Spring has given way to early summer, and there have been many changes in my little world. Soon we will be spending more time at our lake cottage, and for the first time in several years, our schedule will not revolve around my work commitments.
A few months ago, I made the difficult decision to leave my part-time position as a Recreation Facilitator at the personal care home and move into a casual role where I can pick up the occasional shift without being tied to a strict weekly schedule. The job has become more challenging as my arthritis progresses and as the workplace continues to evolve. I still love my coworkers and enjoy working with the residents, but both the activities and the needs of the residents are changing.
Right now, there is a talented and energetic recreation team in place, and I feel comfortable knowing that I am leaving the department in good hands. It feels like the right time for this transition.
This is a job that I have truly loved, and nothing about this decision was easy. But sometimes we simply know when the time is right.
I re-entered the workforce in 2014 after a devastating illness and health crisis. Recovering required years of hard work, determination, and patience. I then retrained in an entirely new field and slowly rebuilt a life that at one point I never thought I would have again.
There was a time when I believed I would never be able to work. Instead, I found myself in a role that I genuinely enjoyed and that gave me a sense of purpose. I am proud of what I accomplished. Even on the most difficult days, I went home knowing that I had made a difference in someone’s life.
Now I find myself searching for a new normal once again. Over the past few years, I set aside many of my own interests and activities in order to conserve my physical and mental energy for work. I was content with that choice, but now I find myself asking a familiar question: What comes next?
At the moment, I am tackling a major cleanout of old work and volunteer resources and supplies collected over many years. It is surprisingly emotional. Every box seems to hold memories, reminders of projects, people, and chapters of life that have now come to an end. It is difficult to accept that many of these materials will never be useful to me again.
There is a genuine sense of loss in that realization.
At the same time, I feel hopeful. I look forward to regaining strength, exploring new interests, and discovering opportunities that fit this next stage of life.
This summer feels like a different kind of season. Not a time for striving or proving myself, but one for restoring my energy, reconnecting with the things I love, and making room for whatever comes next. Every season has its purpose, and perhaps this one is simply asking me to slow down, pay attention, and rediscover joy.
Looking for joy has long been one of my personal compass points. Not the big, life-changing kind of joy, but the quiet kind found in sunsets, time with loved ones, a dog at your feet, meaningful work, and peaceful moments by the lake. As I begin this new season, I hope to follow that compass once again.
Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.”
— Ralph Waldo Emerson
