You know it’s officially Spring in my corner of the world when the daffodils start peeking out like nosy neighbors, the grass gets its first haircut of the season, and the frogs outside begin their nightly chorus just as I’m letting the dogs out for their final potty break. Those frogs? They’re my seasonal alarm clock. Their ribbiting is basically Mother Nature whispering, “Hey girl, it’s time.”

And what is Spring without the most cliché urge of all?

Spring Cleaning!

But this year, it’s hitting a little differently.

See, I’ve reached that mature, wise, fabulous age where I’m suddenly aware that I’ve been holding onto things that… well… maybe only matter to me. I’m not a hoarder – let’s be clear. You will not find a single Cool Whip container saved “just in case,” nor will you be crushed under a newspaper avalanche if you visit my home. No one needs to back a dumpster up to my house with a beep beep beep soundtrack.

But I do attach emotions to objects. Deeply. Fiercely. Irrationally.

Case in Point

I have a sweater of my dad’s – the one he wore the day my daughter was born. I know this because I have a photo of him holding her in it. The photo should be enough, right? But nope. I’ve kept the sweater all these years, long after he passed, even though I’ll never wear it, never repurpose it, and could draw it from memory. It’s not a sweater. It’s a moment. A feeling. A whole chapter of my life.

But lately I’ve been thinking about my daughter. About the future. About the fact that while I hope to be around for many, many years, life doesn’t always consult our calendars. And I don’t want her someday standing in my closet, overwhelmed, trying to decide what to keep and what to let go of while also grieving.

So, this year, I’m doing the Uber Spring Clean – the kind that’s part tidying, part therapy, part love letter to the people who will someday have to sort through my things.

And my favorite place to start?

The closet.

A tidy closet is my love language.

How to Tackle a Big-Girl, Big-Heart Spring Clean

First rule: Do not – I repeat, do NOT – try to do it all at once.

This is not a punishment. This is not a bootcamp. This is a gentle, grown-woman cleanse.

Try a one-task-per-day rhythm:

• Day 1: Closet
• Day 2: Refrigerator
• Day 3: Your car
• Day 4: Laundry room
• Day 5: Purse (brace yourself)
• Day 6: Kitchen cupboards
• Day 7: Bathroom cabinets
• Day 8: Linen closet
• Day 9: Paper files
• Day 10: Sentimental items (only when emotionally hydrated and prepared)

Slow and steady. One category at a time. No guilt. No pressure.

What to Do with the “Let It Go” Pile

Once you’ve sorted through the things you no longer want – and the things your loved ones definitely don’t want to inherit – you’ve got options:

Donate to:

• Churches
• Domestic violence shelters
• Homeless shelters
• Community organizations
• Women’s transitional housing programs

Sell on:

• Etsy
• eBay
• Poshmark
• Facebook Marketplace

Or Go Old-School:

Host a garage sale and treat yourself to a little “I survived Spring Cleaning” money.

Whatever you choose, someone else benefits – and you get your space (and sanity) back.

The End Result

When it’s all said and done, you’ll feel lighter.

Your home will breathe easier.

Your future self – and your loved ones – will thank you.

And somewhere out there, someone will be wearing or using something you donated, feeling grateful for your generosity.

Spring isn’t just about flowers blooming.

Sometimes it’s about you blooming – clearing out the old, making space for the new, and honoring the past without letting it take over your closets.

And if the frogs say it’s time… who am I to argue?

Let’s Have a Conversation:

What does spring cleaning mean to you? Have you planned your cleaning spree session? What have you planned to tackle first?

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Many women reach a point in midlife where something in their relationship with their adult children begins to feel different. The shift is often subtle at first, but over time it becomes clear that the strategies that once strengthened connection are no longer having the same effect.

In some cases, they seem to be doing the opposite.

The Natural Response: Try Harder

When distance appears, most mothers instinctively respond by increasing their effort. They reach out more often, check in more frequently, offer guidance, and look for ways to repair whatever feels unsettled.

This response makes perfect sense. It reflects years – often decades – of loving through presence, attentiveness, and involvement.

But adulthood introduces a new dynamic, one that requires a different kind of connection.

Why It Can Feel Like Pressure Instead of Love

What feels like care from one side can feel like pressure from the other.

Adult children are navigating independence in a very real and often demanding way. They are building careers, forming relationships, and shaping identities that exist outside the framework of their family of origin.

When they begin to feel monitored or guided – however well-intentioned – it can create a sense of being managed rather than supported. And that perception often leads to distance.

The Cycle So Many Mothers Recognize

Many women quietly find themselves caught in a pattern that is both frustrating and painful.

They notice distance and increase their effort. Their child feels that increased attention as pressure and pulls back. The withdrawal heightens the mother’s concern, leading her to try even harder.

Before long, both are caught in a loop that neither intended, and the relationship begins to feel strained despite the presence of love.

Rethinking What “Closeness” Looks Like

One of the most important shifts in this stage of life is redefining what closeness actually means.

It is no longer built on frequency of contact or level of involvement. Instead, it grows out of emotional safety – the sense that both people can exist freely within the relationship without feeling managed or corrected.

And emotional safety often requires space.

Not distance in the sense of disconnection, but space in the sense of freedom.

What Healthy Space Actually Means

Healthy space allows adult children to make decisions, process challenges, and develop confidence in their own judgment. At the same time, it gives mothers the opportunity to step out of constant worry and reconnect with their own sense of steadiness and identity.

Rather than weakening the relationship, this kind of space often strengthens it by removing pressure and creating room for more natural connection.

The Shift That Changes Everything

A helpful starting point is to shift the question.

Instead of asking, “What do I need to do to fix this?” consider asking, “How can I remain grounded regardless of what is happening?”

This shift moves you out of reaction and into strength. It replaces urgency with steadiness and allows you to show up in a way that invites connection rather than unintentionally pushing it away.

A Healthier Way Forward

Strong relationships with adult children are built on mutual respect, emotional independence, and consistent, pressure-free connection.

You do not need to earn your place in your child’s life through increased effort. That place already exists.

The work now is learning how to stand in it with confidence, allowing the relationship to evolve in a way that supports both of you.

If this is something you’re navigating, I created a short, practical guide:

“5 Truths to Help You Let Go with Love.”

It’s designed to help you stay connected without overreaching.

Please share this with a friend who needs to hear it.

Let’s Discuss:

Have you ever noticed a moment when trying harder created more distance? What helped you begin to shift your approach?

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Like many women our age, for decades, I’d given everything I had to my family: raising children, helping to raise grandchildren, attending to countless medical issues facing both my aging parents, and supporting my husband through his long and stressful career. Don’t get me wrong – I adore my family. They are a perpetual source of strength, joy, and love. In a heartbeat, I would happily choose to live that life all over again.

Last Hurrah

But, as my fourth and final quarter of life came upon me, I know I needed two things:

1. a massive life change; and
2. a dedicated writing space all my own.

And, I knew, in order to accomplish those two changes, I had to put myself first.

Life, So Far

My husband, Rick, and I have been blessed. We lived and raised our kids in a nurturing, comfortable and safe neighbourhood; not unlike those of the ’50s. Then, 46 years into our marriage, our adult kids long moved out of the house, Rick, our two little dogs, and I, were left living in a house that was too big for us. It was time to bite the bullet, time to leave, sell, move on.

My husband did not agree with me. He wanted to stay put. He loved our home and our street and our neighbours. I loved it all too, but I couldn’t stem the tidal wave of change dominating my every thought. After months of persuasion, and several heated “discussions,” Rick finally gave in and consented to look at some houses with me.

The Beginning

Within several weeks, we found the small, walk-out bungalow we were searching for – or should I say, I was searching for. We made an offer. It was accepted. Our home went on the market and sold the first day, leaving a very short window for sorting, packing, and moving. I admit, I had no idea of what was to come.

The Enormous Cleanse

Realization of the impending move hit Rick pretty hard. Luckily for me, things were moving forward rapidly and there wasn’t much time for ruminating. A lifetime of marriage, three children and two grandchildren left us dealing with an abundance of accumulation.

We were neither pack rats nor were we hoarders, but, over the years, we still had amassed so much stuff… more stuff than I had ever imagined. But we dug in, keeping only what was important. As the chaos of the cleanse drew to a close, overwhelmed and exhausted, my husband heard me cry, “We’re never moving again!”

The Move

We hired a professional to paint the interior of the new house. Best decision ever. For the first time in our marriage, we hired movers. Second best decision ever. On moving day, we cleaned one section of the new house at a time, and then the movers placed the large furniture.

Boxes had been marked and left in the corresponding room. The kitchen was cleaned, unpacked and sorted in one day! So gratifying. Rick, caught up in the swirling winds of change, was amenable from moving day forward. I’m ever so grateful to him for that.

Discovering Bliss

On the walkout level of our new bungalow, was a freshly painted bedroom. It boasted a large window facing the backyard. I could see the Alberta oak trees and the poplar trees and the lilac bushes.

I could watch red-winged blackbirds and northern flickers and chickadees flit and fly from branch to branch. In the forested area just beyond the backyard fence, there was a walking path lined with a freshwater spring. When the window slid open, I could hear it bubbling and gurgling its way downhill.

I could hear the voices of children playing with friends or walking home from school. I could hear the unmistakable squawk of the blue jay looking for its mate. Moving in a desk, filing cabinet, bookcase and shelving, I was all set. I had found the dedicated writing space, all my own.

Was It the Right Decision?

Rick is settled in our new home. He was afraid his memories of our kids and our grandkids were wrapped up in the home we left behind. But they weren’t. Our memories live in both our hearts and our minds; they will be carried there for the rest of our lives.

This move, a massive change, a clean slate, a fresh start, was truly good for the soul. I knew putting myself first in this instance was the only thing to do. We’re looking forward to celebrating our 50th wedding anniversary, and making brand new memories in our sweet, little home.

Questions for Reflection:

Have you ever put yourself first? If so, what was the result? Are you craving a big change? Does your life meet your expectations?

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There are days when the body quietly reminds you who is in charge. It doesn’t ask permission. It doesn’t check your plans. It simply slows you down, and with it, something else slows down too – your mind.

Last night, I didn’t feel well. Nothing serious, just enough to take the edge off everything. But what caught me off guard wasn’t the physical discomfort. It was the mental fog that came with it.

Something Was Off

I’ve spent a lot of time paying attention to how music affects the mind – how certain sounds can settle you, even open a small door to clarity. I’ve come to trust that. There’s a certain confidence that comes from knowing that when things feel scattered, there are ways to gently guide yourself back.

But not yesterday. Yesterday, none of it seemed to reach me, and that stayed with me.

The music was still there. The same songs, the same tones, the same intention behind listening. But the response was different. Or maybe it wasn’t the response that changed, but the part of me that receives it.

Because my first instinct was to push against it. To wonder what was wrong. To question why I couldn’t think clearly, why I didn’t feel like myself. There’s a subtle expectation we carry, often without realizing it, that we should be able to return to ourselves at will. That clarity is something we can choose, if we just try hard enough.

The Body Has Its Own Rhythm

It took a little while before another thought came in, quieter this time. Maybe nothing was wrong. Maybe this was simply what it feels like when the body needs something different.

There’s something humbling about that realization. The body has its own timing, its own rhythm, and it doesn’t always align with what we would prefer. It asks for rest in a way that isn’t negotiable. And when it does, the mind follows.

Not in a dramatic way. Just a soft dimming. A step back from sharpness. From focus. From the need to engage with everything the way we usually do.

When the body is tired or unwell, the mind doesn’t operate the same way. It isn’t as sharp. It isn’t as willing. And yet, we often meet that moment with resistance. We expect ourselves to carry on as if nothing has changed.

But something has.

And perhaps there’s a kind of understanding in recognizing that – not as a setback, but as part of being human. To step back, just a little. To let the day be what it is.

Letting the Body Lead the Way

There’s a difference between giving up and giving space. One comes from frustration. The other comes from recognition. From noticing what is actually happening instead of what we wish were happening.

To notice that clarity, energy, even creativity, don’t disappear. They pause. And like most things that pause, they return. Not because we force them to, but because we give them the space.

I’ve begun to wonder how many of those moments in life we misinterpret. How often we think something is wrong, when in fact something is simply asking for time.

Time to settle. Time to recalibrate. Time to let the body lead for a while instead of insisting the mind take control.

There’s a quiet kind of forgiveness in that. Not something spoken, just something allowed. A recognition that we don’t have to be at our best every day to still be ourselves.

We don’t lose who we are in those moments. We just experience a different version of it. One that is slower, quieter, perhaps less certain – but no less real.

Sometimes, it’s enough to trust that we’ll find our way back – in our own time.

Let’s Have a Conversation:

Have you been unwell lately? Was it your body being in distress? How did your mind handle it?

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