Everything Happens for a Reason

“Sometimes that reason is that you're stupid and make bad choices.” — anon

This expression used to make me laugh out loud. I’d look around and see it everywhere — those little messes people got themselves into, those avoidable disasters that almost felt deserved.

And then yesterday happened.

The messy path of “enlightenment”

We all love the idea of moving through life operating from love, from calm. I want that. I used to say I chased that, but the truth is — I’m learning to center myself and allow myself to hear it.

The path isn’t tidy. It’s a demolition site. Parts of you crumble. Other parts calcify and take shape. It’s beautiful and it’s brutal.

Lately the universe has been deafening in its message: slow down. Look after your health.

I nod, but I resist. Because I’ve always thought of myself as someone who thrives in the scramble, who can juggle everything and still keep it all going.

But sitting in Pearson Airport crying and laughing at the same time, I realized: scrambling has never actually been my way.

My way has always been organizing chaos.

That’s how I’ve survived, how I’ve built, how I’ve carried myself through impossible seasons. And maybe what the universe is asking isn’t that I stop being me — it’s that I reorganize my chaos into something livable. Something that prioritizes my health first.

Parenting and the heartbreak of opportunity

My teenager was supposed to come with me to Montreal. At 16, social media is his world, and he was going to handle that while I focused on branding strategy and digital integration. I was thrilled — not just for the help, but for him to see up close what it looks like to build something from the ground up.

Then soccer tryouts, school, and his job all collided. He told me he couldn’t come.

I was devastated — gutted in a way that surprised me. It wasn’t just logistics. It was about my own story. I never had many clear opportunities growing up. Nothing so direct, nothing that put me shoulder to shoulder with someone building. I wanted to give him what I never had. And when he walked away from it, it felt like I was holding something precious that suddenly slipped through my fingers.

But in that ache, I found clarity. I saw the difference between the parent I wish I’d had and the parent my teenager actually needs.

He doesn’t need me to engineer his path. He needs space to stumble, to choose, to learn initiative. I told him directly: I’m going to step back now and let you build that little muscle called initiative. My role is to be a role model, not a project manager for his life. That realization — painful and humbling — was also liberating.

The airport breakdown

So I went to Montreal alone.

Or at least, I tried.

Canceled his ticket. Changed the hotel. Showed up ready.

Then the airlines did what airlines do:

• Two carriers sharing the same route.

• Two gates with planes leaving at the same time.

• Staff sending me back and forth.

• A flight board with the one screen I needed conveniently turned off.

• A 1-800 number that could only talk to the “sister company.”

By the time I pieced it together, my flight was gone.

I canceled the hotel, then the airline called back to say they’d given me a later flight.

And that’s when I had the choice: scramble harder, or step back.

I sat in the terminal, crying and laughing at once, and I didn’t give up. I gave in. I thought clearly: being at that session wasn’t where I needed to be right now.

What the universe was saying

This wasn’t punishment. It wasn’t proof I was stupid. It wasn’t even bad luck. It was the universe saying loudly: enough. Your health first.

So instead of boarding another plane, I booked my way back home. I’m going to spend the next few days ironing out my upcoming treatment plan — which now looks like it will be in Mexico, alongside my new friend.

Where I land today (pun intended)

The last few weeks have been intense: my body is transforming, my spirit is stretching, and my mind is sharper than it’s ever been. It’s not clean, it’s not linear, and it certainly isn’t graceful. But it is real.

So what now? Smaller commitments. More health as priority number one. Parenting from example, not orchestration. Letting chaos be chaos, but making sure it’s organized around what actually matters.

Sometimes everything happens for a reason. And sometimes that reason is simply this: life knows where you’re supposed to be, even if it has to shut down your flight to get you there.

So I will spend the next few days finalizing my treatment plans, and focusing on me first.

---

From the other side of breakdowns,
Me

An Invite to Share

I invite you to share this piece with someone who’s in the middle of their own breakdown-to-breakthrough? Share this with them — sometimes a story is the sign they’ve been waiting for.