here I was, spiraling amidst what should have been a conscious, aligned life transition.
The more I attempted to stabilize myself, the worse I felt.
One afternoon, my partner and I were in my storage unit, attempting to pack the last of my belongings. We were cramming boxes into confined spaces, including items that had once belonged to my dad, who had passed away years earlier—things I still wasn’t quite