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Parenting and Family – Building a Strong Foundation for Your Modern Family Parenting in the modern world is one of life’s most rewarding yet challenging journeys. With busy schedules, evolving family dynamics, and the constant influence of technology, raising children today looks very different from past generations. Yet, at its core, parenting has always been about love, patience, and guiding children toward becoming confident, kind, and resilient individuals. Building a strong family foundation requires intentional effort, but the rewards—deep connection, lifelong trust, and shared joy—are immeasurable. Strengthening the Parent-Child Relationship The parent-child bond is the foundation of every family. A strong, healthy relationship between parents and children not only creates a nurturing home environment but also shapes a child’s emotional and social development. Children who feel safe, supported, and valued are more likely to grow into confident adults who can form positive relationships of their own. Strengthening this bond often comes down to the small, everyday actions—active listening, showing empathy, and spending quality time together. Whether it’s reading a bedtime story, cooking together, or simply asking about their day, these moments of connection build trust and reinforce the message: “You matter, and you are loved.” Parental Support and Guidance Effective parenting goes beyond providing for physical needs. Parental support means being emotionally available, offering encouragement, and guiding children through life’s challenges with patience and understanding. Creating a supportive relationship helps children feel comfortable sharing their struggles and triumphs, knowing they will be met with compassion rather than judgment. Family guidance also plays a key role in setting healthy boundaries and teaching values. Whether it’s modeling respect, fostering kindness, or encouraging responsibility, parents are their children’s first and most influential teachers. By prioritizing both discipline and empathy, parents can create a balanced environment where children learn accountability while still feeling loved unconditionally. Navigating Co-Parenting Dynamics For many modern families, co-parenting is an essential part of the parenting journey. Whether parents live together or apart, successful co-parenting depends on open communication, shared goals, and consistency. Developing a co-parenting plan can help establish routines, clarify responsibilities, and reduce misunderstandings. Some effective co-parenting tips include: Putting the child’s well-being first in every decision. Maintaining respectful communication, even when disagreements arise. Being consistent with rules, expectations, and routines across households. Encouraging the child’s relationship with both parents. When co-parenting is handled with cooperation and respect, children benefit from stability, security, and the assurance that they are loved by both parents. Embracing Unique Family Lifestyles Every family is different, and there is no one-size-fits-all formula for parenting. Some families thrive in multigenerational households, while others focus on smaller, nuclear structures. Some embrace traditional roles, while others redefine them in ways that suit their values and circumstances. Finding a parenting philosophy that aligns with your beliefs can make the journey smoother. For some, this might mean emphasizing positive discipline; for others, it may involve prioritizing free play, creativity, or independence. What matters most is that the family environment fosters love, safety, and growth. Family counseling or support resources can also provide helpful tools during difficult times. Professional guidance can offer strategies for improving communication, resolving conflicts, or managing transitions such as divorce, relocation, or blending families. Building a Healthy Family Environment A strong family is built on shared routines, respect, and intentional care for everyone’s well-being. By focusing on family wellness, parents can cultivate habits that benefit both children and adults. Some examples include: Eating meals together to strengthen connection. Encouraging physical activity and outdoor play. Practicing gratitude and mindfulness as a family. Setting aside technology-free time for bonding. These healthy habits not only improve overall well-being but also create lasting memories that children carry into adulthood. Final Thoughts Parenting and family life will always come with challenges, but within those challenges lie opportunities for growth, connection, and joy. By strengthening the parent-child relationship, practicing supportive parenting, and embracing the uniqueness of your family, you create a home filled with love and resilience. Remember, perfection is not the goal—progress and connection are. What truly matters is the love, time, and effort invested in building a nurturing environment where children can thrive. At the heart of it all, family is about creating a foundation of trust, respect, and unconditional love—a foundation that lasts for generations.
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Couples Counselling – Strengthening Relationships Through Guidance Introduction Every relationship faces challenges. Even the strongest couples sometimes struggle with communication, trust, or changing life circumstances. Couples counselling offers a safe and supportive space for partners to address these difficulties together. Far from being a last resort, it can serve as a proactive step toward building deeper understanding, healthier communication, and stronger bonds. What Is Couples Counselling? Couples counselling is a form of therapy designed to help partners resolve conflicts and improve their relationship. Guided by a trained therapist, couples learn to better understand each other’s perspectives, recognize patterns of behavior, and develop new skills for handling disagreements. Unlike casual conversations, counselling provides structure, neutrality, and professional insight that make it easier to work through sensitive issues. Common Reasons Couples Seek Counselling Every couple is different, but some of the most common reasons for seeking counselling include: Communication problems: Frequent arguments, misunderstandings, or lack of openness. Trust issues: Healing after betrayal, dishonesty, or secrecy. Life transitions: Adjusting to marriage, parenthood, relocation, or career changes. Intimacy concerns: Emotional or physical distance in the relationship. Financial stress: Disagreements about money and spending habits. Parenting conflicts: Differing approaches to raising children. Sometimes couples wait until problems feel overwhelming, but counselling can be equally effective as a preventive measure for maintaining closeness. How Couples Counselling Works In sessions, therapists often use techniques rooted in psychology and communication theory. Some common approaches include: Emotionally Focused Therapy (EFT): Helping couples identify emotional needs and build secure connections. Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy (CBT): Addressing negative thought patterns that fuel conflict. Gottman Method: Teaching practical tools for communication, conflict resolution, and building trust. Solution-Focused Therapy: Emphasizing strengths and goals instead of dwelling only on problems. Sessions may involve guided conversations, role-playing, or exercises to practice new skills at home. Benefits of Couples Counselling When approached with openness and effort, couples counselling can offer lasting benefits, such as: Improved communication and listening skills Greater empathy and understanding of each other’s needs More effective conflict resolution strategies Renewed intimacy and trust A shared sense of teamwork in facing challenges Even if not every problem is fully resolved, counselling often equips partners with tools to handle future issues more constructively. Misconceptions About Couples Counselling Many people hesitate to seek counselling because of misconceptions, such as: “It means we’re failing.” In reality, counselling is a sign of commitment, not weakness. “It’s only for couples on the verge of breaking up.” Many attend therapy to strengthen healthy relationships. “The therapist will take sides.” A professional counsellor remains neutral, supporting both partners equally. “It won’t work if we don’t agree on everything.” The goal is not perfection but better understanding and growth. Breaking these myths helps more couples view counselling as a positive and empowering step. When to Consider Counselling Couples might consider therapy if they feel stuck in repeating conflicts, struggle to express themselves safely, or sense distance in their bond. Early intervention often prevents small issues from becoming major problems. Some couples also use counselling before marriage (premarital counselling) to prepare for long-term partnership. Conclusion Couples counselling is not about fixing one partner or winning arguments—it’s about creating space where both voices can be heard and valued. With the guidance of a skilled therapist, couples can learn healthier ways to communicate, rebuild trust, and strengthen their connection. Far from being a last resort, counselling can be a powerful tool for growth and renewal, helping relationships not only survive but thrive.
Family Guide – Building Stronger Bonds at Home Introduction Family is the foundation of our lives, shaping our values, beliefs, and emotional well-being. A healthy family environment provides support, security, and love that carries through every stage of life. Yet, maintaining harmony in a family can be challenging with the demands of modern life. A family guide serves as a helpful resource, offering advice and strategies to strengthen relationships, resolve conflicts, and foster a nurturing home. The Importance of Family Connection Strong family bonds create a sense of belonging and stability. They allow children to grow up with confidence, knowing they are supported, and they give adults a network of trust and care. Families that spend quality time together—whether through shared meals, traditions, or daily conversations—tend to build resilience against life’s stresses. A family guide helps remind us of the importance of intentional connection and encourages families to prioritize time for each other. Communication as the Heart of Family Life Clear, respectful communication is the key to healthy family relationships. Without it, misunderstandings, resentment, and conflicts can grow. A family guide often emphasizes: Active listening: Paying attention without interrupting, showing empathy and patience. Honest expression: Sharing feelings in a calm and respectful manner. Conflict resolution: Learning to compromise and address disagreements constructively. By practicing these skills, families create an environment where each member feels valued and understood. Supporting Children’s Growth Children thrive in families that provide love, encouragement, and structure. A family guide highlights practical ways parents can support development: Establishing consistent routines for security. Encouraging curiosity and learning through play and exploration. Teaching values like kindness, responsibility, and respect. Balancing discipline with understanding, so rules feel fair and meaningful. When parents model positive behavior, children naturally adopt those habits and carry them into adulthood. Nurturing Adult Relationships in the Family Family well-being is not only about raising children—it also includes the health of adult relationships. Couples, siblings, and even extended family members play vital roles. Maintaining respect, showing appreciation, and supporting each other through challenges strengthens these bonds. Simple gestures, like expressing gratitude or setting aside time for one another, can go a long way in keeping relationships strong. Managing Challenges Together Every family encounters difficulties, whether financial struggles, health concerns, or generational differences. A family guide provides strategies to face these obstacles as a team: Problem-solving together: Including all voices in decisions, especially in big changes. Flexibility: Adapting to new circumstances with patience. Seeking outside help: Recognizing when professional support, such as counseling, may be needed. Working together through tough times not only solves problems but also builds resilience and unity. Creating Family Traditions Traditions bring joy, identity, and continuity to family life. They may include celebrating holidays, weekly dinners, or even small daily rituals like bedtime stories. These shared experiences provide comfort and create lasting memories. A family guide encourages families to build and cherish their own traditions, reinforcing bonds across generations. The Role of Self-Care in Families Healthy families recognize that caring for oneself is just as important as caring for others. Parents and caregivers who take time for rest, hobbies, and personal well-being are better able to support their loved ones. A family guide reminds us that balance is essential: strong families are built when individuals also nurture their own needs. Conclusion A family guide serves as a compass for navigating the joys and challenges of family life. By focusing on communication, support, shared traditions, and resilience, families can create a home environment where every member feels loved and valued. Strong families do not happen by chance—they are built through effort, understanding, and care. With guidance and commitment, families can grow together, providing a foundation of stability and joy that lasts a lifetime.
Patric Gagné doesn't need her kids to love her back. She's okay with that. Are we?Patric Gagné cuts her kids' peanut butter sandwiches into stars and whales. She makes Christmas magical even though she hates it. She shows up for bedtime stories, tantrums, and bullies.But here's the kicker—she does it without the emotional fuel most of us run on.She's a diagnosed sociopath. And she's one of the most fascinating, disarming, and deeply human mothers I've ever interviewed.This isn't a hot take on TikTok psychopathy or a glorified redemption arc. This is someone telling the truth about what it's like to parent without the typical emotional wiring—and still doing the damn thing.I first reached out to Patric because her memoir Sociopath hit me in the gut. Not because I saw a monster. But because I saw a parent navigating the same chaos I was—just using a different map.What followed was one of the most honest, unfiltered conversations I've ever had with anyone."I told my kids they don't have to love me."That line stopped me cold.I asked her if she meant it literally—like, had she actually said those words to her children?"Yes," she said without hesitation. "We've had long conversations about love, and I've told them it should always be additive. You should never feel obligated to love anyone. Even me."It’s not rejection. It’s radical self-honesty.And it challenges every sappy Mother’s Day card, every feel-good sitcom, and every sugarcoated idea we’ve been sold about what love between parent and child is supposed to look like.But that's the point. Gagné's entire existence challenges the mythology of motherhood—and not in a self-congratulatory way. She's not trying to shock. She's trying to survive. And raise decent humans in the process.The Baby Stage: "I wanted to kill myself."We talked about those early months of parenting—the dark, sleepless tunnel so many of us have barely crawled out of. I told her I was crying daily, unsure if I'd make it out in one piece.She didn't flinch."I wanted to kill myself," she admitted. "Not because of them—but because I thought something was wrong with me for not bonding."She had hoped, deep down, that motherhood would unlock something in her. Some primal instinct. Some feral maternal love.But it didn't.And that realization broke her heart in a way she couldn't quite describe.She wasn't angry at her children. She was angry at herself for believing she could be like everyone else."I was a fool to have thought I could have bonded that way," she said. "I should have been more realistic with myself and said, 'Hey, it's not going to be what it's like for everybody else, just like nothing in your life has been. It's going to be different. But you'll get there.'"The difference between her experience and mine? She had a partner she could tap out to."Unlike you, I had the benefit of a partner that I could say, 'Here you go. I got to tap out.'"Parenting Without the ScriptWe don't talk enough about what happens when your kids trigger parts of you that have never fully healed. Or never existed.Patric doesn't fake maternal warmth to keep up appearances with other parents. She fakes it when her kids need it from her."Not so much anymore—they're older," she said. "But when they were younger and needed comfort I couldn't access authentically, I gave them what they needed anyway."When I asked what it feels like to watch her kids sleep, she answered without hesitation:"Relief."Not joy. Not aching love. Relief. Because they're okay. Because she can finally rest.That answer gutted me. Not because it was cold—but because it was honest. And how many of us have felt that exact thing, but felt too guilty to say it out loud?But then she surprises you. When her older child witnessed a classmate being bullied for their sexual orientation and stood up for them, Patric had what she describes as one of her proudest moments."I told him, 'You have no idea how much that means to that kid. It really means the world to a kid who feels all alone to have another kid say, stop doing that. That's not kind. And you're being a dick.' I was really proud of him that he did that."Pride without ego. Protection without possession. It's parenting stripped of performance."I can't care about this."One of my favorite moments came when I asked her how she handles the petty day-to-day dramas that set most parents off."I just say, 'I can't care about this,'" she said, laughing. "It started as a joke with my friends, and now my kids even say it. Like, 'Mommy, you can't care about this.' And I'm like, 'I really can't. I love you. But I do not have the bandwidth for this Fortnite nonsense.'"It sounds harsh. But how many of us pretend to care about every scraped knee, every Pokémon card betrayal, every tantrum about the wrong color cup?Patric doesn't pretend. She just shows up with what she's got.For nightmares, she takes what she calls "the easy way out." Instead of processing the dream at 3 AM, she'll say, "That's so scary! Let's talk about it more in the morning," or "The best thing for a nightmare is to replace it with a fresh dream," and bring them into bed with her."In the middle of the night is not the time to process a nightmare," she says. "If they still want to talk about it in the morning, I'm like, 'You got 45 seconds.' Dreams can go and spin out, and I'm not trying to hear 90 minutes of this."Boundaries without guilt. Efficiency without cruelty. It's revolutionary, actually.The Santa Claus RebellionIf you want to understand how Patric's mind works, ask her about Santa Claus.From the time her children were conscious enough to have the conversation, she's been methodically dismantling the myth."I think Santa Claus is crazy. This whole thing about Santa Claus is insane to me," she told them.When they protested that Santa was real, she'd respond with pure logic: "What's the truth? That a man who wears the same clothes 365 days a year comes down a chimney and leaves presents for you because you're good? So he's breaking and entering?"Her children would push back, insisting Santa arrives by sleigh."I'm sorry, he comes on a what? A sleigh?"She'd continue: "Don't talk to strangers unless it's a man in a red suit promising gifts, in which case get into his lap and whisper your secrets? We're teaching kids about stranger danger, but over here it's okay?"But here's the thing—she still makes Christmas magical."I really work hard to make Christmas magical for them, because it's not their fault that I have a really hard time at Christmas. It's so hard every year. But I definitely do it for them."Her solution was brilliant: let her children convince her while maintaining her stance."They would come to me with the stories, and I would say, 'That's bonkers,' and then it's on them to convince me. All along I would say, 'This is insane,' but I will tell you there is something about Christmas that is magical. I don't know what it is, but I know it's not some random guy.""I never wanted to tell them I believed in something I didn't believe in," she explains. "I'd rather my kids know they can always count on me to deal with them honestly, even if it's not as magical as they would like it to be."Radical honesty wrapped in love. It shouldn't work. But it does.When Marriage Meets LogicLiving with someone who processes emotions so differently presents unique challenges. When her Italian husband gets angry and starts raising his voice, Patric's response is clinically precise."I say, 'You're increasing the volume of your voice, not the logic of your argument,'" she tells me. "I don't respond to screaming. I don't allow anyone to speak to me this way, and I wouldn't allow anyone to speak to you this way, so you need to take a walk because all I see is someone who is so wrapped up in an emotion tornado I can't reach the person on the inside."It should sound cold. Instead, it sounds like the sanest relationship advice I've ever heard.Her husband, she says, thrived in the baby stage but struggles more as the children get older and become more independent. She's the opposite."People like us tend to have a much easier time with the teenage years," she explains. "So many people who thrived in the baby stage are ready to pull their hair out in the teenage years. I feel that I'm more equipped to be a teen parent because I can have those conversations—about sex, about violence in schools. I'm very direct. I don't shy away from anything."The Discipline of LogicWhen it comes to discipline, Patric strips away the emotional drama that usually accompanies consequences."Actions have consequences. Period," she says. "It's like being an adult—if you want to test the boundaries and get caught, you're not going to be able to have access to the things you want. It's not 'How can you do this to me?' It's more just meeting them where they are."She often lets her children choose their own consequences."You did something, so what is the consequence? You tell me, because I can choose, but I think it's more effective if you choose your own consequence. They're usually pretty spot on."With her older child, she'll reframe situations by asking what advice he'd give his younger sibling in the same situation. "Is this what I should tell your younger sibling? Is this how you would handle this?"The answer, she says, is always the same: "No."It's accountability without shame. Consequences without manipulation. And it's working.The Boxes of MemoryIn her memoir, Patric writes about a box of stolen childhood trinkets—glasses, small objects that gave her some sense of feeling when everything else felt like nothing. I asked if she still keeps that box."I do, but it's gotten bigger. So now I have many boxes full of things, and they're not necessarily things that have been stolen so much as they're things that I have from places that I've been where I shouldn't have been."The impulse has evolved but never disappeared. When she travels alone, she notices the old urges."She's still there, you know. She's like, 'Hey, you wanna go? Do you want to get into it?' It's like, no, I do not want to get into it. It's a conversation that's more playful now."At a recent party, she watched a woman being "such an asshole to the people working the event" and felt the familiar pull toward chaos."I remember thinking, I'm just gonna grab her purse and throw it in the garbage. She's gonna lose her mind. She's gonna think somebody stole it. All of her stuff's gonna be gone."Her husband intervened quickly. "He definitely interceded very quickly, like 'You're not doing that.' And I was like, 'Well, we aren't doing anything. Just go get the car, Buddy. You don't have to be a part of this.'"Instead, she kicked the woman's purse under a table three tables over."She did lose her mind and started accusing the staff of stealing it, which just basically outed her for being an even bigger piece of shit than she was."It's vigilante justice without violence. Chaos with a moral compass. And I'm not going to lie—I kind of love it.Love, RedefinedPatric's definition of love doesn't come with fireworks. It's not desperate or possessive. It's mutualism."Organic. Additive. Mutual homeostasis," she said. "Not transactional. Not ego-driven. Just two people benefiting from each other's presence."When her children accomplish something—good grades, first steps, small victories—she celebrates differently than most parents."I'm happy for them. I'm proud of them. But pride is something that's egocentric, isn't it? So many people who have a lot of pride also take it as a reflection of them, like 'Look at what a good parent I am because my kid got an A.' I'm proud for them, proud of them, but it has nothing to do with me."She adds, "You can be diagnosed with secondary psychopathy and still love. You can love differently—and still make it count."Honestly? It sounds like a better kind of love than most people ever get.The Dark Stuff We Can't IgnoreOf course, the part of her story that makes people recoil—the pencil-stabbing, the animal cruelty—can't be sanitized away.When I asked what those moments felt like, she said, "Relief. It was like I could finally stop masking. It was my way of saying, 'This is who I am.'"She doesn't excuse the behavior. She doesn't romanticize it. She just doesn't connect to it emotionally the way neurotypical people do.And that's what terrifies people. But that's also why this story matters.Because when we treat sociopathy like a horror movie diagnosis—something you either are or aren't, something inherently evil—we lose the nuance. We lose the opportunity for understanding. For intervention. For treatment.She's Not Asking for ForgivenessPatric doesn't want you to like her. She's not asking for redemption. She's not looking to be fixed. She's just telling the truth."I don't need an excuse to be an asshole," she told me. "If I'm in a dark place and I act out, I act out. There should be consequences. But I don't feel guilt about it."Her diagnosis doesn't excuse harm. But it does explain how she moves through the world. And she's spent years unlearning harmful behaviors—not because she "feels bad," but because she understands what's right.There's something both terrifying and refreshing about someone who takes responsibility without the emotional theater that usually accompanies it.The Privilege to HealShe's the first to acknowledge that if she weren't white, articulate, and conventionally attractive, this story might have ended very differently."There are thousands of kids with the same traits I had—oppositional defiant disorder, conduct disorder—but they don't get access to treatment. They get kicked out of school. Thrown into the system. Labeled as bad kids. But these are treatable conditions. We just don't fund the solutions."She cites staggering statistics: "Conduct disorder affects roughly 10% of girls and 16% of boys. Its symptoms, such as stealing and deliberate acts of violence, are among the most common reasons for treatment. And yet there's no testing for them or markers for them like there are for autism."This isn't abstract for her. This is the knowledge that hundreds of thousands of children are cycling through systems designed to punish rather than heal. Children who could be helped. Children who could become functional adults, partners, parents.Children who could become her.The Origin MysteryPerhaps the most significant revelation comes when Patric drops a bombshell about her condition's origins:"I was not born this way."She's discovered something about the environmental factors that shaped her—specifically, "having been exposed to psychopathic practices at a very young age." Her response to this discovery? "Relief, fury, and clinical curiosity."But she's not ready to elaborate. "I need to do more research," she says.If her research proves what she suspects, it could revolutionize how we understand and treat sociopathy. It could shift the conversation from "monster or not monster" to "how do we prevent this from happening to other children?"For now, she's keeping that discovery close to her chest. But the implications are staggering.So What Do Her Kids Think?"They've never asked why I'm different," she said. "Because I've always been honest. I've told them, 'Mommy doesn't experience emotions like that. So sometimes I won't understand what you're feeling. But that's okay. You can talk to Daddy.'"When her children heard some of the backlash against her book, their response was pure confusion."They're like, 'I don't understand. Why are people angry? Why are they saying things like that?' They can't wrap their head around it."Her children aren't confused about their mother. The rest of us are confused about what motherhood is supposed to look like.The Uncomfortable TruthThis is not a "look how far she's come" piece. This is a "look how she lives anyway" piece.Patric Gagné isn't trying to be your role model. She's not trying to win you over. But she is asking you to consider that parenting doesn't always have to be soaked in guilt, martyrdom, and emotional exhaustion.Maybe it can also be about logic. Consistency. Showing up. Giving your kids the truth, even when it's not pretty.We love to say that "there's no one way to be a good parent." But we rarely mean it. We say it, then judge every choice that doesn't look like our own.Patric Gagné is here to remind us that the love we think is universal—that overwhelming, consuming, sometimes destructive devotion—might not be the only way to raise whole human beings.You can love differently and still make it count.And maybe that's what makes her the most honest mother of all.If you or someone you know is struggling with thoughts of self-harm, please reach out to a mental health professional or crisis helpline. If you suspect a child may be showing signs of conduct disorder or other behavioral concerns, early intervention can make a significant difference.
It's that time of year again—the back-to-school frenzy has arrived, and somehow we're all supposed to sprint through it like Olympic athletes instead of the sleep-deprived humans we actually are. Shopping for seventeen different types of glue sticks, deciphering new carpool routes, signing forms that multiply overnight, and managing everyone's big feelings (including your own) is a lot. Like, a lot lot.For our kids, it's all new growth and adventure. For us parents? It's an emotional and physical intensity that generally goes completely unnoticed while we're busy making sure everyone else has their shit together.Here's the thing though: while we're laser-focused on helping our children transition and thrive, we're completely ignoring our own needs. And that's a problem.The Emotional Load No One Talks AboutLet's name what usually gets left out of all those cheerful back-to-school articles: this isn't just logistics. It's an emotional transition that can bring anxiety, guilt, and genuine sadness. Whether your kid is starting kindergarten or senior year, every milestone asks us to let go in little ways that add up to big feelings.We're lying awake wondering: Will they make friends? Will they be safe? Will they remember to eat lunch or speak up when they need help? And while we're carrying all of that, there's this weird pressure to appear calm, collected, and totally in control.Ignore this emotional labor long enough and it shows up as tension headaches, digestive issues, insomnia, or just general crankiness that makes everyone miserable. That's why early school-year self-care isn't a luxury—it's essential.Your Kids Feel Your EnergyHere's what they don't tell you in parenting books: your children feel you more than they hear you. They pick up on your anxiety, your overwhelm, your frantic energy—even when you think you're hiding it perfectly.Taking time for your needs isn't selfish; it's modeling. You're teaching them how to regulate emotions, rest, and listen to their bodies by watching how you treat yours.When you actually take care of yourself, you become more present, more patient, more emotionally available. You can hold space for their big feelings without drowning in your own. You create an inner anchor that keeps you steady when life gets chaotic."Your children feel you more than they hear you."Back-to-School Self-Care That Actually WorksForget the bubble bath fantasies. Real self-care during this season is about making intentional micro-choices that support your nervous system when everything feels overwhelming.Protect your mornings. After drop-off, resist diving straight into emails. Give yourself 10 minutes of transition time. Sit in your car. Take a walk. Listen to music. Let yourself breathe before the day hijacks you.Fuel yourself too. We obsess over what our kids eat while surviving on coffee and whatever we can grab. Prep some actual food for yourself. Your brain needs fuel to handle the mental load.Move with kindness. Dance while making lunches. Stretch in the carpool line. Movement releases stored stress and doesn't require a gym membership.Breathe intentionally. Try box breathing (inhale for 4, hold for 4, exhale for 4, hold for 4) at red lights. Two minutes can reset your entire nervous system.Ask for help. Carpools, homework assistance, someone to vent to—you're not meant to do this alone. Let other people support you without guilt.Say no strategically. September brings infinite opportunities to overcommit. Honor your actual capacity, not your imaginary superhero version.Your Presence Is the GiftYour kids don't need perfect parents—they need present ones. And presence doesn't come from doing more; it comes from connecting deeper to yourself.This season, let it be back-to-school for you too. Back to structure, yes, but back to yourself. Back to what nourishes you, calms you, and lets you lead your family from wholeness instead of depletion.Because when you take care of yourself, you're not stepping away from your family—you're showing up for them in the most loving, sustainable way possible.Teresa Bird is an Empowered Healing Mentor who guides women to break free from trauma, silence, and self-doubt using Breathwork, Reiki, and Hypnosis. Connect with her at @empowered_healing111
How Niusha Walker's Fight for Her Daughter Became a Battle for All Women's RightsNiusha Walker wishes she could tell you she chose surrogacy to save her figure. She wishes it was that simple, that shallow, that easy to dismiss. Instead, she had to watch seven pregnancies fail, undergo blood transfusions, endure experimental treatments that altered her immune system, and finally accept that her body—no matter how desperately she willed it—would never carry her child.Now, as she watches governments around the world criminalize the very process that gave her two-year-old daughter London, Niusha realizes her most private pain has become everyone's political battleground."I would have never thought a day would come in 2025 where surrogacy is problematic," says Niusha, her voice carrying the exhaustion of someone who's fought too many battles just to become a mother. "Especially when everyone's so woke, everyone's allowed to have their rights and freedom to choose what they want to do. Why is surrogacy something we can't decide on?"It's a question that cuts to the heart of a global assault on reproductive freedom—one that's targeting not just LGBTQ+ families, but straight women like Walker who discover that motherhood, for them, requires help.Niusha's story begins where so many immigrant tales do: with parents who sacrificed everything for a better life. Born in Tehran, she came to Canada at five years old, watching her parents rebuild from nothing—new language, new culture, new careers from the ground up."Seeing my parents have to build themselves and go back to school and get their education taught me a lot about what it takes to really build something," Niusha reflects. "The grit, the time, the patience."That immigrant resilience served her well as she climbed to become one of the GTA's top real estate brokers, but it couldn't prepare her for the battle ahead. Because when Niusha and her British-Canadian husband decided to start a family, her body had other plans.The medical interventions read like a catalog of desperation: IVF, IUI, IVIG blood transfusions, experimental treatments where white blood cells were injected into her forearm to trick her immune system into not attacking embryos. Each attempt carried hope. Each failure carried heartbreak."Even with embryos graded as amazing quality, nothing in science is guaranteed," Niusha explains, her business-like composure cracking slightly. "After seven failed pregnancies, our doctor sat us down and said, 'You either adopt or you get a surrogate. If you want your own child, I would suggest the surrogacy route.'"The decision felt like both defeat and hope—a last chance wrapped in the complexity of modern medicine and the simplicity of ancient longing.What Niusha didn't anticipate was how personal medical decisions would become global political flashpoints. Italy now imposes million-euro fines and two-year prison sentences for surrogacy. Similar restrictions are spreading across Europe and parts of the United States, turning the path to parenthood into a criminal act."That's absolutely devastating," Niusha says when confronted with these realities. "I don't think anyone should have the authority to take away the right of reproduction for any two loving couples. A couple should be able to have the right to start a family, whichever method they choose."The irony isn't lost on her: the same governments pushing "family values" are the ones making it illegal for couples to build families."A couple should be able to have the right to start a family, whichever method they choose."Perhaps what stings most is the assumption that surrogacy is a luxury choice, a vanity project for women too selfish to carry their own children. Niusha has actually been asked if she "got a surrogate to save her figure.""I wish that was the reason," she says, the pain evident. "I wish I could say yes, that's the reason."This misunderstanding reveals a broader invisibility—straight women who can't conceive often disappear from surrogacy conversations, overshadowed by the more visible LGBTQ+ advocacy while carrying their own quiet shame about bodies that won't cooperate."There's shame around it," Niusha acknowledges. "Society expects women to grow up, have children, procreate. And if you can't do that as a woman, who are you as a woman?"Building an Empire While Building a FamilyToday, Niusha balances her thriving real estate business with raising London, whose existence she celebrates openly on social media—a deliberate act of visibility in a world trying to erase stories like hers."I want London to look up to me and realize that my mom didn't need to work but she worked and created this business for herself," Niusha explains. "I want my daughter to look back and say, 'Wow, my mom, I'm so proud of her.'"Motherhood has made her more understanding of other working parents, more aware of the impossible balance women navigate daily. But it's also sharpened her focus on what matters: building something lasting for the daughter she fought so hard to have.When asked what she'd say to lawmakers pushing surrogacy bans, Niusha's response is succinct: "Don't."For Iranian-Canadian and immigrant mothers watching her carve out this life, her message is more expansive: "Keep pushing through. Stay independent, follow your passion, and don't let anybody stop you. It's never too late, and never give up—when there's a will, there's a way. Nothing's impossible."These aren't just platitudes from someone who's made it. They're battle cries from a woman who knows what it costs to fight for the life you want, the family you need, the future you're building.Ask Niusha to describe motherhood in one word, and she doesn't hesitate: "Joy." But she's quick to add the caveat—"now that the colic phase is over"—a reminder that even miracle babies come with sleepless nights and steep learning curves."Parenting is not as easy as people think," she admits. "Nobody talks about how hard it is. It's humbling."But London has taught her patience, and Niusha has learned that nothing's impossible when your heart's truly in something. It's a lesson born from loss, forged in determination, and tested by a world that increasingly wants to criminalize the love that brought her daughter into existence.As surrogacy restrictions spread and reproductive rights contract, Niusha's story becomes more than personal triumph—it's political resistance. Every photo of London, every business success, every moment of joy is proof that families come in many forms, that love finds many paths, and that motherhood can't be legislated away."I would do it ten times over to have London," Niusha says, and in those words lies both vulnerability and defiance. Because in a world trying to decide who deserves to be a parent, she's living proof that love—not law—should make that choice.Niusha's message is clear: the fight for reproductive freedom isn't just about the future—it's about protecting the families that already exist because of it.
September always feels like a reset. There’s a quiet shift in the air. The mornings are crisper, the light changes, and suddenly the pace of life picks up again. It's the time of year when backpacks get zipped, alarms are reset, and as parents, we brace ourselves for the return of routines.But there is more to this time of year than just what the calendar offers us. For so many of us, there is more. We are not just coming back to schedules; we are coming back to ourselves.After the stretch of summer, with late bedtimes, barefoot kids, road trips, cottage weekends, and whatever semblance of rest we could manage, we land back in September with a strange mix of resistance and relief. That tension is REAL. And it’s VALID.Because coming back into self is not just about figuring out what is next, it's also about choosing what we want to take forward, and what we are ready to leave behind.The Back-to-School WhirlwindLet’s be honest, September can feel like whiplash. One minute, we’re searching for flip-flops and sunscreen, and the next, we’re elbow-deep in meal prep, scrambling to get the last of the school supplies, and trying to remember which kid needs what on which day.It’s chaotic. It’s exhausting. And somewhere beneath it all, it is emotional.There’s something painfully raw about the back-to-school season. Watching our kids take another step forward, while we try to anchor them (and ourselves) through the transitions.Whether you're taking your kindergartener into their first classroom or watching your teenager drive away, it hits you. Pride. Sadness. That aching feeling of letting go… again.And while we’re managing the logistics, we’re also carrying a heavier emotional load. We're holding the mental tabs open: permission forms, snack bins, therapy appointments, work deadlines, extracurriculars, and the constant, unspoken question… Am I doing enough?What We Don’t Always Say Out LoudThere’s a version of parenthood that doesn’t make it into casual conversations. The internal reckoning. The quiet grief that shows up in small, ordinary moments.It’s not dramatic. It’s just real.It’s the ache of watching your child grow while certain parts of you feel left behind. The dreams you’ve put on pause. The idea of who you are feels like a blur at best. The guilt that tags along with every decision, whether you stay home, go to work, or try to do both.Modern parenting demands we show up everywhere, for everyone, all the time. It requires us to be calm, confident, and competent, even when we’re running on empty. And often, it hasn't been easy to call it what it is… A LOT.But here’s what I’ve learned…When we carve out even small moments to come back to ourselves, we remember who we are beneath the noise. It doesn’t need to look like a spa day or a silent retreat. Sometimes it’s just sitting in your car for an extra five minutes in silence or a deep breath before answering another “Mom!” or “Dad!” Sometimes it’s journaling before bed, or listening to a song that reminds you of who you were before becoming a parent took overyour identity.You’re still in there. And September is a good time to find your way back.Re-rooting Isn’t Always PrettyThere’s this idea that coming home to yourself should be beautiful, graceful, or Instagram-worthy. That’s not the kind of return I’m talking about. I’m talking about real, messy, necessary returns.Coming home to yourself might mean seeing a therapist, saying no to one more commitment, leaving the dishes, taking a walk, choosing sleep over hustle.Sometimes it means asking for help, even when it feels uncomfortable.Sometimes it means starting something new… because you want to, not because you have something to prove.For some parents, this season has become a time of deep realignment. Not in a flashy, performative way, but in small, powerful ways that change everything. People are launching side businesses, signing up for workshops, changing careers, reconnecting with their bodies, and learning how to parent differently than they were parented.This is happening in real homes. In real time. Over mugs of tea, on the sidelines of soccer games, and in the stillness between bedtime and cleanup. Change is not as loud. But change exists. So, What Does Re-Rooting Look Like for You?This isn’t about perfection. It’s about presence.You don’t have to change the course of your life. You don’t have to have figured it all out. You just need to find your way back to you… one step at a time.That might mean:Morning walks instead of scrolling your phoneMaking art againSaying no without feeling guiltyEnjoying your coffee while it’s still hot (or at the very least trying)Allowing yourself to rest without earning that right firstLet this be the season you stop running on fumes. Let it be the moment you remember that you’re allowed to be well, not just functioning.You’re allowed to have needs, desires, and dreams that exist outside your role as a parent. You’re allowed to pause, to take a break. You’re allowed to feel. You’re allowed to return to what grounds you.One Breath at a TimeRe-rooting isn’t one big decision. It’s a series of small ones.It’s coming back to the version of you that’s still alive beneath the busy-ness.It’s remembering what matters.It’s taking the time to be held by your breath, by your people, and by your land.This fall, I’m choosing to re-root. Not into grind culture… Not into guilt.But into truth… Into wellness… Into the kind of wholeness that starts from the ground up.I hope you’ll join me.Xo, Teresa BirdTeresa Bird is an Empowered Healing Mentor who guides women to break free from trauma, silence, and self-doubt using Breathwork, Reiki, and Hypnosis. Connect with her at @empowered_healing111
September is here, folks! Extra-curriculars are back in full swing, our evenings booked solid, and our group chats overflowing with "what time are they done?" and "who's sending snacks?"I vowed I would take things easy this year, but who am I actually kidding?This past year was hard - really hard! We were tired and stretched thin. While my youngest, Lexi, continued to grow before my eyes, I barely had time to really see her. No March break, no Family Day, barely any weekend breaks. The pace was relentless, the exhaustion overwhelming.If you have any type of competitive athlete in your household, you understand: the endless hours, the physical/emotional toll, the deep financial commitment. It's not just the child who's in it. It's the entire family.Our studio - The Nine Dance Academy in Vaughan - made a bold decision: to aim for Studio of the Year at The Dance Awards in Las Vegas, one of the most prestigious dance competitions in North America. This isn't just any competition. It's where the very best studios come to compete, known for their artistry, technical excellence, and relentless drive.While our studio has always stood out regionally, stepping onto a national stage raised the stakes. Suddenly, we weren't just aiming to be great - we were going up against the best of the best. There were moments of doubt. We questioned if we were ready, if this leap was too ambitious. But our studio owners, Nikki & Vanessa, chose to believe in something bigger than fear.Off we went to Vegas for 10 days. Yes, ten whole days.Somewhere between costumes and tap shoes, I managed to squeeze in a toaster because I was delusional enough to think I'd meal prep in Sin City (for the record, I did make pancakes several times and set off the smoke alarm - yes, that was me). We arrived with hope in our hearts, caffeine in our veins, and dreams of sparkly costumes and Studio of the Year glory.The days were long, the nights longer. Somewhere between safety pins and hair gel, our kids started dropping like flies - fevers, stomach flus - but somehow, they still showed up, full of courage and determination.Us parents? We were right there beside them, handing out candy like party favors, offering love along with Advil and Gravol every step of the way. Sure, there were heated discussions and rising tensions, but the kids danced their hearts out. There were stumbles, forgotten steps, one or two near-collisions, but they picked themselves up (and the paper they dropped on-stage) and kept going.They hustled. They sparkled. They made us all proud.By Friday night, we made it - Top 5 Best Studio! Spirits were high, energy hanging by a thread, running on sheer adrenaline.Saturday was go-time. Armed with Advil and Gravol, the kids pushed through like champs. We manifested greatness. We had vision boards (in our heads), good vibes (in our souls), and prayed the spray tan gods were on our side.We cannot forget the "voodoo doll incident." When asked, we were told it was just a "good luck charm," but let's be real... it looked less like an American Girl doll and more like something from a haunted carnival in New Orleans. Curse or not, we weren't backing down.Gala night arrived. We showed up dressed to the 'nines' (yes, pun intended),nerves buzzing, clinging to cocktails like emotional support beverages. The energy was electric. We were there with one goal: to pour out every ounce of good energy and hope that maybe, just maybe, this would be our night.Our nerves escalated from slightly jittery to full-blown awards-show-heart-palpitations. Then something amazing happened: three of our dancers won Best Dancer awards.But then came the moment.Could we actually win as a studio? Five announcers walked on stage. The ballroom held its collective breath..."And the 2025 Studio of the Year will be...THE NINE DANCE ACADEMY!!"FROM TORONTO. FROM TORONTO?Screams. Cheers. Tears. We jumped with joy, hugged anyone within arm's reach, makeup running, drinks spilling, hearts bursting. Then we ran straight to our kids - the ones we'd been showing up for all along.We weren't just parents that week. We were therapists, doctors, snack smugglers, pep talkers, personal assistants, and professional hug-givers. We patched up fevers and broken nails, and we were there in every way that mattered.That moment - hearing our studio's name, hugging our kids, knowing all the sweat, stress, and late-night breakdowns led to this - that was when it all made sense.We were the underdogs, the studio from 'somewhere in Canada' that many had never heard of. But we showed up with heart, talent, and grit. Now we're not just on the map - we've etched our name into it.Most of these girls have been dancing side by side since they were six. What they've built is more than friendship - it's a sisterhood forged through sweat, tears, triumphs, and countless hours on stage. Their bond runs deep, and it shows in every step.Never say you can't. Never say it's impossible. Because we - The Nine Dance Academy 'somewhere in Canada' - are living proof that dreams, no matter how far-fetched, do come true.Here's to the dancers who poured their hearts into every step. Here's to the choreographers who turned movement into magic. And here's to us - THE PARENTS - who cheered from the wings, complained about fees and late rehearsals, but held it together when our kids couldn't.We may not have seen our kids much this past year, but in that moment, when their names were called and we watched their faces light up with disbelief and joy, every second we gave was returned a hundred times over.Because we weren't just witnessing a win - we were witnessing a dream fulfilled and history in the making.Happy back to school, everyone. Here's to another year of showing up for our kids and their dreams!
Let’s be honest, summer vacation rings differently when you are an adult responsible for children. The end of June rolls around and you are relieved you don’t have to pack school lunches and be in the daily grind of the school year routine but now what? Two full months to occupy and entertain our kids can feel daunting. Afterall, summer is supposed to be fun, right?Summertime is where so many core childhood memories are made with family, friends and within our communities. Living in the Greater Toronto Area, I have access to so many unique and enriching experiences throughout our world class city.However, the cost of living and travel has increased significantly in the last year and we are all stretched pretty thin so here are some cost-effective ways to provide children with fun, enriching and educational experiences in your own homes.Summer Staycation Ideas at HomeOpen Ended Play with Recycled Materials (and maybe a touch of technology)As an early childhood educator, I've learned this: kids don’t need much to learn, grow, and explore.Keep some cardboard boxes that keep magically showing up on your porch and see what your kids create. A few weeks ago, during a sleepover, my five-year-old nephew used two big boxes to build a newsroom desk and chair. He asked me to record his “news report” for his parents, updating them on our weekend plans. His sisters joined in as background props. No idea where this came from at 7 a.m. on a Saturday—but it was magic.Just have tape, markers, scissors, and paper on hand, and watch them take off.At-Home Spa DaySpa day? Yes, please. Grab a big jug of water, toss in some lemon and cucumber slices, and suddenly hydration feels luxurious. Want to elevate it? Add strawberries and torn basil leaves—bonus: the water turns slightly pink and tastes like summer in a glass.If the weather’s playing nice, take it outside. If not, turn your bathroom into a spa sanctuary. Fill the tub with warm water and let the magic happen. Think: flower petals, water-safe crystals, bubbles, glow sticks, naturally scented bath salts, and safely diluted essential oils. Throw in some coloured bath bombs and let your little one pick the extras—baby dolls, dinosaurs, rubber ducks, whatever sparks joy.Add spa music. Have towels ready. Blow bubbles. Let go of the plan.Sip on a nice hot cup of coffee, herbal tea or glass of wine while you watch your child relax and enjoy the experience. You can do a face mask together, paint each other’s nails with water-based, non-toxic, peel off nail polish, apply temporary tattoos, brush and style each other’s hair, choose comfy or fancy outfits and have a healthy spa style lunch or smoothie afterwards.Get in the Kitchen TogetherI love teaching kids how to make smoothies whenever they come visit. It is a fun, simple, cheap and cheerful way to include them in creating a delicious and healthy snack, learn about basic kitchen safety and nutrition facts, and incorporate some fruits, vegetables, fiber and hydration into their little bodies. I always get texts from their parents a few days after asking for the recipe. Kids can also help make a simple peach tomato salsa, flatbread pizza, cucumber tomato salad, simple pasta dishes, vegetable soups and yogurt granola smoothie bowls.To start, here is one of my go-to summer smoothie recipes that is a perfect way to stay healthy and hydrate this summer. It’s loaded with vitamin C and A, which is great for keeping your immune system strong and energy up (trust me, you’re going to need all the help you can get).Host a garage sale or private toy/ clothing swapWe all have way too many things. Toys, clothes, shoes, sports equipment, dance outfits, art supplies, puzzles, baby toys, games. You name it. Why not plan a garage sale on your street or host a private clothing/toy swap with your family and friends. You can offer items for free, a minimal fee or raise money for a cause that is close to your heart. This is a great way to reduce all the things in our homes and teach children the value of money and why it’s important to share and care for others in the community who are less fortunate.Host a Children’s Art GalleryHost a child-led art gallery showcasing your child’s artwork. Make and sell entrance tickets. Write a guest list. Make snacks to share with your guests. Showcase the art around your home and/or outdoor space. You can sell the art and add the funds to your child’s piggy bank (or education fund) or raise funds for a local food bank or charity. This can also be done with dance, film, play, or music performances.Create a RestaurantTransform your dining room or outdoor patio into a restaurant. Explore different cookbooks, restaurants and cooking shows for inspiration. Take a trip to the local farmer’s market to get fresh, local ingredients together. Create a menu and cook together. Set the table, choose music and beautiful decorations to set the tone and mood. Your family will love this experience any time of year, but especially when celebrating a special visitor, birthday, anniversary, holiday or milestone.At the end of the day, summer memories aren’t made from big budgets—they’re made from big love, small moments, and a little imagination. Whether you're playing spa, building a cardboard castle, or sharing smoothies on the porch, these simple joys are what your kids will remember. So give yourself permission to slow down, get a little messy, and create magic right at home.Stefanie Morra is an Early Childhood Educator, Holistic Nutritionist, and Contributing Writer at JEO Publishing. With a passion for empowering families through play, wellness, and connection, she brings a warm, grounded voice to everything she writes—especially when it comes to turning chaos into joy.You can follow her adventures (and kitchen experiments) at @littlenestholistic.
The Father's Day cards make it look so damn easy. Cartoon dads with perfectly trimmed beards, grilling burgers while dispensing wisdom and never getting ketchup on their suspiciously clean shirts. Meanwhile, I'm over here with mysterious stains on every item of clothing I own, answering existential questions about why the moon follows us in the car while simultaneously trying not to burn dinner.Father's Day has this weird energy to it—like we're all supposed to pretend fatherhood is this seamless identity we've effortlessly integrated, rather than the daily high-wire act of trying not to mess up the small humans who've been inexplicably entrusted to our care.Here's what the cards don't show: The 3 AM panic that your child's slightly elevated temperature means they definitely have a rare tropical disease. The way your heart shatters when they come home crying because someone was mean. The physical pain of stepping on a LEGO at midnight on your way to check if they're breathing. The bizarre pride you feel when they finally master wiping their own ass.Let's be honest about what Father's Day really celebrates: our spectacular, ongoing failure to have any idea what we're doing—and showing up anyway.And one day—sooner than I can admit out loud—I’ll pick up my child for the last time.WHAT I REALLY WANT FOR FATHER'S DAYHere it is—the thing they don't put in the baby books, the thing we're afraid to admit in dad groups, the secret that feels simultaneously obvious and profound:Our children are making us as much as we're making them.Every time I think I'm teaching Stella patience, she's actually teaching me. Every boundary I set with Mia is reshaping my own understanding of what matters. The person I am now bears only a passing resemblance to the person I was before they arrived—and thank god for that.Fatherhood isn't just about raising children; it's about being continuously humbled, rebuilt, and expanded by small people who see no contradiction between magic and reality.So this Father's Day, let's skip the performative breakfast in bed (we all know I'll be the one cleaning up those pancake dishes) and the ties we'll never wear. Instead, let's acknowledge the beautiful truth: that fatherhood is about showing up, broken pieces and all, for the magnificent chaos of it all. That it's not about being perfect—it's about being present.Being a father is the hardest thing I've ever loved doing, the most exhausting joy, the most rewarding devastation. It's having your heart permanently relocated outside your body, walking around in the world, collecting scraped knees and disappointments and triumphs that you feel in your own bones.It's living with the constant awareness that you're almost certainly screwing up in ways you won't understand until they're in therapy decades from now, and showing up anyway. Every day. Even when you're tired. Even when you're lost. Even when you've checked the time fourteen times in the past hour wondering if bedtime could possibly be that far away.Because the secret truth of fatherhood is this: it's not about the big moments. It's not about the milestones or the photo ops or the perfect Father's Day. It's about the thousands of ordinary moments—wiping noses, answering questions, sitting on the edge of the bed just a little longer because they asked you to, making up stories about butterflies and hurricanes—that quietly, without fanfare, become the most important thing you've ever done.Happy Father's Day to all of us beautiful disasters trying our best. May your coffee be hot, your children's aim in the bathroom be true, and may we all remember, on the hardest days, that this too shall pass—the difficult and the transcendent alike.And one day—sooner than I can admit out loud—I’ll pick up my child for the last time.Not because I’ll plan it. There won’t be some ceremonial lifting, no camera-ready moment or slow-motion goodbye. It’ll just happen. One day, without warning, I’ll lift them onto my hip, or into bed, or out of the car seat, and it’ll be the last time their small arms wrap around my neck that way. And I won’t even know it until later—until long after their feet hit the ground and they don’t ask to be carried anymore.That’s what no one tells you about fatherhood: the last times always hide themselves inside the ordinary. You spend so much energy surviving the hard stuff, you don’t even notice the magic slipping through your fingers. The late-night lullabies, the “Daddy, stay a little longer,” the way their hand fits perfectly inside yours—for now.So if there’s anything I want for Father’s Day, it’s this:To hold onto today just a little longer.To memorize the sound of their laughter before it changes.To stay right here, in this messy, beautiful middle—where I’m exhausted and overwhelmed and deeply, unimaginably lucky.Because one day, the chaos will quiet. The toys will disappear. The questions will stop. The house will fall still.And I will ache for the noise.So tonight, I’ll answer one more question. I’ll read one more story. I’ll stay a little longer. Because I know—someday, far too soon—I’ll wish I had.
June called. She’s bringing school concerts, field trips, communion, graduations, confirmations, prom, dance competitions, year-end forms, and 1,000 reminders from the Parent Association! (Yes, also starring in that production, yours truly). I’m overwhelmed and feel like there aren't enough hours in the day. My brain feels fried as I attempt to power through tasks and remember all the “very important things” I’ve forgotten twice already. The struggle is real.It’s fair to say most of us are swimming in a sea of mental overload this time of year. Sometimes, I look at my calendar and genuinely wonder how I’m supposed to survive the next seven days… only to realize, oh right, seems a lot of us are in that same boat. Do we overdo it? Pile on too much? Have our kids enrolled in enough activities to qualify as part-time Uber drivers? Probably.Back in the day, my mom had us in swimming (non-negotiable) and the occasional “try-this-for-a-month” activity. So now, as a grown woman barely hitting 5 feet tall who loves to dance, I often ask her - “Mom… why wouldn’t you put me in jazz or ballet?”Instead, there I was—every Monday and Wednesday—kicking it (literally) at the local martial arts studio in a crisp white gi, belt tied proudly, karate-chopping my way through childhood.When I ask her why Ju Jitsu?!, she casually replies,“So you could defend yourself.” OK, Mom. Because if I’m ever mid-abduction by a full-grown-burly man, I’ll make sure to stop, strike a pose, and execute a flawless kata. Totally realistic."My brain feels fried as I attempt to power through tasks and remember all the ‘very important things’ I’ve forgotten twice already."Anyway, this isn’t a reflection on what we did or didn’t do as kids, rather an observation on how saturated our lives have become with endless activities and responsibilities, many of which could probably use a little filtering. We’re constantly on the move, sometimes juggling more than feels humanly possible. While I may, at times, face criticism for doing too much and rarely carving out time for myself, I wholeheartedly believe in showing up for my kids, in everything they do and aspire to become. That kind of support, I hope, is something they’ll carry with them throughout their lives.I’ve always been a supporter of their dreams and passions, and as parents, I believe it’s a gift to be able to guide, encourage, and nurture our little humans to be the best version of themselves, whatever way that looks for them.So, here’s my advice. Maybe it’s time we shift our perspective a bit. Yes, we’re exhausted. Yes, we’re juggling a million things. And yes, the calendars on our phones look like a color-coded game of Tetris. But, sometimes, a tiny shift in perspective can bring a big dose of peace.I often say - “My plate is so full” and recently, I chatted about this with our incredible ‘nonna’- my husband’s Italian grandmother and a true force of nature. At 96 years young, she still rolls up her sleeves to help with the annual tomato sauce and tends the garden.When we go over for dinners, I always urge her to sit and relax - “Nonna, please! Let us clear the table!” – and her answer is always the same - “I can’t just sit. Think of a car left parked for too long in the driveway - it starts to rust. We’re the same.” That hits me. Hard. This isn’t just about staying active - it’s about fully living. We’re meant to keep moving, to lean into the chaos, to savor the flavor of every messy, magical moment and not complain! (Impossible, just saying.)So now, whenever someone says, “My plate is too full,” I reply with - “But isn’t a full plate a blessing?” Enjoy every bite. And if it feels like too much? That’s okay - wrap up the leftovers and come back when you’re ready. Life isn’t meant to be perfect. It’s meant to be lived.With that, enjoy the craziness the next few months has in store for you. If the pace is speeding up because you’re sprinting to the finish line with mismatched socks and to-go-box in hand, just slow down. Stop, breathe and remind yourself - “I’ve got this!” - one task, one stumble, and one check list at a time, because being able to ‘do’ is a blessing, and a ‘full plate’ should always be appreciated. Happy May everyone, the race is on!
Sometimes, we try way too hard to control everything around us — with the best intentions, of course! I’m guilty of it daily. No matter how many self-help podcasts I binge, promising me inner peace and a go-with-the-flow attitude, I somehow end up right back where I started — strategizing, planning, and (let’s be honest) lightly micromanaging the universe.Just to be clear, when I say “control,” I’m not talking about full-blown evil villain, world domination levels. I mean the kind of control where I’m just making sure everything and everyone around me is taken care of — including the dogs and the houseplants.Here’s a little anecdote I’m sure many parents can relate to — especially those of us raising fashion-forward children (a.k.a. kids with a wardrobe agenda stronger than the Wi-Fi signal). Whether they’re toddlers or teens, the battle over questionable fashion choices is very real. So, what do you do when your three-year-old son decides to commit the ultimate fashion faux pas, violating every I-will-never-let-my-kid-wear-this rule you once swore by?“I was the villain in this story. The fun-crushing, dream-destroying, joy-sucking villain.”This is where things get tricky.Let’s rewind to a time when my sweet little boy was just that… sweet and little. Back then, he would proudly walk beside me, his tiny hand wrapped around mine, the other clutching his lunchbox like a briefcase of important toddler business. He’d give me morning kisses and welcome me with big hugs — completely unbothered by the possibility of his little buddies witnessing such displays of affection.So, here’s the story.I remember being in a department store looking at shoes. All was going well… until I spotted my son from across the store, sprinting toward me with the biggest grin on his face. Something was clutched in his tiny hands — something flashing.I squinted. Was it…? No. Please, no.I looked down and, to my ever-shocking dismay, there they were: the most hideous shoes known to mankind. A pair of black Velcro sneakers plastered with Spiderman — not subtly either. We’re talking full superhero explosion. And worst of all? The soles lit up with blinding red lights. These things didn’t just blink; they flashed like an emergency evacuation alarm.I nearly dropped to the ground (slight exaggeration, but it adds to the drama),clutched my chest (also dramatic, I know), and let out a slow-motion, cinematic “NOOOOOOOO!” as he ran toward me.His smile vanished, and his excitement turned to instant heartbreak. And in that moment, I realized: I was the villain in this story. The fun-crushing, dream-destroying, joy-sucking villain. And I felt like the biggest jerk alive.“We raise them to be independent… then feel betrayed when they actually are.”Conversation went as follows...Little C: “Mami, can you buy me these shoes?”Me: “Oh buddy, they’re cute… but… how about these cool sneakers over here?”Little C: “No, Mami, I want these. Spiderman. Look. Cool. With lights!”So there I was. Standing in the middle of the store, my world crumbling around me. This was it — the moment of truth. The parenting plot twist I never saw coming. I could no longer force my son to make the “right” decision (aka the decision I wanted). No, those days were over. At the ripe old age of three, he had declared his independence, stood his tiny ground, and made it painfully clear that Spiderman light-up sneakers were non-negotiable.And what was my job in all of this? To listen. To support. To guide him in his choices… even if those choices made my soul physically cringe. It was tough. It was heartbreaking. It was humbling.The store didn’t have the shoes in his size. He was disappointed, and I was beyond thrilled. We left, and he was sad.This brings me back to the story of his birthday party a couple months prior. C wanted a Spider-Man piñata, and I wanted Diego. So I convinced him Diego was the dude. My sister made me feel bad. I totally dig Spiderman — but the party room we rented looked like a jungle, and I thought it would be way cooler to have a Diego piñata than Spidey hanging from the vines amongst the tigers, lions, and bears… oh my!?Thinking back on this, I feel terrible about it. (What did Spider-Man ever do to me??)Back to the shoes.Two weeks later, C was awarded Student of the Week at school for his outstanding behavior and enthusiasm. He was so proud — and cleverly used that moment to ask for “something he really wanted.”To be honest, there’s no guide or manual to parenthood. Regardless of our education or qualifications, parenting is in a league of its own. We just have to hope every decision we make, every piece of advice we offer, every tear we dry, every smile we return, every explanation we give — and every shoe we buy — is done with love, understanding, respect, kindness, compassion, and the best of intentions.We need to learn to pick our battles.Over the years, I’ve learned a lot. It’s true — letting children make their own decisions builds confidence, responsibility, and problem-solving skills. It prepares them for independence and real-life challenges. But I also believe a healthy balance is important. Some decisions may lead to failure (which is its own lesson). Others will lead to success — on their own terms, with or without our guidance, no matter their age.My belief as a parent is to always be by their sides — for guidance and support.I struggle often with letting go, as I’m sure most parents do. It’s hard, because no matter how old they are, we always want to protect them, stay connected, and feel needed.Watching them become independent is bittersweet — it’s a sign of success, but it also means letting go.“Letting go isn’t weakness. It’s the quiet superpower of a parent who’s doing it right.”I bought him the shoes. I searched the city. Drove around the world (maybe). We finally found his size. The shoe fit.And as per his request, we left the store with his old ones in the box and his brand-new disco-ball-on-wheels Spidey sneakers lighting up with every step he took.I was proud of him. He stood his ground and defended his right to dress like a tiny, chaotic fashion icon. And he got what he wanted.Yes, they were blindingly bright. Yes, I’m pretty sure we nearly caused a traffic jam crossing the street.But my little guy was beaming — and honestly, at that moment, so was I.(Please note, I did convince him they were “special shoes” and should only be worn at school. It was a parenting win-win at its finest.)
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LETTER 1Dear Bitch Fest,I'm 34, recently divorced, and my ex-husband is already engaged to someone he met three months ago. Meanwhile, I'm over here trying to figure out how to use dating apps without wanting to throw my phone into traffic. Everyone keeps telling me I should "get back out there" and "you're so strong," but honestly? I feel like a garbage person most days. How do I not hate myself for taking longer to bounce back than apparently everyone else on the planet?—Slow & Steady Loses the RaceDear Slow & Steady,First off, fuck everyone who's clocking your healing timeline like you're running a marathon they have money on. Your ex-husband didn't "bounce back"—he ricocheted directly into another person's life because sitting alone with his feelings was scarier than a horror movie marathon. That's not recovery; that's emotional whiplash with a ring attached.Here's what nobody tells you about divorce: there's no prize for speed-healing. You're not "losing" because you need more than a season to figure out who you are without someone else's dirty socks on your bedroom floor. You're being a goddamn adult about it.Let me paint you a picture of what's actually happening here. While you're doing the hard work of untangling years of shared everything and figuring out which version of yourself exists without his commentary, he's playing house with someone new. That's not strength—that's avoidance dressed up in wedding planning. He's using this poor woman as a human band-aid, and honestly? I feel sorry for her.Meanwhile, you're over here having actual feelings about the end of something that mattered. You're grieving not just the relationship, but the future you thought you were building and the comfort of knowing someone's coffee order by heart. That's not weakness—that's being human with a capital H.Here's what I want you to do: take all that energy you're spending on feeling like a "garbage person" and redirect it toward something that actually matters. Learn to cook that one dish you always wanted to try. Buy yourself flowers on a Tuesday for no reason other than you're still breathing. The goal isn't to become someone new—it's to remember who you were before you became half of a "we."Those dating apps? They'll still be there when you're ready to swipe through the wasteland of men whose entire personality is "I love The Office." Right now, your job is to remember that you're a whole person, not half of something broken. And for the love of all that's holy, stop measuring your progress against someone who clearly makes decisions the way a toddler picks breakfast cereal. You're not slow—you're thorough. There's a difference.LETTER 2Dear Bitch Fest,My best friend of 15 years has become completely obsessed with wellness culture. She won't shut up about her morning routine, her supplements, her "toxic" job (which pays well and she actually likes), and how I need to "align my energy." Last week she tried to sell me a $300 course on "feminine leadership" and got genuinely offended when I said no. I miss my friend, but I don't know how to talk to this MLM wellness robot she's become. Help?—Missing My Actual FriendDear Missing,Your friend didn't find wellness—she found a very expensive way to avoid her actual problems. That $300 course? It's not about feminine leadership; it's about buying a sense of purpose when you're too scared to examine why you feel empty.Here's the thing about wellness culture: it's designed to make you feel like you're constantly failing at being human. Your friend has found a community that tells her she's "awakened" while everyone else is "asleep," which is both incredibly seductive and incredibly isolating. She's not trying to hurt you—she's trying to save you from the same existential dread that's eating her alive.You have two choices: set boundaries harder than a prison wall, or have one brutally honest conversation about what's really going on in her life. Try this: "I love you, but I need you to hear me. I don't want to buy anything, join anything, or optimize anything. I just want my friend back. Can we hang out without talking about your morning routine?"If she can't do that, then you're grieving someone who's still alive, and that's its own kind of hell. But sometimes people need to get lost in the wellness sauce before they find their way back to being human.LETTER 3Dear Bitch Fest,I'm a 28-year-old woman who just started a new job at a company I actually love. The problem? My manager is a woman in her 40s who seems to hate me for no reason. She's supportive of everyone else on the team, but with me, she's cold, dismissive, and finds fault with everything I do. I've tried being extra friendly, staying late, bringing coffee—nothing works. I'm starting to think she just doesn't like young women, but I don't know how to handle this without looking like I'm playing the victim. What do I do?—Trying Too HardDear Trying,Stop tap-dancing for someone who's already decided not to clap. You're not imagining this, and you're not being dramatic. Some women absolutely do hate other women, especially younger ones, and it's usually because they're projecting their own insecurities about aging, relevance, or missed opportunities onto your unsuspecting face.Here's what you're going to do: document everything. Every dismissive comment, every impossible deadline, every time she treats you differently than your colleagues. Keep it factual, keep it dated, and keep it detailed. You're not playing victim—you're collecting evidence.Then stop trying to win her over. Seriously. No more coffee runs, no more staying late to prove your worth, no more performing the "cool, agreeable girl" routine. Do your job well, be professional, and let her weirdness be her problem, not yours.If it gets worse, you have options: HR, her boss, or finding a new team within the company. But first, try showing up as yourself instead of as a people-pleasing machine. Sometimes the only way to deal with a bully is to stop giving them the reaction they're looking for.LETTER 4Dear Bitch Fest,Okay, so I don't have a problem, but I can't fucking stand when people put their phone on speaker or FaceTime in public. It bugs the shit out of me. I don't care to hear about other people's conversations. People need to be more considerate of others around them. No, I'm not a Karen, but fuck, I feel like I'm getting there... lol—Almost KarenDear Almost Karen,Welcome to the club, baby. Population: everyone who's ever been trapped on public transport listening to someone's entire family drama unfold at maximum volume. You're not becoming a Karen—you're becoming someone with boundaries, and there's a difference.Here's the thing: people who blast their personal business in public spaces are the same people who think the world is their living room. They genuinely don't understand that the rest of us didn't sign up to be extras in their life documentary. It's not malicious; it's just breathtakingly self-absorbed.The real tragedy? These phone-blasters have somehow convinced themselves they're being "authentic" and "real" by turning every grocery store aisle into their personal therapy session. Meanwhile, you're standing there trying to pick out yogurt while learning intimate details about someone's UTI symptoms.You have three options: invest in noise-canceling headphones and join the rest of us in our protective bubbles, master the art of the pointed stare (works about 20% of the time), or embrace your inner petty and start loudly commenting on their conversation like you're providing live commentary. "Ooh, she should definitely dump him!"Just remember: wanting basic courtesy in shared spaces doesn't make you a Karen. It makes you someone who understands that civilization is held together by the thin thread of people not being complete assholes to each other.LETTER 5Dear Bitch Fest,I'm 29 and just found out I'm pregnant with my first kid. I'm excited, but I'm also terrified about what this means for my career. I work in marketing at a tech startup, and while they talk a big game about "work-life balance," I've watched two other women basically disappear after having babies. One got "restructured" out during her mat leave, and the other came back to find her responsibilities had been "redistributed." My manager keeps making jokes about how I'll "probably want to take it easy now" and asking if I'm "still committed to the big projects." I haven't even told them my due date yet. How do I protect myself without looking like I'm expecting special treatment?—Pregnant and ParanoidDear Pregnant and Paranoid,Welcome to the fucked-up world of pregnancy discrimination, where companies hang motivational posters about "supporting working mothers" while quietly pushing pregnant women toward the exit. Your paranoia isn't paranoia—it's pattern recognition, and you're absolutely right to be worried.First, start documenting everything immediately. Every "joke" about taking it easy, every comment about your commitment, every meeting you suddenly stop getting invited to. Keep a paper trail that would make a lawyer weep with joy. Email yourself summaries of conversations, save texts, screenshot everything. You're not being dramatic—you're being smart.Here's what your manager's "jokes" actually are: illegal interview questions disguised as casual conversation. They're fishing for information about your plans while pretending to be supportive. Don't take the bait. When they ask about your commitment to projects, respond with something like, "I'm fully committed to delivering excellent work, just like I always have." Keep it professional and give them nothing to twist later.The unfortunate reality is that pregnancy discrimination is rampant, especially in tech startups that love to talk about disruption but can't figure out basic human decency. Your company's track record speaks louder than their diversity statements. But here's the thing: knowledge is power, and you now know exactly what you're dealing with.Talk to an employment lawyer now, not after something goes wrong. Many will give you a free consultation to understand your rights and options. Know your provincial employment standards inside and out. Connect with other working mothers in your industry—they've navigated this bullshit before and can be invaluable allies.And remember: you're not asking for special treatment by expecting not to be discriminated against. You're asking for basic human rights and legal protections. The fact that this feels revolutionary says everything about how broken the system is, not about your expectations.A Note from the EditorThe inbox is overflowing with your workplace nightmares, family drama, dating disasters, and general life chaos, and honestly? I'm here for all of it. Your willingness to share the real, unfiltered truth about your lives is what makes this column worth reading. Before we go any further, let me be crystal clear: I am not a therapist, counselor, or any kind of licensed mental health professional. My advice should be taken with a massive grain of salt and the understanding that what works for one person's dumpster fire might not work for yours. If you're dealing with serious mental health issues or abuse, please seek help from qualified professionals who actually know what they're talking about.What I can offer is perspective, solidarity, and the occasional reality check delivered with zero filter. Think of this as advice from your most brutally honest friend—the one who loves you enough to tell you when you're being ridiculous and supports you enough to help you burn it all down when necessary. If you have something to bitch about, contact us at info@jeopublishing.com.
"I'm proudly a recovered alcoholic and I'm no longer going to feel ashamed. Shame will kill us - it almost killed me."Jenn Harper had been selling seafood for over a decade when three little Indigenous girls covered in lip gloss changed everything. The dream came in January 2015, just two months into her sobriety—brown skin, rosy cheeks, giggling and laughing while covered in colorful gloss. When she woke up, she wrote down what would become the business plan for Cheekbone Beauty."It was so real to me that building a cosmetics company was the next thing on my path," Harper reflects. "It's crazy when I think about it now—I'm embarrassed about how much I didn't know about this industry."What she didn't know could fill a warehouse: product development, supply chains, ingredients, retail merchandising, the crushing competitiveness of beauty. What she did know was this: a brand representing Indigenous people deserved to exist in the world.Ten years later, that naive conviction has built something unprecedented—the first B Corp certified Indigenous beauty brand to hit Sephora shelves, a company that's donated over $250,000 to Indigenous communities, and a new category Harper calls "Indigenous Beauty" that puts sustainability and cultural values at its core.But the real revolution? How Harper transformed the same addictive patterns that nearly destroyed her life into the obsessive focus that built an empire.When Shame Nearly Killed Her"I'm proudly a recovered alcoholic, and I'm no longer going to feel ashamed," Harper says with the directness that's become her trademark. "Shame will kill us—it almost killed me."Harper's battle with alcoholism lasted years, marked by rehab attempts, relapses, and a marriage hanging by a thread. In 2014, her husband delivered an ultimatum: get sober or he was leaving. It was the first time in their marriage he'd drawn that line."I had this moment of surrender. I had to believe truly that I could get well," she explains. The timing wasn't coincidental—2015 was also when Canada's Truth and Reconciliation Commission released its report on residential schools, finally giving Harper language for the generational trauma that had shaped her family."I used to believe I was just this person who comes from a completely dysfunctional family—we're just screwed up people," she admits. "Then I learned that this was systematically designed to take down a culture."Her grandmother had been taken from their community at six years old, forced into residential school until sixteen, beaten for speaking their language. Suddenly, Harper's family dysfunction had context—and a path to healing.Replacing One Addiction With AnotherTraditional recovery wisdom warns against substituting addictions, but Harper had a different plan. "I became obsessed with building this business, and maybe as an addict with an addict's brain, I'll never be fully healed from that in this life. But how can I use that power of obsession for doing something good versus destroying my life?"She admits the approach isn't typical AA advice, but it worked. Harper channeled her addictive patterns into something constructive: reading over a hundred books on entrepreneurship and Indigenous culture, diving deep into formulations and supply chains, obsessing over every detail of building a sustainable beauty company."That you can climb any mountain and get to the top," Harper says when asked what sobriety taught her about business. "You really can't see it unless you can see it—that line is so important for people from BIPOC communities. If you didn't see yourself represented out there, how are you supposed to think you can do those things?"Building Indigenous Beauty From NothingWhat Harper calls "Indigenous Beauty" isn't just marketing—it's a fundamental reimagining of how beauty products should be made. Where Korean beauty focuses on skincare and French beauty means perfume and red lipstick, Indigenous beauty centers sustainability and connection to the earth."Indigenous people have truly lived and breathed sustainability since the beginning of time," Harper explains. "We want to add that into how we make and create our products."At Cheekbone, that means formulas that actually biodegrade back into ecosystems, sustainably sourced packaging, and transparencyabout every ingredient. Harper spent years studying formulations to replace conventional ingredients with biodegradable alternatives—swapping propylene glycol for propendol, using only post-consumer recycled plastic, creating products that can serve multiple purposes."The truth is, true sustainability means we buy nothing and use what we have," Harper acknowledges. "We're still a consumer-based business. But can we do it so that the choice someone's making is a better choice they can feel good about?"The Cost of RepresentationHarper's drive for visibility became even more urgent after losing her brother BJ to suicide. "When you lose someone to suicide, you really spend a lot of time thinking about the what-ifs," she says quietly. "What I learned from my brother is that he really felt represented in these last few years. He would send me messages about Indigenous people on red carpets or athletes coming up."Those messages became proof of representation's power—and its absence's danger. Harper knows the statistics: Indigenous communities face suicide rates far above national averages, often linked to disconnection and lack of belonging."You really can't be it unless you can see it," Harper repeats. "For me, being able to represent our communities and help them see that entrepreneurship is an option—if I can figure it out and I wasn't a great student, I didn't have a university degree—if I can do this, they can too."Revolution, Not ActivismHarper's approach to change differs from traditional activism. "I feel like going and yelling at someone with a sign is never going to change their heart," she explains. "We need activists for many things, but I believe the way I love to connect with people is: can we change people's hearts?"Instead of protests, Harper builds. Cheekbone's scholarship fund has deployed 30 scholarships since 2021. Two percent of all revenue goes to Indigenous education initiatives year-round, with special Orange Shirt Day campaigns raising additional funds."We use the system," Harper says of their Orange Shirt Day strategy. "People arethinking about those things on that day, so of course we're using it. The algorithm of the world works on days now—if you're not speaking to the big things happening, no one cares because no one's going to see it."The approach extends to retail partnerships. When Sephora committed to Harper's "Glossed Over" campaign—featuring lip glosses named "Luscious Lead" and "E. Coli Kiss" to highlight water crises in Indigenous communities—it gave profits from Cheekbone sales to water treatment organizations."Sephora is really great—they take risks in that way," Harper notes. "They're truly the heroes in that story because they used their platform, and that's not easy to do on a bigger scale."The Real Beauty IndustryHarper envisions an industry transformation that goes beyond Indigenous representation. "Real people, no more editorial stuff," she says when asked what would make beauty actually beautiful. "We deserve to see real people wearing the products with real skin imperfections, acne, textured skin, hair on their face—let's just be real about it."It's a radical vision in an industry built on manufactured insecurity, but Harper's betting consumers are ready. As the first B Corp certified cosmetic brand in Sephora, Cheekbone legally prioritizes people and planet over profit—paying living wages, providing mental health benefits, and taking company-wide mental health weeks."Everyone at Cheekbone makes over a living wage for the area of the world they live in," Harper explains. "We take a whole week off every summer as an entire business so that it's a real mental health break for the entire company."What Her Grandmother Would ThinkWhen asked what her grandmother would think of seeing Cheekbone in Sephora, Harper pauses. "I think she would be proud. We're a humble group of people, a humble nation. We don't do the bragging thing—it's cultural. But there would be a lot of joy and happiness because I'm her granddaughter."That humility runs through everything Harper builds. Despite Cheekbone's success—Sephora shelves, B Corp certification, six-figure donations—she insists they're just getting started."I literally feel like we're just getting started," she says of the ten-year journey. "Over the last two years is finally when I feel like we've built something that's going to have value and matter."The Revolution ContinuesHarper's vision extends beyond Cheekbone to building an Indigenous beauty conglomerate—acquiring skincare brands, hair care lines, creating an entire ecosystem centered on Indigenous values and sustainable practices.“Cheekbone pioneered a category we call Indigenous Beauty," she explains. "What we intend to do is build this with that long view in mind."For women watching Harper's journey—especially those with their own healing to do—her message is clear: "I am no longer going to feel ashamed. If we've made past mistakes, big ones or small ones, you have to remove that shame part of it. Anyone can turn their lives around at any given moment."It's advice born from experience, spoken by someone who turned rock bottom into revolutionary business, addiction into empire-building, and personal healing into community transformation."If your heart's in something, there's nothing that can stop you from reaching that goal," Harper concludes. "I have regrets, many, many regrets. But shame will kill us. And I refuse to let shame win."Harper's story represents a new generation of Indigenous entrepreneurs building businesses that honor their heritage while challenging industry standards. As Orange Shirt Day approaches this September, her work reminds us that real reconciliation happens not through performative gestures, but through sustained action, authentic representation, and the radical act of building something beautiful from the ground up.When Jenn Harper talks about changing hearts instead of holding signs, she's describing a partnership that puts real money behind Indigenous education. For four years, Cheekbone Beauty has worked with Indspire, Canada's largest Indigenous-led registered charity, transforming lip gloss sales into life-changing scholarships."They're the one that we do our scholarship fund in collaboration with," Harper explains. "They're a not-for-profit, we're a for-profit business, so we get them to do all of our scholarship fund work."The partnership makes perfect sense: Harper brings platform and profits, while Indspire brings three decades of experience. Since 1996, Indspire has distributed over $200 million in scholarships to more than 54,000 Indigenous students across Canada.The collaboration has deployed 30 scholarships since 2021, with Cheekbone contributing 2% of all revenue year-round to their "For Future Generations Scholarship Fund." During Orange Shirt Day campaigns, that jumps to 100% of profits after operational costs."This year will be the fourth year," Harper notes. "The people at Cheekbone love their jobs because everything we do is about supporting and giving back to the community."What makes this powerful isn't just money—it's visibility. Harper's Orange Shirt Day campaigns educate consumers about funding gaps, systemic barriers, and why Indigenous education matters. Her customers learn while they shop."Education is powerful," Harper emphasizes. "Whatever path a young person can choose, it's going to help."Indspire's approach aligns with Harper's philosophy. Rather than charity creating dependency, they provide tools for self-determination. Scholarships support everything from trades programs to PhD studies, recognizing that Indigenous communities need leaders in every field.Harper's story—building a multi-million dollar company without a university degree—proves success comes in many forms. But systemic change requires Indigenous people in boardrooms, courtrooms, research labs, and government offices."Meeting people that have been impacted—they're a beautiful organization, and people should be supporting them in every which way they can," Harper says.The partnership creates a feedback loop: Cheekbone's success generates scholarship funding, which creates Indigenous graduates, who become role models for the next generation—the representation Harper wishes she'd had growing up ashamed of her identity.This isn't charity for charity's sake. Harper sees education funding as business strategy, community building, and cultural preservation. Every scholarship recipient represents potential future leadership and entrepreneurship."It's all about what are we doing here for the next generations," Harper explains. "That's part of our complete ethos as a brand."As Cheekbone grows into an Indigenous beauty conglomerate, the Indspire partnership ensures success lifts the entire community. It's capitalism with conscience, business as resistance, and proof that revolution can happen one scholarship at a time.
Patric Gagné doesn't need her kids to love her back. She's okay with that. Are we?Patric Gagné cuts her kids' peanut butter sandwiches into stars and whales. She makes Christmas magical even though she hates it. She shows up for bedtime stories, tantrums, and bullies. But here's the kicker—she does it without the emotional fuel most of us run on. She's a diagnosed sociopath. And she's one of the most fascinating, disarming, and deeply human mothers I've ever interviewed.This isn't a hot take on TikTok psychopathy or a glorified redemption arc. This is someone telling the truth about what it's like to parent without the typical emotional wiring—and still doing the damn thing. I first reached out to Patric because her memoir Sociopath hit me in the gut. Not because I saw a monster. But because I saw a parent navigating the same chaos I was—just using a different map. What followed was one of the most honest, unfiltered conversations I've ever had with anyone."I told my kids they don't have to love me." That line stopped me cold. I asked her if she meant it literally—like, had she actually said those words to her children? "Yes," she said without hesitation. "We've had long conversations about love, and I've told them it should always be additive. You should never feel obligated to love anyone. Even me."It's not rejection. It's radical self-honesty. And it challenges every sappy Mother's Day card, every feel-good sitcom, and every sugarcoated idea we've been sold about what love between parent and child is supposed to look like. But that's the point. Gagné's entire existence challenges the mythology of motherhood—and not in a self-congratulatory way. She's not trying to shock. She's trying to survive. And raise decent humans in the process.The Baby Stage: "I wanted to leave."We talked about those early months of parenting—the dark, sleepless tunnel so many of us have barely crawled out of. I told her I was crying daily, unsure if I'd make it out in one piece. She didn't flinch. "I wanted to kill myself," she admitted. "Not because of them—but because I thought something was wrong with me for not bonding."She had hoped, deep down, that motherhood would unlock something in her. Some primal instinct. Some feral maternal love. But it didn't. And that realization broke her heart in a way she couldn't quite describe. She wasn't angry at her children. She was angry at herself for believing she could be like everyone else. "I was a fool to have thought I could have bonded that way," she said. "I should have been more realistic with myself and said, 'Hey, it's not going to be what it's like for everybody else, just like nothing in your life has been. It's going to be different. But you'll get there.'"The difference between her experience and mine? She had a partner she could tap out to. "Unlike you, I had the benefit of a partner that I could say, 'Here you go. I got to tap out.'"Parenting Without the ScriptWe don't talk enough about what happens when your kids trigger parts of you that have never fully healed. Or never existed. Patric doesn't fake maternal warmth to keep up appearances with other parents. She fakes it when her kids need it from her. "Not so much anymore—they're older," she said. "But when they were younger and needed comfort I couldn't access authentically, I gave them what they needed anyway."When I asked what it feels like to watch her kids sleep, she answered without hesitation: "Relief." Not joy. Not aching love. Relief. Because they're okay. Because she can finally rest. That answer gutted me. Not because it was cold—but because it was honest. And how many of us have felt that exact thing, but felt too guilty to say it out loud?But then she surprises you. When her older child witnessed a classmate being bullied for their sexual orientation and stood up for them, Patric had one of her proudest moments. "I told him, 'You have no idea how much that means to that kid. It really means the world to a kid who feels all alone to have another kid say, stop doing that. That's not kind. And you're being a dick.' I was really proud of him that he did that."Pride without ego. Protection without possession. It's parenting stripped of performance."I can't care about this."One of my favorite moments came when I asked her how she handles the petty day-to-day dramas that set most parents off. "I just say, 'I can't care about this,'" she said, laughing. "It started as a joke with my friends, and now my kids even say it. Like, 'Mommy, you can't care about this.' And I'm like, 'I really can't. I love you. I do not have the bandwidth for a Fortnight play-by-play. I'm a huge gamer and I actually love Fortnite, but I'm also not interested in a 30 minute rundown."It sounds harsh. But how many of us pretend to care about every scraped knee, every Pokémon card betrayal, every tantrum about the wrong color cup? Patric doesn't pretend. She just shows up with what she's got.For nightmares, she takes what she calls "the easy way out." Instead of processing the dream at 3 AM, she'll say, "That's so scary! Let's talk about it more in the morning," or "The best thing for a nightmare is to replace it with a fresh dream," and bring them into bed with her. "The middle of the night is no time to process a nightmare," she said. "If they still want to talk about it in the morning I'll tell them they have 90 seconds to identify every emotion they felt in the dream. The emotions hold the information and, let's be honest, no one is trying to hear 90 minutes of unconscious recall."Boundaries without guilt. Efficiency without cruelty. It's revolutionary, actually.The Santa Claus RebellionIf you want to understand how Patric's mind works, ask her about Santa Claus. From the time her children were conscious enough to have the conversation, she's been methodically dismantling the myth. "I think Santa Claus is crazy. This whole thing about Santa Claus is insane to me," she told them. When they protested that Santa was real, she'd respond with pure logic: "What's the truth? That a man who wears the same clothes 365 days a year comes down a chimney and leaves presents for you because you're good? So he's breaking and entering?"Her children would push back, insisting Santa arrives by sleigh. "I'm sorry, he comes on what? A sleigh?" She'd continue: "Don't talk to strangers unless it's a man in a red suit promising gifts, in which case get into his lap and whisper your secrets? We're teaching kids about stranger danger, but over here it's okay?"But here's the thing—she still makes Christmas magical. "I really work hard to make Christmas magical for them, because it's not their fault that I have a really hard time at Christmas. It's so hard every year. But I definitely do it for them."Her solution was brilliant: let her children convince her while maintaining her stance. "They would come to me with the stories, and I would say, 'That's bonkers,' and then it's on them to convince me. All along I would say, 'This is insane,' but I will tell you there is something about Christmas that is magical. I don't know what it is, but I know it's not some random guy.""I never wanted to tell them I believed in something I didn't believe in," she explains. "I'd rather my kids know they can always count on me to deal with them honestly, even if it's not as magical as they would like it to be."Radical honesty wrapped in love. It shouldn't work. But it does.When Marriage Meets LogicLiving with someone who processes emotions so differently presents unique challenges. When her Italian husband gets angry and starts raising his voice, Patric's response is clinically precise. "I say, 'You're increasing the volume of your voice, not the clarity of your communication.'" she tells me. "I don't respond to yelling. I don't allow anyone to speak to me this way, and I wouldn't allow anyone to speak to you this way, so you need to take a walk because all I see is someone who is so wrapped up in an emotion tornado I can't reach the person on the inside."It should sound cold. Instead, it sounds like the sanest relationship advice I've ever heard. Her husband, she says, thrived in the baby stage. But Patric prefers the teenage years. "People like us tend to have a much easier time with the teenage years," she explains. "So many people who thrived in the baby stage are ready to pull their hair out in the teenage years. I feel that I'm more equipped to be a teen parent because I can have those conversations—about sex, about violence in schools. I'm very direct. I don't shy away from anything."When it comes to discipline, Patric strips away the emotional drama that usually accompanies consequences. "Actions have consequences. Period," she says. "It's like being an adult—if you want to test the boundaries and get caught, you're not going to be able to have access to the things you want. It's not 'How can you do this to me?' It's more just meeting them where they are."She often lets her children choose their own consequences. "You did something, so what is the consequence? You tell me, because I can choose, but I think it's more effective if you choose your own consequence. They're usually pretty spot on." With her older child, she'll reframe situations by asking what advice he'd give his younger sibling in the same situation. "Is this what I should tell your younger sibling? Is this how you would handle this?" The answer, she says, is always the same: "No."It's accountability without shame. Consequences without manipulation. And it's working.The Boxes of MemoryIn her memoir, Patric writes about a box of stolen childhood trinkets—glasses, small objects that gave her some sense of feeling when everything else felt like nothing. I asked if she still keeps that box. "I do, but it's gotten bigger. So now I have many boxes full of things, and they're not necessarily things that have been stolen so much as they're things that I have from places that I've been where I shouldn't have been."The impulse has evolved but never disappeared. When she travels alone, she notices the old urges. "She's still there, you know. She's like, 'Hey, you wanna go? Do you want to get into it?' It's like, no, I do not want to get into it. It's a conversation that's more playful now."At a recent party, she watched a woman being "such an asshole to the people working the event" and felt the familiar pull toward chaos. "I remember thinking, I'm just gonna grab her purse and throw it in the garbage. She's gonna lose her mind. She's gonna think somebody stole it. All of her stuff's gonna be gone." Her husband intervened quickly. "He definitely interceded very quickly, like 'You're not doing that.' And I was like, 'Well, we aren't doing anything. Just go get the car, Buddy. You don't have to be a part of this.'"Instead, she kicked the woman's purse under a table three tables over. "She did lose her mind and started accusing the staff of stealing it, which just basically outed her for being an even bigger piece of shit than she was."It's vigilante justice without violence. Chaos with a moral compass. And I'm not going to lie—I kind of love it.Love, RedefinedPatric's definition of love doesn't come with fireworks. It's not desperate or possessive. It's mutualism. "Organic. Additive. Mutual homeostasis," she said. "Not transactional. Not ego-driven. Just two people benefiting from each other's presence."When her children accomplish something—good grades, first steps, small victories—she celebrates differently than most parents. "I'm happy for them. I'm proud of them. But pride is something that's egocentric, isn't it? So many people who have a lot of pride also take it as a reflection of them, like 'Look at what a good parent I am because my kid got an A.' I'm proud for them, proud of them, but it has nothing to do with me."She adds, "You can be diagnosed with secondary psychopathy and still love. You can love differently—and still make it count."Honestly? It sounds like a better kind of love than most people ever get.Of course, the part of her story that makes people recoil—the pencil-stabbing, the animal cruelty—can't be sanitized away. When I asked what those moments felt like, she said, "Relief. It was like I could finally stop masking. It was my way of saying, 'This is who I am.'" She doesn't excuse the behavior. She doesn't romanticize it. She just doesn't connect to it emotionally the way neurotypical people do. And that's what terrifies people.But that's also why this story matters. Because when we treat sociopathy like a horror movie diagnosis—something you either are or aren't, something inherently evil—we lose the nuance. We lose the opportunity for understanding. For intervention. For treatment.She's Not Asking for ForgivenessPatric doesn't want you to like her. She's not asking for redemption. She's not looking to be fixed. She's just telling the truth. "I don't need an excuse to be an asshole," she told me. "If I'm in a dark place and I act out, I act out. There should be consequences. But I don't feel guilt about it."Her diagnosis doesn't excuse harm. But it does explain how she moves through the world. And she's spent years unlearning harmful behaviors—not because she "feels bad," but because she understands what's right. There's something both terrifying and refreshing about someone who takes responsibility without the emotional theater that usually accompanies it.The Privilege to HealShe's the first to acknowledge that if she weren't white, articulate, and conventionally attractive, this story might have ended very differently. "There are thousands of kids with the same traits I had—oppositional defiant disorder, conduct disorder—but they don't get access to treatment. They get kicked out of school. Thrown into the system. Labeled as bad kids. But these are treatable conditions. We just don't fund the solutions."She cites staggering statistics: "Conduct disorder affects roughly 10% of girls and 16% of boys. Its symptoms, such as stealing and deliberate acts of violence, are among the most common reasons for treatment. And yet there's no testing for them or markers for them like there are for autism."This isn't abstract for her. This is the knowledge that hundreds of thousands of children are cycling through systems designed to punish rather than heal. Children who could be helped. Children who could become functional adults, partners, parents. Children who could become her.The Origin MysteryPerhaps the most significant revelation comes when Patric drops a bombshell about her condition's origins: "I was not born this way." She's discovered something about the environmental factors that shaped her—specifically, "having been exposed to psychopathic practices at a very young age." Her response to this discovery? "Relief, fury, and clinical curiosity."But she's not ready to elaborate. "I need to do more research," she says. If her research proves what she suspects, it could revolutionize how we understand and treat sociopathy. It could shift the conversation from "monster or not monster" to "how do we prevent this from happening to other children?" For now, she's keeping that discovery close to her chest. But the implications are staggering.So What Do Her Kids Think?"They've never asked why I'm different," she said. "Because I've always been honest. I've told them, 'Mommy doesn't experience emotions like that. So sometimes I won't understand what you're feeling. But that's okay. You can talk to Daddy.'"When her children heard some of the backlash against her book, their response was pure confusion. "They're like, 'I don't understand. Why are people angry? Why are they saying things like that?' They can't wrap their head around it."Her children aren't confused about their mother. The rest of us are confused about what motherhood is supposed to look like.The Uncomfortable TruthThis is not a "look how far she's come" piece. This is a "look how she lives anyway" piece. Patric Gagné isn't trying to be your role model. She's not trying to win you over. But she is asking you to consider that parenting doesn't always have to be soaked in guilt, martyrdom, and emotional exhaustion. Maybe it can also be about logic. Consistency. Showing up. Giving your kids the truth, even when it's not pretty.We love to say that "there's no one way to be a good parent." But we rarely mean it. We say it, then judge every choice that doesn't look like our own. Patric Gagné is here to remind us that the love we think is universal—that overwhelming, consuming, sometimes destructive devotion—might not be the only way to raise whole human beings.You can love differently and still make it count. And maybe that's what makes her the most honest mother of all.If you or someone you know is struggling with thoughts of self-harm, please reach out to a mental health professional or crisis helpline. If you suspect a child may be showing signs of conduct disorder or other behavioral concerns, early intervention can make a significant difference."I am a criminal without a record. I am a master of disguise. I have never been caught. I have rarely been sorry. I am friendly. I am responsible. I am invisible. I blend right in. I am a twenty‑first‑century sociopath."Patric Gagne’s Sociopath is one of those books that leaves you sitting in silence long after the last page—equal parts disturbed, cracked open, and weirdly comforted. She doesn’t sugar-coat a thing. From childhood violence to emotional emptiness, Gagne holds nothing back, and somehow in that void, you feel everything. It’s not a plea for pity. It’s a dissection of what it means to perform humanity when you don’t feel it—and the loneliness that comes with that mask. And while the motherhood stuff is only touched on in the epilogue, what lands is the deep, unspoken ache for connection. This book made me question what we call empathy, what we judge as broken, and who gets to heal. It’s haunting in the best way. Get your copy here.
My childhood summers were spent with my grandparents in a small Italian town where time stood still. Every afternoon after lunch, my grandfather would grab his wooden chair, place it under an olive tree, and sit, becoming one with the stillness of the hot summer landscape and the clicking chorus of cicadas.I waited for him to do something. He just sat there, looking at nothing in particular. "Nonno, ma che fai?" I finally asked. Granddad, what are you doing? He turned to me and answered, "Sitting."At the time I figured he didn't understand the question. I didn't understand what he was doing. Not then. Not for years.In 2019, my eight-year-old daughter and I discovered a café in Saint-Germain near the apartment we were staying at. We would go early in the morning for breakfast before starting our day in La Ville Lumière. Annalise, our server, found my daughter's obsession with pain au chocolat amusing and by day 3 she already had one warm and waiting as we walked through the door. We sat by the window and watched the city wake up—the flower vendor arranging roses, the man who always stopped to let his dog drink from the water bowl outside. On our last morning, Annalise hugged us both, pressed a parting pain au chocolat into my little girl's hands, and said she hoped to see us again soon. My daughter unexpectedly threw her arms around the young server, hugging her as if she were leaving someone she had known her whole life rather than just a week.This wasn't how I'd planned our Paris trip. It became something better.The New Luxury: TimeThere's a word for what my grandfather did under his tree: il dolce far niente, the sweetness of doing nothing. In our age of FOMO travel, we collect destinations like stamps in a passport-sized achievement book. Paris: check. Istanbul: check. Machu Picchu: check. We have every day planned out, itineraries mapped out, cooking classes scheduled, reservations booked months in advance to all those restaurants that keep popping up on our Instagram feed—oh, and don't forget the three different beaches you absolutely cannot miss according to every travel blogger who's ever existed. We are very efficient at seeing places. Terrible at actually being in them. You're exhausted. In paradise.By the time you collapse into your airplane seat for the flight home, you need a vacation from your vacation. You spend the first three days back recuperating from what was supposed to restore you, scrolling through hundreds of photos to pick the ones that will be perfect for that reel you are going to post to let everyone see how good a time you had. But did you actually enjoy any of those meticulously planned experiences?Then it's back to the routine—work, obligations, the mechanical rhythm of daily life, and all the while you plan your next escape from where you just escaped from.But something is shifting. Travellers are beginning to reject the crammed must-see bucket list in favor of what some now call the joy of missing out travel—though my grandfather would have simply called it living.It's harder than it sounds. We're programmed for productivity, even in paradise. That voice in your head listing all the things you should be seeing, doing, experiencing. The guilt of flying halfway around the world to sit in a café you could find in your own city.But here's what I've learned: You can spend a week in Paris and see everything while experiencing nothing. Or you can know one café, one park, one street so well that a piece of your heart stays there.The New Luxury: TimeWhen I work with clients planning trips, I try to build in what I call "free time." Entire afternoons with nothing scheduled. No reservations, just go out and discover or literally do nothing. Without fail, these spontaneous moments become their most vivid and treasured memories: the restaurant they stumbled upon, the conversation with locals at a neighborhood bar, the afternoon walking through cobblestone streets without a map.Even the travel world is catching on. Hotels are reimagining luxury as time rather than activities—slow cruises where the journey matters more than checking off ports, train routes through Tuscany where you watch landscapes change gradually with wine in hand, spa retreats where "sleep programs" make doing nothing the entire point. You're not observing local life through a bus window; you're temporarily invited to be part of a community.This pushes against everything we normally do when we travel. It asks us to be present in a new place rather than productive in it. The real test of travel isn't how many sights you've seen, but whether the place changed how you see. My grandfather, sitting under his olive tree every afternoon, understood something we've forgotten in our rush to experience everything: Presence is the ultimate luxury, whether you're in Paris or your own backyard.Creating your own Dolce Far NienteDon't get me wrong. This isn't about throwing your schedule out the window and wandering aimlessly. It's about creating space for the sweetness of life even while travelling. It's about stopping to enjoy those little moments where you lean into your chair, coffee cupped between your hands, and sit with the moment.Instead of accumulating experiences like trading cards, let's lean into what feels good, not what looks good on Instagram. Spend a week in Tuscany picking olives and having dinner with a family at the end of the day on a farm. Choose a neighborhood and learn its rhythms. Have your morning coffee at the same café. These small routines create connection and transform you from tourist to temporary resident. Walk instead of taking taxis. The in-between moments often hold the most magic.We may not always have the luxury of long stays at our destination, but even then, we can find a pocket of presence. One unhurried morning, or a meal without checking the time.But here's the real question: What happens when we return home? As we settle into fall routines—school drop-offs, work deadlines, soccer practice, parent-teacher conferences. Can we maintain this practice of presence?The answer lies not in overhauling our schedules but in finding our own versions of my grandfather's tree. It's finding those pockets of stillness. Maybe it's five minutes with your morning coffee standing outside to enjoy the silent stillness of a city stillasleep before checking emails. Perhaps it's sitting in your car for a moment before heading into the office, or simply standing at your kitchen window, watching the leaves change colour.Since Paris, my daughter now asks for "pain au chocolat mornings" at home—our code for unhurried weekend breakfasts.I never got a chance to tell my grandfather I finally understood what he was doing under that tree. But sometimes, when I manage to sit still long enough to hear my own breathing, to notice the light through the window, to feel the weight of the mug in my hands—I can almost see him there. Still sitting. Still teaching me, decades later, that the sweetness isn't in doing nothing.It's in being present enough to taste it.il dolce fare niente.Angela Marotta, CEO and founder of Marotta Travel, is a travel designer with three decades of experience in the travel industry, having spent most of her career living and working in Italy and Mexico. Her mission today is to provide uniquely tailored travel experiences with purpose.
How Joanna Johnson built a revolution from the wreckage of everything she thought she knewThe revolution wasn't supposed to start with TikTok dances.Joanna Johnson was lip-syncing to "Jesse's Got a Gun" in her empty house, buying guitars she couldn't play, performing for strangers on an app she didn't understand. Her friends were calling to check if she was having a breakdown. She was 44, recently divorced, trapped in lockdown, and according to every metric that had previously defined her life, completely lost."My friends were calling me, making sure I wasn't having a physical, emotional breakdown," she laughs, remembering those early pandemic days. "They kept asking, 'What is going on, Joanna?' What they were seeing—and I didn't know it then—was very much a level of authenticity."Three years later, that "breakdown" has become a movement. The Ajax, Ontario educator now has over 3 million followers who look to @unlearn16 for wisdom about identity, authenticity, and the courage to rebuild your life from scratch. Her memoir, "That's Not What This Book Is About," is a number one bestseller. She's a keynote speaker, a school vice principal, and—most surprisingly to her—someone millions of people turn to when they need permission to become who they really are.But here's what makes Joanna different from every other inspiration-peddling influencer: she's brutally honest about the fact that she's still figuring it out.The Perfect StormThe path to viral educator began with what Joanna calls "three things occurring at the moment in time to create the perfect storm: Divorce, COVID lockdown, and Charlie, my best friend's kid, persuading me to download the app."The divorce came first. After years of what she now recognizes as dimming herself—"not being the center of the room, not being the person on stage, just carrying the stuff, being in the background"—her marriage ended. But the real end, the soul moment, came later."There was a moment that I stopped being her person," she says, her voice quieting. "She would call often, especially very late at night, very upset, questioning, needing support, and there was a moment that I had the awareness to say, 'I'm not your person anymore.'"It was 3 AM. A friend had told her she was still only "75% out" of the relationship. "That was the moment I knew that if I continue trying to save you—I'm never going to be the person that I need to be. And even worse, I'm never going to—even if you wanted me to save you—I can't. One person can't save another."What's remarkable is how little of herself she had to grieve. "I had been packing away myself for a good chunk of that relationship. I'd been just dimming it, right? As soon as you have to go somewhere and be less to make them feel better..." She trails off, then adds with characteristic directness: "I wasn't being myself at all. I was limiting who I was, and by limiting who I was, I was standing still."Standing still wasn't an option during lockdown. Alone in her house with nowhere to go and no one to dim herself for, Joanna had to face who she actually was. Social media became an unlikely laboratory for authenticity."I accidentally said something about Doug Ford," she recalls. "Literally, I just blurted it out, and then people were responding. They were laughing and saying, 'Oh my God, you're so bang on!' That's when I realized people want to talk about things authentically."The platform grew because Joanna brought something radical to social media: the willingness to admit she didn't have all the answers while still standing firmly in her truth. Her approach to bigotry and hate comments reveals this perfectly."You can't talk to hate, but I assure you, ignorance can be educated," she explains. When trolls comment about her appearance or sexuality, she responds with curiosity rather than defensiveness. "People ask, 'How do you keep your cool?' I say, 'I just don't care. Here’s a guy that spelled ‘their’ wrong wrong. What do I care about this guy?'"But it's not sociopathy—it's privilege, and she knows it. "I've had the luxury of living a privileged life in the sense that it's not that I've never experienced homophobia or roadblocks, but nothing horrific. I'm not carrying trauma. So when people authentically ask, 'Are you a boy or a girl?' I can authentically have that conversation without it triggering something significant."The Teaching ParadoxHere's where it gets complicated: How do you teach kids to be authentic when you're still figuring out who the hell you are?"You lead with that, don't you?" Joanna says without hesitation. "You lead with 'I don't know.'"After 23 years of teaching, she's learned that the education system has it backwards. "I try to tell kids—do things that scare you, do things you're not good at, because those are the things that are really going to highlight when you have to dig down. If I was good at math, just taking math course after math course teaches me nothing. Being afraid but doing it anyway—that's going to teach you something."She practices what she preaches. Five years ago, after decades of refusing, she finally agreed to be in a school play. "I've never been so scared in my entire life ever," she admits. "The best part was I had students that I was teaching strategies to study history, calming me down and helping me go through a completely different skill set."The LGBTQ+ advocacy that has become central to her platform works the same way. She's not trying to convert anyone or have dramatic coming-out conversations with students. Instead, she exists openly, loudly, authentically—"a visual example of somebody living very openly, very loudly, very 'call me whatever you want, just as long as you compliment my hair'—so that they can see that when they go down their authentic road, they can have a good, happy, healthy life."When millions of people look to you for guidance, what happens when you don't feel wise?"Every day," Joanna laughs. "What happens when I don't feel wise? Every day."But here's her secret: "As soon as you know that you know nothing, I think there's a comfort in it. I think the wisdom comes from understanding you have relatively nothing on lock, but you're willing to try everything."This Socratic approach extends to her online presence, where she navigates the impossible balance between authentic and performative. "I am performative. If I wasn't, I couldn't be a teacher," she acknowledges. "You don't get the message across unless you keep somebody's attention. If I don't keep a 16-year-old's attention, I don't care—it doesn't matter what knowledge I have in my head."The difference is intention. On TikTok, every gesture is amplified because she's trying to hold attention for four or five minutes. On live streams, she's more natural because there's back-and-forth conversation. But the core message remains the same: be willing to be scared and do it anyway.Love After SupermanThe hardest comment Joanna receives isn't about her appearance or politics—it's when the right wing successfully conflates LGBTQ+ advocacy with the term "groomer.""Everybody has a guttural reaction—you want to throw up when you think about people taking advantage of or manipulating kids. And they've done such a horrifically good job at binding the two together that it makes it very hard to operate in that space."She refuses to repost such comments, even to discredit them, because "then you're adding to it." Instead, she focuses on what she can control: being an example and having authentic conversations when possible.This approach extends to her personal life. After years of playing "Superman" in her marriage—swooping in to rescue and fix—she had to learn an entirely different way to love when she met Ana."I luckily met somebody who didn't need nor want me to save them," she explains. "Ana said, 'No, no, I don't need you to do that. That's me. I'll take care of me. You take care of you.' We've had to have more than one conversation like that where I realized, 'Oh, my value doesn't come from making sure you're okay because you're making sure you're okay.'"The realization was profound: "If I would have met the wrong person, I would be in the exact same loop."What terrifies someone who has rebuilt their entire life? "Failing," Joanna says simply. But not in the way you might think.As a vice principal, she carries the weight of wanting to help every student who walks through her door. "I tend to try to think, probably sometimes with a little bit of hubris, that I can help. And I always fear that one kid that I can't."Her office reflects this philosophy—movie posters, pop culture references, things that make people feel comfortable enough to be real. "The more we can connect through those kinds of stories, the more authentic the relationship is."But success? She already feels like she's made it. "I'm good now," she says with characteristic directness. Though she has one big goal left: filling Massey Hall with people who want to have the kinds of authentic, difficult, necessary conversations that social media has proven people are hungry for.The UnlearningFor readers who feel stuck, who look at their lives and think "this isn't working but I don't know how to burn it down," Joanna has surprising advice: Don't."I don't know if I'd start with burning it down. I'd start with one thing—one thing that you want to do that you're terrified to do. It could be an acting class, it could be scuba diving, it could be writing a book. You start engaging in it in an authentic way. You don't have to burn everything down because everything else will just fall away."The key is recognizing what you've been carrying that was never yours to carry. "We need to recognize that you have to stop carrying that. You have to figure out -what can I put down? My 14-year-old can get their own lunch. I can go do the art class. We don't have to do everything together."Because here's the truth she's learned: "You can't make other people happy. You can't fulfill other people. You can't make other people feel whole and powerful. You can only do that for you. And the more you do that for you, people around you will say, 'Oh shit, I want that. I'm going to do that.'"If all of it disappeared tomorrow—the followers, the speaking engagements, the platform—what would remain of who Joanna really is?"It would all remain," she says without hesitation. "The connections that I've made, the idea that I could go into any business, shake hands with any person at this point, never feel that I was out of place, never feel that I couldn't belong—that would remain. The idea that I'll be scared but I'll do it anyway. That, I hope, stays."This is what makes Joanna's story so powerful: it's not about finding yourself through external validation. It's about finally stopping the performance of being less than you are and discovering that who you've always been is enough.Her book isn't really about the stories from her childhood, though they're there. It's not about becoming a viral sensation, though that happened. It's about the moment when you stop being who you think you should be and start being who you actually are.And sometimes, just sometimes, the world is ready for exactly that person."That's not what this book is about," she says, grinning. "But maybe that's exactly what this life is about."
I'm sitting across from Lilly Vona at Bar Locale just days before opening, and even in this final preparation stage, you can feel the energy she and partner Frank Facciponte have built into this space. The music system is being tested, the bar is being stocked, and small plates are being perfected in the kitchen. It's exactly the sophisticated yet genuinely fun atmosphere they envisioned when they first laid eyes on this landmark location.Between the Covers: So you're about to open. How does it feel to see your vision finally coming to life?Lilly: It's incredible. This has been something I've always wanted to do. Through my travels, all through my young life, at home when my parents were big entertainers—this is what I've always enjoyed. Sharing plates, small plates, it's collaborative. It invites social connection. Food is so many things to so many people, but at the end of the day, it's family, it's love, it's culture.BTC: So what made Newmarket the right fit for this concept?Lilly: Actually, Newmarket wasn't even on our radar initially. We were actively looking at locations in midtown Toronto when we got approached to look at this property. It's a town-owned landmark location, and we only had one hour to view the space before deciding if we wanted to go through the whole RFP process—business plan, presentation, financials, the works. But honestly, the moment we saw it, we knew. And then when we learned about Main Street's accolades and what this community has built, we got really excited about being part of both the community and the business community here. It's such a unique opportunity to be in a landmark location that has this incredible heritage and significance to the town.BTC: You and Frank are business partners AND life partners. How do you not kill each other when the restaurant is having a shit day?Lilly: laughs We're both Geminis, so we're like the nicest four people you'll ever meet! But Geminis make exciting lovers, exciting partners. Exciting doesn't always mean easy—it's intense sometimes. We play hard, we work hard, we love hard. It's just who we are. And somehow through this crazy life we live, we raised three of the most amazing, well-balanced young men. That's my proudest achievement.BTC: What's been the biggest learning curve in expanding to three locations?Lilly: Learning to step back and trust our team. It took years—me and Frank worked on site 24/7 for years—for us to be able to oversee operations without micromanaging. Now we can go to our own restaurants and enjoy them as guests. Well, mostly. I still notice dust and fingerprints on the walls—you can't help it!BTC: Let's talk about that renovation. You literally stripped this place to the bare bones.Lilly: We did! It was a massive undertaking, but we had this vision of a space that could effortlessly transition from relaxed daytime lunch and brunch to a vibrant nighttime hotspot. That required completely rebuilding and redesigning everything. Every detail matters when you're trying to create an experience that lets people fully immerse themselves from the moment they walk in.BTC: How are you planning to balance creating that vibrant energy while still making it a place people can actually connect?Lilly: The music's going to be loud. When people come from our other Locale locations and say "the music's too loud," we're gonna be like "Crank it!" People should know that before coming in. But trust me, it will work. I'm 60, and I want to go to a place with loud music and crafted cocktails on date night. Sometimes you don't want to talk so much to your partner—you listen to the music together. It's gonna be vibrant, it's gonna give you energy.BTC: Your team seems ready to launch.Lilly: I could not do this without my core team. Steve Oletic will be our restaurant manager here—what he's achieved to make sure Aurora's in good hands while dedicating himself 24/7 to getting this place ready is incredible. Chef Michael Dadd is our head chef, and Eli Rosch is our bar manager. We've collaborated on everything together, and I can't wait for people to experience what we've built.The relationship between restaurant owner and chef is like a very complex dance. When you find that balance with somebody, you fucking go with it. Michael had so much potential beyond what he was doing—small plates, ingredient-driven cooking—this is his niche. And when I let him go, this is what we got.BTC: Chef Michael, tell us about your approach to the menu.Chef Michael Dadd: It's all about Mediterranean inspiration using local ingredients. We're doing everything from scratch—sardines we'll be cleaning and marinating in-house, 40 pounds a week. The patatas bravas, which we introduced at Beer Fest, went over really well. And the croquettas—very Spanish traditional but with a Scotch egg element, so there's a beautiful soft poached egg in the middle.I grew up 15 minutes north of here, so using local produce from the Holland Marsh has always been engrained in everything I do. I can't wait for guests to discover these flavor combinations.BTC: What's the hardest part about getting ready to open this concept?Lilly: Honestly? The hardest part has been navigating the delays and supply chain issues. Post-COVID, everything is more expensive—30 to 35% more—and nothing arrives on time. A simple barstool turns into a six-week delay. But we push through because growth isn’t just about opening another space—it’s about creating opportunity. For our team, our community, and the vision we believe in.I can't wait for our regular customers from King and Aurora to discover this different side of what we do, and to welcome new faces to the family."Food is so many things to so many people, but at the end of the day, it's family, it's love, it's culture."BTC: The design here is stunning. Tell me about those details.Lilly: Every single detail has been thought of, from the bathrooms to the little fringe on the barstools. The glass chandeliers are hand-blown from England. The moth wallpaper—I wanted something edgy. But here's the crazy part: when we first got in this place during construction, I went into that dusty, ugly washroom, and a moth landed on the wall. I was thinking about a logo representing transformation—of Locale, of this space, of myself. Moths are attracted to night and light, and this is the night. Everything just clicked.BTC: What's next for the Locale empire?Lilly: We're going to go RV for a month, because that's what we do. Montreal's been calling, so... I don't know. Let's end it with that.As our conversation winds down and the final preparations continue around us, it's clear that Lilly is about to achieve exactly what she set out to—a place where food is love, where collaboration happens naturally, and where every detail serves the bigger vision of bringing people together. Bar Locale is ready to open, and Newmarket is about to discover something special.
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