Two Years Ago, We Started Over

Two years ago, our family unpacked boxes in a city that didn’t yet feel like home.

I knew moving was the right decision.

That didn’t make it easy.

Leaving Grande Prairie meant leaving behind more than a house.

It meant leaving a community where I felt known.

I had spent years building relationships. I knew people. People knew me. I had found my place.

In many ways, I felt like a big fish in a small sea.

Starting over meant becoming anonymous again.

That was scary.

Of course, there were reasons to move.

Professionally, there would be more opportunities.

Personally, there would be more opportunities too.

We would be closer to family again, and that mattered deeply to me.

As my grandparents aged, I watched my parents pour so much time, love, and energy into caring for them. It made me think about my own parents getting older someday. I didn’t want my sister to carry that responsibility alone. More than that, I wanted more ordinary moments together while we still had the chance.

I knew all of that.

And yet.

Knowing something is the right decision doesn’t stop it from being a hard decision.

I think that’s where so many of us get stuck.

We assume that if something is right, it should feel easy.

If we’re anxious, maybe it’s the wrong choice.

If we’re grieving what we’re leaving behind, maybe we’re making a mistake.

But what if those feelings aren’t signs to stop?

What if they’re simply signs that something matters?

One of the things coaching has taught me is that we don’t just grieve what was bad.

We also grieve what was good.

I miss parts of Grande Prairie.

I miss people.

I miss familiarity.

I miss the feeling of walking into a room and recognizing almost everyone there.

Missing those things doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have moved.

It just means those years mattered.

Today, two years later, our lives look so different.

Our kids are thriving.

We’ve built incredible friendships.

We’ve found communities where we belong.

We’ve even created some of our own.

The life we were hoping for didn’t magically appear the day we arrived.

We built it.

One conversation.

One invitation.

One uncomfortable first step at a time.

Looking back, I’m so grateful we made the move.

Not because it was easy.

Because it was worth it.

If you’re standing in front of a big decision right now, whether it’s moving, changing careers, ending a relationship, coming out, starting something new, or finally choosing yourself, I want you to know this:

You don’t have to choose between fear and the right decision.

Sometimes the right decision is the scary one.

Sometimes you’ll grieve what you’re leaving while still feeling excited about what’s ahead.

Those feelings can exist together.

The goal isn’t to find a decision that comes without fear.

It’s to make the decision that aligns with the life you’re trying to build.

Two years ago, I couldn’t see everything waiting for us on the other side of that move.

I’m just grateful we were willing to take the first step anyway.

Sometimes you don’t get certainty before you decide.

Sometimes certainty is something you build by living the decision you’ve made.

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If you’re standing at the edge of a big decision right now, you don’t have to figure it out alone.

Whether you’re considering a move, a career change, a relationship shift, coming out, or simply trying to build a life that feels more like yours, coaching can give you a space to slow down, untangle the noise, and reconnect with what matters most to you.

I won’t tell you what decision to make.

But I’ll help you explore it with curiosity instead of fear, confidence instead of self-doubt, and intention instead of pressure.

If that sounds like the kind of support you’re looking for, I’d love to connect.

Book a free discovery call, and let’s explore what the next chapter of your life could look like.