I once heard that a person changes every seven years. I wasn’t sure I believed it, and I still don’t think it holds true for everyone.
One thing I do know, though:
I’m very different from who I was seven years ago.
That woman?
She thrived on hustle and grit. She loved setting near-impossible goals and found meaning in fighting to reach them. She carried an attitude of “bring it, honey!”
Case in point:
People said we’d be back within months when we moved 1,000 km away from friends and family to a low-income farming community.
Moving wasn’t easy, but we’re still here more than seven years later.
When we decided to stay, people thought we’d never save enough for a down payment while covering my health needs and living on my partner’s modest income.
We entered a season of intentional budgeting, learned restraint, and grew wiser with money. It wasn’t fun, but three years later we managed a 25% down payment on our mortgage.
When word got out that we planned to spend a Canadian winter in an 8×12 shed on the property without running water while building our home, folks predicted I’d go nuts and we’d bail.
They were almost right that time. 😉
We were told we couldn’t clear the land and build our little cottage in a year.
We were exhausted by the end, but we moved into our mostly finished cottage before the year was up.
I think about the gardens. Everyone who saw our rocky plot said nothing would grow there. I welcomed the challenge. I took pleasure in learning how to amend soil, design garden beds, and make things work. Now I harvest hundreds of pounds of food from those gardens every year.
Like I said, that woman found challenges invigorating. She loved to rise to them. It didn’t matter if appearances weren’t perfect—she was too busy learning, adapting, and solving problems so life would be easier once we started a family.
Since our baby girl arrived, something has shifted inside me.
Just the other day I found myself searching for the right words to explain it to my partner.
I’m ready to be done with the constant grind and sacrifice. I want to move from the bare essentials to actually making things lovely.
You know, dear, I spend more time than ever in our cottage with our daughter. I’m aching for a few finishing touches that speak to my creative side and make me feel like a settled adult and homemaker.
Take our tiny dining room: the wide table and oversized chairs are too big and I’m always shoving them around. The bathroom shelf still doesn’t have doors. Remember those beautiful lights you started for the living room? The furniture we’ve been dreaming of? Maybe I should put in a huge order, hire a handyman, or (probably a bad idea) do it myself.
At that point I think he wondered where his wife had gone. 🙂
“Must be baby brain,” he joked. Or maybe she always wanted this and he’s only now noticed.
Don’t get me wrong—I don’t want to be consumed by material things or believe that my world will suddenly fall into place because of possessions.
But we’ve paid our dues. Now it feels okay to enjoy life a little, to have a few nice things, and mostly to feel settled. I want to be able to say, “It’s finished, I’m done, and I can just enjoy life now.”
Seven years of hustling, grinding, and working my fingers to the bone—now I’m ready to stop.
The part of me that loved constant restructuring wants to step back and focus on adornment and comfort. So, watch this space.
I’ve even been bribing my partner—honestly. I promised that if he keeps chipping away at small projects that make our home feel finished, I’ll do my part to bring people over for dinner once a week and help revive our social life.
Pinky promise. Cross my heart.
It’ll be wonderful to see progress around here again. I’m excited for this next season—one that values beauty and ease alongside the lessons the last seven years taught us.