about michelle

All my life I was taught to go to school, work hard, go to college, get a good job, build a career, get married, have kids — those expectations were just sort of set for me. My parents gave me a great life. I grew up playing soccer and playing the trumpet in various bands in my home town of North Vancouver, Canada. I delivered newspapers after school and babysat other neighbourhood kids. I got to travel some, worked part time jobs in high school and started college right out of the gate. By all accounts I did everything right.

The problem was that I had no idea what I wanted. I wanted everything!

I began to gather life experiences. I joined the Canadian Armed Forces Reserves and did basic training and Combat Engineer training. I went to 3 different colleges over 7 years, moved 11 times in 9 years, and worked a series of soul-sucking jobs that taught me some great lessons about what I did and didn’t want.

I finally graduated with a Business Degree and wandered into marketing in the ski industry, met a great guy, and spent the next few years kind of getting the hang of living as an adult.

I took up sport karate/kickboxing. Over the next 5 years I learned about nutrition, lost 60 lbs, learned to run, and took up yoga. I went skydiving and river rafting, ran a few half marathons and earned my first black belt. I went snowboarding and on motorcycle rides with my then boyfriend and took random road trips. By 30 years of age, I was married, bought my first home and my eldest son was born.

From that point onward, life has been a series of learning lessons — sometimes chaotic, sometimes beautiful, and always challenging.

I know the fear of nearly losing my newborn son to a bleeding disorder. I know the pain of loving someone who struggles with drug addiction. I know the anguish of living with postpartum depression. I know the regret of voicing hurtful words that can never be taken back and the shame of making monumental financial mistakes.

After 10 years together my husband died in a motorcycle accident in 2010, leaving me with a 3 year old and a newborn son to raise. What followed was a decade of vulnerability unlike anything I had ever felt. A decade of figuring out how to live when all the rules I had followed no longer made any sense. I had two little people that were going to need way more from me than my life was set up to accommodate — more than I had the mental capacity to give, even.

Or so I thought.

I have made many mistakes, but I have learned invaluable wisdom. I remarried. I took up TaeKwon-Do and earned another black belt. I started my own business and doubled my income with half as many hours, earning a comfortable 6-figure income part time while I raised my kids. I bought rental property. I pulled my kids out of school and homeschooled them while supporting my family. I got myself in peak physical condition and won some international medals at a couple of TaeKwon-Do World Championships. I also made the heartbreaking decision to leave my marriage.

I learned to boldly claim what mattered to me most, and turn away from the things that weren’t serving me.

I learned to trust myself, to parent alone, to manage my investments, to run my business, to homeschool, to coach martial arts. I learned to take naps and connect with people and eat well and get regular exercise — not because it’s just good for me but because it’s what allows me to keep up the pace of single motherhood with joy and breathing room. I learned to re-evaluate the expectations I had of others in my personal relationships and let go of some old beliefs.

I learned that it was okay to change the rules.

In 2021 I moved to Panama with my kids and my partner. I spent 18 months getting my inspiration from walking the beaches in the mornings and soaking in the rich tropical air. I have since returned to Alberta, where I work on my own terms with the freedom to decide how I’ll spend my time each day. I’m grateful every day to be experiencing some of life’s greater rewards as I’ve been upheld and supported to take on some of life’s greater risks.