A little over a week ago, I celebrated a small yet significant victory: I managed to break two eggs without getting any shell pieces in the batter. It’s been well over a month since I’d been able to do that. Even preparing meals that required chopping felt like a milestone, made possible only by relying on pre-cut vegetables. Navigating life with my dominant hand in a cast has been humbling. There are still so many things I can’t do efficiently or effectively.
This past week, my cast was removed, and the orthopedic specialist predicts no more than a 10-20% loss in mobility when I flex my wrist downward. Honestly, I can’t even imagine where I might need full flexibility—perhaps in the follow-through of a basketball shot? Then again, I couldn’t sink a basket to save my life before breaking my wrist.
Now, the real work begins. I’ll wear a removable splint nearly full-time for a few weeks, removing it only for rehabilitation exercises. Having never broken a bone before, I’m shocked at how my hand has essentially seized up after just 40 days. I expected far more range of motion and strength. It’s been 96 hours, and while I’ve seen only tiny improvements, I’m learning that progress requires patience.
The Arc of Attitude: Humour, Frustration, and Acceptance
Over the past six weeks, I’ve noticed a strange arc to my attitude. Some days, I found humor in my situation or challenged myself to creatively solve everyday problems. Other days, I got frustrated over the smallest things—or even felt a little down.
This experience also brought me to a sobering realization: I’m officially a senior. At 60, I can’t exactly call myself middle-aged anymore—unless I plan to live to 120! It’s not something I’ve given much thought to before, as I still feel capable of tackling just about anything.
But here I am, just living my life, and suddenly, I find myself in the “senior” category. How did that happen?!
Here’s the thing: while I could let this label weigh me down, I’ve decided not to. Age may define a chapter, but it doesn’t define the story. Whether you’re recovering from an injury, starting a new career, or simply learning something new, it’s never too late to adapt, grow, and move forward. I may be adjusting to a new normal, but I’m also discovering that every stage of life offers opportunities to build resilience, find humour in the challenges, and keep pushing boundaries.
Learning to Embrace Loss: A Path to Growth
We all experience loss throughout our lives. And I’m not just talking about youth or the gradual loss of mobility that can come with age. We lose loved ones—whether through drifting apart or through death, which is often considered one of the most stressful events a person can endure. We lose dreams we’ve let go of, relationships that end in breakups or divorce, jobs that slip away, and countless other things over time. These losses seem to multiply as we age, often accelerating as we approach retirement.
Yet when loss occurs, how often do we take the time to truly embrace what we feel? I’ll admit, I was pretty cranky for a couple of weeks—and I wasn’t very patient with myself, either. Many of us are conditioned to “power through,” keeping a stiff upper lip as if nothing happened. But I’ve learned that the only way to truly grow is to allow ourselves to feel those emotions, to embrace and release them. Locking them away only ensures they’ll come back to haunt us later, often when we least expect it. Sometimes, growth is messy—and that’s okay.
At first, I tried to keep moving at my usual pace, barreling through life as if nothing had changed. That approach didn’t last long. I quickly realized that pushing too hard in my compromised state could easily lead to a more serious injury. Slowing down wasn’t just an option; it was a necessity.
In my last blog post, I asked the question: How will you adjust when things don’t go as planned? Over the past few weeks, I’ve had to dig deep to answer that for myself. I lost patience with my slower pace and clumsier efforts, but the process forced me to reevaluate how I approach setbacks—and how I treat myself in the face of them.
Choosing Joy: Lessons from the Backyard
I had to remind myself, over and over, that I get to choose my response in every moment. During the first two weeks, everything felt like a challenge—but I more or less took it in stride. I was in problem-solving mode, focused on finding ways to adapt while minimizing the impact on my husband. My biggest concern? Keeping Moose, my 2.5-year-old Labrador Retriever, exercised enough to prevent him from getting bored and wreaking havoc.
Before my injury, every single day started with a 5-kilometer walk, as Moose and I worked off some of his boundless energy. But that routine came to a halt. My solution was to take him into the backyard each morning and throw the ball around. It wasn’t just exercise—it became a chance to work on his skills: sprinting, fetch, sit, stay, spin, and turn. Surprisingly, these 30-minute backyard sessions released as much energy for him as our hour-long walks did.
Of course, it wasn’t all smooth sailing. Moose shredded a Frisbee, dropped four balls into a “no man’s land” between neighboring properties, and lost a couple of tennis balls to the dog next door when they rolled under the fence. I’d be lying if I said there weren’t moments of frustration—let’s just say the air turned a bit colorful when things didn’t go as planned.
But mostly, I learned to appreciate the simple joy of watching a 70-pound, chocolate-brown blur of fur sprint across the yard, tail wagging and ears bouncing. His unfettered joy was contagious, and I made a conscious choice to savour those fleeting, carefree moments.
Choosing What Matters: Letting Go of the Rest
One of the unexpected benefits of having everything take twice as long as normal is that I was forced to realize I simply cannot “do” everything. Accepting this lesson didn’t come easily, but it made me more mindful of where I focus my time and energy.
Grounding myself gave me the space to reflect, and I soon realized I’d slipped back into the relentless busyness I thought I’d left behind—jumping from one task to the next, more focused on accomplishing things than truly living them. I’d become a “human doing” instead of a “human being” again. It was a wake-up call that reminded me of a simpler, more intentional mindset I embraced during my motorcycle travels across Canada six years ago. Back then, every day unfolded moment by moment, and I trusted that I was in exactly the right place at the right time.
This reflection also led me to acknowledge a deeper truth: even some of the things I truly enjoy will inevitably fall by the wayside as life evolves. And that’s okay. It’s okay to say no. It’s okay to create space for what truly matters.
In a few months, I’ll be retiring for the second time—this time from a job I genuinely love. However, the role deserves more focus than I’m prepared to give going forward. I’ll continue coaching clients on navigating retirement, but I’ll also dedicate more time to the hobbies and people who bring me joy.
So many of my clients wrestle with this same challenge. They feel tied down by “shoulds” and “have-tos” that they’ve come to see as non-negotiable. But the truth is, we do have choices. We teach others how to treat us by the boundaries we set and the priorities we uphold. It’s not wrong to be someone others rely on—but it’s also essential that the things we say “yes” to reflect what truly matters to us. Only you can decide what those things are.
I invite you to reflect on what truly brings you joy and meaning. Are there tasks, commitments, or routines in your life that no longer serve you? What would it look like to let some of those go? Share your thoughts or a small step you’re taking toward choosing what matters most—because every moment is an opportunity to rewrite your story.