I grew up in New York and spent most of my adult life outside Washington, D.C. If you had asked me where I’d find the most opportunities, the most entertainment, and the fullest life, I would have pointed to those places without hesitation. But it turns out that small town life in Sweden offers an even bigger life than I ever expected.

When you have endless options, it’s easy to participate in nothing. When you have a stronger community, it’s easier to participate in life.

The first week after my arrival, my husband and I went to a hockey game. I’ve been to games in the U.S. before and the fans are great, but this was insanity on ice. One section of the arena is called North Power. Here the super fans sit, leading the entire arena in celebration songs, individual dances depending on what player scores, and encouraging playful taunts for the opposing team. This was a community of fans dancing and singing, hugging and yelling, all as one. It was incredible. Skellefteå AIK also won the gold for the entire season so the experience was one to remember.

On the weekend we went to a nerd fest. This was right up my alley. There were booths with fantasy genre games, jewelry and shirts. A popular Star Wars cosplay group called the Swedish Garrison roamed the halls and had a large area where you could interact and take pictures. Now wait, you’re going to say. We have Comic Con! It’s tremendous! It’s popular in the United States! You would be correct, but this was in my backyard. I could just walk into town. The event was small enough to feel accessible to anyone who wanted to participate, without the crowds, competition for tickets, or high costs that often come with larger conventions. I’ve never been to Comic Con, and the event in Skellefteå was rough around the edges, but there was a ton of happiness for all. 

What do you do when you live near so many beautiful lakes and rivers? You walk. Breathe. You choose to commute on foot or bicycle rather than car. People in Northern Sweden do belong to gyms, but many more incorporate exercise into their daily lives. I’ve found myself walking to the city center to shop or meet up with a friend for coffee because it includes an experience that is just for me while I get there. 

One goal that I have this year is to incorporate more outdoor activities into my life. It feels almost necessary in the winter if you want to stay happy and connected to the world around you. In the summer I will be walking, kayaking and meeting friends. In the winter I hope to learn how to cross-country ski. My Swedish friends groan when I say this because it is apparently very difficult to do, but I’d rather fall to the ground when on a pretty level surface than hurling myself down a mountain and failing to stop.

Two weeks ago, I attended a luncheon with a community of women. They’ve created a group called Women’s Welcome. You just show up. Can you imagine that? You just SHOW UP! Every woman is welcome each week to get together, talk and share lunch. This kind of community and effort to link people together is something I haven’t really experienced back on the east coast of the U.S.

My son Max attended Skelleftea Creative Connect, a two-day event in the area that he has been studying, namely computer science and game design. Skelleftea has a strong game design community and I loved that he got to freely check this out. 

Yesterday I returned from Stockholm where I attended Stockholm Writers Festival. There I networked with writers of all genres and gained new friends in the process. Signing up for this conference made me so anxious but I’m so glad I did!

All of these experiences are invitations to participate, connect, learn, grow, and belong.

Back in Washington, D.C., I had world-class museums, professional sports teams, concerts, conferences, and more opportunities than I could ever take advantage of. Yet somehow, I participated in less.

Here, in a small town in Northern Sweden, life feels bigger.

Not because there is more to do, but because it is easier to say yes.

I spent the last month in Sweden, not on vacation, but with my husband, who has taken a position back in his home country. I call this phase the bridge, the space between late career and retirement. This is ours to cross. Our new reality is made of these on-again, off-again stretches of separation. My heart now lives in two countries, split between the people I love most.

My husband is in Sweden, and our sons are in the United States. Our youngest is in college. The boys were supportive; after all, they’ve spent every summer in Sweden since they were born. To them, this change simply meant “being with Dad in our second home.”

At first, everything was fine. The stress melted away. I felt healthier, physically, mentally, and spiritually. But then my phone rang in the middle of the night. Chaos exploded through the quiet, and stress wormed its way right back into my chest. After things settled, I managed three days of rest before the shrill of the phone jolted me awake again. A different son this time, and a situation far more frightening and serious.

I wanted to swim across the Atlantic Ocean.

For ten days, I vacillated between being supportive from afar and booking a ticket home. Because a mother’s heart never shuts down.

I overthink, overanalyze, and obsess over the things I can’t control. My emotions go into overdrive, and I don’t know how to switch them off. My sons remind me they have each other, and I am grateful for that. Friends have supported me, and I’m grateful for them too. But all anyone can do is listen. I’m the one who answers the middle-of-the-night phone calls, who jumps out of bed to listen or advise.

It’s overwhelming because my love bursts out of my chest. I make myself sick with worry. My husband was calm throughout the entire two-week ordeal, which made me frustrated and, honestly, angry. I interpreted his steadiness as indifference. It seeped into my soul, leaving me sleepless and stretched thin. But this is how I’m wired.

And now, everything is okay again. The boys are silent…as they usually are. No news is good news.

Tomorrow, I head back to the States, and small cracks are forming in my heart once more. This time it’s the quiet ache of leaving my spouse behind.

Because a woman’s heart loves in every direction, and breaks in every direction too.

Personal growth rarely feels comfortable, but comfort rarely helps us grow.

Everywhere I look, people are changing in remarkable ways. It’s midlife. Friends are selling their homes and moving across the country. Others are retiring and finally exploring passions they once set aside. Some are beginning second careers, engaging in different industries or even starting their own consulting companies, reshifting the balance in their lives. 

Even online, I see it happening. On Substack, new writers are showing up with fresh ideas, hope and courage. To them, I will say: “dare.” You may succeed with your goals or you just may discover something beautiful about yourself. Don’t wait for perfect timing or permission. Dare to grow.

When you say yes to growth, you’re saying yes to life itself. Sell the house. Sign up for the class. Make new friends. If it scares you, try it. Let go of the version of yourself that no longer fits and step into one that enables you to live a full life.

There will always be excuses not to. The safer, the easier choice, is the choice to stand still. Unfortunately, there are many who choose the path of least resistance. Some of the unhappiest people I know have made it their life’s purpose to keep the status quo.

The truth is that you will never be ready so don’t wait until you are, because you might wait forever. A word of warning. You will encounter people who will try to dissuade you. Please remember that it’s not because you have a bad idea or that you’re doing something wrong. Most likely, it’s their own fear of change that is expressing itself.

So go ahead. Dare to grow. 

Because in the end, daring to grow is daring to live.

Grief is a Constant Companion

What do I know about grief? 

For one, I understand that none of us escapes this life without it. Grief is a part of the human condition, it is non-negotiable, inevitable. I’ve experienced basic grief in its more familiar forms: the loss of a family member, the pain of betrayal, the quiet end of a relationship. And while those moments hurt, I was fortunate to heal and move forward. Many of us carry these everyday losses as part of our story.

But then, there is the grief that is relentless. Grief that doesn’t pass but becomes a constant companion, woven into the fabric of everyday life. Some people carry that kind of loss with astonishing grace and strength, and their stories stay with us. 

A high school friend recently posted something that tugged at my heart and hasn’t let go. With her permission, I’m sharing her words here. Her journey with deep, life-altering grief is also a reflection of the deep love she continues to carry in her heart.  - Paige

Grief is Like Glitter

Grief is like glitter. You can throw a handful of glitter up in the air, but when you try to clean it up… you never get it all. Even long after the event, you will still find glitter tucked into corners… it will always be there. Somewhere. — by Kevin Pádraig.

The quote referenced in Paige’s was written by Keven Pádraig:

Love

Without love there would be no grief. But I do not believe anyone would choose to forgo love just to avoid the pain of losing it. Love is brave. It requires vulnerability. It asks us to risk and to open ourselves up and share the truest part of who we are. 

To shut ourselves off from love is to refuse to fully live.

Paige’s words remind me that love and grief are not opposites, but partners. The depth of her grief is a mirror of the depth of her love for Fred. And in sharing her story, she reminds the rest of us to hold tight to the people we love, to honor the moments that matter, and to let the noise of everyday distractions fall away.

She honors him every day by living a life that still sparkles with memory, even if it’s sometimes through tears. Her strength and honesty are reminders that our time here is previous. That love is the most enduring thing we leave behind, and perhaps the only thing that truly matters.

Grief, then, isn’t just the shadow of love. It is its witness. It’s echo. Its proof.

It tells us we were brave enough to love deeply and lucky enough to have someone worth grieving.

So take a moment to think about who or what matters most to you. What would you miss if it were suddenly gone? Who would leave fingerprints on your heart? Don’t wait for grief to teach you how to cherish something. Say the words. Make the call. Sit a little longer. Listen more closely. Love more openly. Because life is fragile, and love, for all its risks, is still the most beautiful thing we’re given.

Tomorrow is Friday, but it’s not just any Friday; it’s the start of our last weekend in this home.This is where we raised our three children, the center of our world for the last twenty-plus years.Now, it’s another family’s turn to make new memories in a place we’ve cherished.They’re in good hands.

The dogs barked at the window early this morning.With a cup of coffee, I walked over to see what…

So you’re thinking about selling your house in the next five years? There are plenty of tips for selling your home, but the most important one is this: start preparing now.

If you’ve lived in your family home for over a decade, chances are it’s become a bit of a storage unit. From garages to basements, closets to cabinets — stuff accumulates. When we realized we’d be selling our home within a…

How does a glass of water relate to trauma?

If I give you a glass of water and piss in it, would you be thankful?

What about if I give you a glass of water, piss in it and add sugar? Would you consider it a good glass of water?

No.

Because you can’t take the piss out of the water.

It’s the same thing for trauma. Many do not hold themselves accountable for the hurt they inflict. Instead, they…

I truly fear for the soul of our country. Politicians talk about bringing God back into our lives, yet their actions suggest the opposite. As I reflect on faith and politics, I see a troubling pattern; people are forgetting the most important commandment—to love thy neighbor.

This commandment does not say, “Love thy neighbor if they look like you.” It does not say, “Love thy neighbor only if…

My grandmother used to talk about something she called confirmation, and my mother did as well. It’s when God, the Universe, or maybe your inner voice tells you when you are on the right or wrong path. Skeptics may claim that it’s a coincidence, but I, for one, am a believer in listening to your inner voice.

When my parents moved us from New York to Maryland, our new home was off Westbury Lane.…

You are never prepared for the complex emotions and sadness you feel when selling your family home. Just when I think that I have reached the stage of acceptance, something happens and triggers a feeling of loss. Recently it was my son home from university who packed up his old room. He stored up his memories, cleaned out his closet, and realized that he may not be able to visit again before the…