Pedro Antonio Salaverría Calahorra/Alamy Stock Photo

I can’t claim I have lived a life free of regrets, but what I can acknowledge, is a commitment to embody a regret-free practice. Let me explain.

My embrace of a regret-free practice began with a simple question that a friend, who later became my coach, posed to me when I was grappling with what the next stage of my career looked like. 

“Nicole, what do you not want to look back at and regret?”

That question landed with a thud. All the thoughts and ideas swirling in my head slowed and hung suspended, arresting my focus.  A calm seeped in and settled, slackening the rigidity of rationale just enough to let the gush of emotions slip through. With rationale swept away, the voice that instinctively knew the answer trembled as the words escaped my lips. There was a narrowing window to spend as much time with my mother, who was then in her early 90s. The first time I “penned” a personal piece for publication, it was about her. The article, Surrendering to Healing, is one of ten stories in the Our Right to Heal project, published by AFP Global in May 2020. 

About twelve years ago, my career approached a crossroads. I stepped away from an organization where I had worked for eighteen years. While I had the opportunity to continue my employment by moving to another city hundreds of kilometres away, I chose to remain close to family instead. During those eighteen years, I grew both professionally and personally, holding four roles, the last of which was Director of the Fund Development Team. 

The process of leaving and wrapping up eighteen years with one employer was challenging and emotional. As my final months, weeks, and days approached, I was physically and emotionally exhausted—more emotionally than physically, though the physical exhaustion was a byproduct of the heavy emotional toll. For my well-being, I needed and planned for an extended break after that final day. The timing of my departure was perfect, and I wasn’t bothered or preoccupied by the reality that I was stepping into a period without having a clear career directional map. 

Why the sense of freedom and lack of angst?

Well, there were a few reasons for my unworried and unbothered state given an unclear directional future.  First, as earlier shared, my body, mind, and spirit were in full collapse mode after a prolonged period of holding and navigating tension. Second, my departure came six weeks into spring, and signs of rebirth were in full bloom. My garden, where for a couple of years I spent less and less time cultivating, nurturing, and tending to its care, beckoned, and there were no work demands, or lack of time and energy, to use as plausible excuses. Over the years, my garden always tended to me, as I had tended to it—we each receiving offerings from a tangible and reciprocal circle of generosity.  And at the time, I needed its tending as much as it needed mine. “Working” in the garden offered comfort and solace from the overwhelming sadness of leaving colleagues and friends I had worked with for a long time; parting ways with an organization I had spent eighteen years with; and one that I credit for my growth as a fundraiser, colleague, and leader. Third, there were two family events that had me on a wild and euphoric emotional ride that spring. Both were weddings exactly three months apart, one in May and the other in August, for one of my nieces and one of my nephews—a sibling pair.  Planning for both weddings was enough to occupy our family’s time.

Now, feeling rested and being several months into my work-free state; with summer drawing to a close; my garden in a state best described as a dulled lush; and with two family weddings in my rear view, the day of reckoning and confronting what was next for me careerwise, had arrived. A seriousness was creeping back into my countenance. I needed to focus, envision, and reposition my career trajectory. In my deliberations, having clarity about what I didn’t want to regret and what I valued most served as guideposts in rerouting my career path.

What is it that I valued most? 

 As I mentioned earlier, I wanted to spend as much time as possible with my mom, and by extension, the other members of my large family.  Although I centred family always, the cost was high. For me, it was never a choice between family and work—family was always first—and throughout my years as an employee, family and work rested on either side of a scale, where the effort was in calibrating both sides. My practice at the time was to add, rather than lighten, each side. My work location was in Toronto, approximately 400 kilometres from the organization’s head office in Ottawa. As the only director outside of Ottawa, it meant I traveled regularly to the head office for in-person leadership and board meetings. Although my mode of travel varied, I often had a lot to transport outside of my suitcase, and for those occasions, the best travel option was to drive. Usually, I was content to “pay the price” when I was required to attend a work meeting timed closely to an important family function. I recall one year mom’s birthday celebration fell on one day and I had to be up earlier the next day to drive approximately 4-1/2 hours to make it to Ottawa for a 10am meeting start—a time pushed back an hour to give me a bit more time to get to the location. 

With my departure, those days were in the past. Now, with the clarity of time, and my coach’s cut through the noise "What do you not want to regret?" question, it was clear that whatever future path I chose, it had to meet what I valued most, spending time with mom. I assessed that I possessed most of the requirements to chart a risky, yet self-defined path that would allow me the ultimate flexibility required to avoid one day looking back and thinking, “I wish I had seized the opportunity to spend more time with her.” Today, when the waves of grief hit, they are never accompanied by a feeling of regret.

Exactly how many crossroads are there?

My answer to that question is that I don’t know, but I suspect it varies based on the choices made, anticipated and unanticipated events, as well as other factors.  Sometimes the path one takes leads to where you should be, rather than where you thought you would be. The idea of being where I should be versus where I thought I would be has played out through my life’s journey thus far. 

Throughout high school, though I was good and competent at most subjects I took, my passion subjects were history, economics, and English. In university, I loved the blending of economics and history because I found them thought-provoking, triggering of my analytical side, allowing me to visualize and identify patterns, and discover connections. The blend fed my curiosity and held me in the pocket of my sweet spot.  None of that predicted that I would meander along a path leading to a three-decade career in the nonprofit/ social impact space as a fundraiser. But here I am, and with hindsight, I can connect the dots. 

Today, although I do my darndest to stick with a regret-free practice, the truth is it takes effort. Every so often, I find myself wandering into ‘what if’ territory, which I view as being loosely tied to regrets. There was no big eureka moment that precipitated my arrival at my current crossroads. But for the better part of two years, with increasing intensity late last year and finally crowning in this year, something unnamed, yet felt, was stirring within me, refusing to free me from its grip—I allowed it and didn’t fight it. As I emerged from my self-imposed slowdown and push-pause winter months, something had changed. I welcomed the sign of spring as I always do, but there was something a little different about this past winter’s germination. 

I look back at the meandering path that led me here, recognizing I have been gathering life nuggets all along the way. Many nuggets were smooth, polished, and digestible ones, yielding immense joy and pleasure; several were rough, shard-like ones I held that brought harm, pain, loss, and the full weight of grief.  And I am here, at a crossroads.

Am I seriously making a career pivot at this stage of a long career?

The simple answer is yes, I am.  And at this point, there is such freedom in being what is seemingly off script—it isn’t really. Sometimes, where you land is perfectly timed, and it’s where you should be, and not where you thought you would be. And I hold all those nuggets gathered along the way as a reminder of how the path led me to where I am now. Several weeks ago, I declared what I have come to embrace—I am an editor, a poet, and a writer. The truth is, I am much more, but I am happy to lead with that.  To make room for the editor, poet, and writer to bloom and grow, I won’t adopt old habits of piling more on top of what I am already doing. I will retain some services I currently offer, and discontinue others. The consequence of pivoting towards a new direction is that for the remainder of this year, I will focus on navigating this shift, which on the other side includes editing and writing service offerings within the sector.

" Language alone protects us from the scariness of things with no names. Language alone is meditation."
~ Toni Morrison

Today, if asked the question "Nicole, what do you not want to regret?" part of my answer would be the same as before—time with my family, including my great nieces and nephews who bring joy and who amaze me every day. But I add two more regret-free practices—nurturing existing relationships, and maybe adding a few more; and a commitment to weave words, use language, and add my voice as an instrument to connect, unsettle, reawaken, and appeal to the highest expressions of our humanity.

Today may be the perfect day to ask yourself the question, “What do I not want to regret?”

Nuff Love,