Editor’s Note: Does it feel like there’s been a lot of endings lately?

There’s a part of this journey that no one talks about.

The grief.

No one talks about the grief that comes from losing a version, or many versions of yourself.

There’s no denying change was necessary but I still miss parts of the old me.

I grieve the highly organized and efficient person I used to be; the person with the keen memory; the one who got things done in a timely manner.

Instead of feeling sad that I am no longer that person, I’m grateful for her because I once needed that version to survive.

I’m learning to love the sound of my feet walking away from things not meant for me. – AG

I can’t describe my overwhelming sadness when I think about how much I gave to a job and a workplace that had so little respect for me.

The unrealistic expectations no human could fulfil. Each one more impossible than the last.

No credit, recognition or compensation for holding down several jobs for years while paid for one.

I gave it my all.

As far as my workplace was concerned, I ceased to exist the day I left.

The management team vanished leaving me to fight for basic requests such as my Record of Employment or completion of a mandatory insurance form to continue payment.

It was poor leadership and there’s no excusing it. No employee deserves the treatment I got.

I felt like a pariah – betrayed by leaders, abandoned by peers I thought were friends.

I worked hard and tried even harder to raise morale in an office with a 47% vacancy rate – with treats and cakes, contributing to admin gifts and the office Joy and Sorrow fund.

As I reflect, there was little joy; it was mostly sorrow in a poisoned, toxic environment that nearly broke my spirit.

I finally learned the lesson. Try as they might, one person won’t change a toxic culture – it will change you.

The betrayal didn’t end with my place of work. The treatment I’ve endured from insurance companies has been unimaginable. It’s a painful reminder that this is how society rewards employees who give too much to their job.

If you can’t yet see how persistent the mental health stigma is in the year 2026, I guess you don’t want to.

These last two years opened my eyes to how lonely a chronic health issue can be.

The world kept spinning but I stayed put.

Many times, I felt left behind.

And while healing is an individual journey, there’s grief in the silence. Of waiting, hoping someone might reach out with a quick text, an email, or a phone call so I knew I still mattered.

Sometimes plans were made with no follow through. Having something to look forward to can be a lifeline on the hard days.

There’s grief in knowing the many kindnesses I’ve extended to people in their times of hardship was not reciprocated when I really needed it. I’ve played host, delivered meals, wiped tears, and dropped everything to be present even when my own world was in turmoil.

Some may say I wasn’t there for them in the ways they needed. Maybe so – but at least I showed up.

People have disappointed me more times than I care to count since I started this journey. I’m grateful for them though because they showed me what I don’t want to be.

I’ll never stop caring and I’ll never stop trying to make a difference.

I had my first glimpse of the world’s harshness when my father ended his life when I was a teen. In spite of that, I continue to look for and be the good that this world desperately needs.

I was convinced that people who know me and my story would be inspired to assist me as I continue to champion for mental health. I’m grateful to those that have.

Apathy extends far beyond me and this blog. Civility, kindness, and concern for one another is like a rare jewel.

There’s far too much of “what’s in it for me?” and not nearly enough of “what can I do to make this world a better place?”

There’s nothing anyone can do or say to wake people from their cold-hearted indifference to the suffering in this world. It’s a choice they make. That may be the saddest thing of all.

There’s grief and rage that people, women in particular, are taught to repress their feelings for the comfort of everyone else. There’s grief that some will read this blog and dismiss it as as sour grapes. A victim mindset.

Let them talk. They will anyway.

I no longer apologize for feelings that make others uncomfortable.

It is natural to expect that people, places and things will fall away as our journey through life continues.

How else can we make space for new beginnings?

The last two years have been very difficult but I’m grateful for the clarity.

I honour the ending.

These Taylor Swift lyrics spoke to me.

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