And it felt like everything went.
2024 was a juggernaut. It was the year where I’d felt like even a slight breeze could push me one way or the next, but even I was surprised by the veracity of the storm that flew me straight off the cliff and into a spiralling abyss.
It was the year where anything goes. And everything went.
When I poured my heart out in my reflection of 2023, I had an endearing sense of hope.
Because I can. I can, for the first time, feel satisfied that 2023 did what it was meant to do – it came up to my doghouse door and dared me to leave behind the inhibitions, and try. Try on independence in real, meaningful ways. Try new friendships. Try travelling. Try sports. Try hobbies. Try setting a goal and seeing it through. Try focusing on what’s been good and leave the bad stuff behind. Siphon down the noise till it’s nothing more than a background television playing in the lobby you can simply ignore. And it dared me to try on my forties in ways I never otherwise thought imaginable.
Though thankful for the lessons 2023 taught me – independence, shirking inhibitions, gathering courage and strength to travel – it couldn’t have prepared me for what 2024 had to offer.
By year’s end, I was jobless, relationshipless, and living alone indefinitely.
I mean, come on now it’s all a matter of perspective:
I have grown my small business, learned to eat alone at the table, and become an empty-nester.
It was the year that anything goes, and everything went. Or at the very least, everything I thought made me who I was.
I was a radio announcer. I was someone’s someone. I was a full-time Mama. And 2024 asked me to quit identifying as each of these things.
So if anything goes, then instead of mourning everything that went, I decided to try anything else instead.
When I (alongside many, many employees) lost my job in July, many of my former colleagues leaped into new careers in our industry. One by one, I watched them apply, audition, and acquire radio gigs, to television opportunities, to sales jobs.
I didn’t.
I went to my Dad, my accountant and my financial adviser. We discussed at length what I thought I should do next. And the only thing we could muster up was – why not do everything. And that became the mantra of the back half of the year.
First – a recap on January to July, before I landed in the eye of the shitticane.
Jayda turned 23, Colby and his girlfriend moved into their first home, and he muscled his way to 21 by mid-summer, and while Kid C wouldn’t turn 18 until the fall, her personal victories included graduating high school and being accepted into college.
Wedding season was well underway, and gigging was beginning to dominate my life full-time again. (Some people choose Christmas, but those months between May and October when I’m witness to love story after love story will forever be my favourite.)
Health-wise, I came to my family doctor and expressed my concerns about weight loss, peri-menopause and general anxieties I was facing as I stare down the barrel of middle age. The blood work and tests revealed I was basically anemic, and needed to begin a vitamin regimen. But moreso, we agreed I’d take a stab at Wegovy. (Let’s get real. Wegovy was taking a stab of me.)
It’s not an easy thing to say out loud. I’m not ashamed. It’s the cultural stigma placed on people who opt into a weight loss drug or tool. I’ve not been dishonest by how I lost over thirty pounds this year. But it isn’t easy when you’ve got thousands of eyes and critical opinions directed at you all at once.
The long and short of it – the decision was made based on my age, health, weight, and attempts at meaningful weight loss over the years. In 2020, I was over 240lbs. By 2021, I was down to 163. In 2022, I saw 210. In 2023, 185. By the beginning of 2024, I was 205. Nothing was sticking. Not diet. Not exercise. Not for want, desire, hope, trust, gym membership. My doctor and I agreed to Wegovy. And used in conjunction with healthy eating and exercise, it’s worked for me. (Talk to your doctor before you decide on something for yourself.)
And as I perused through the year, I took friends on social media along with me. I continued my yearly pledge to post daily “Mug Shots,” as I reflected on the day to come, the plans I’d made, and inspiring quotes that found their way to my newsfeed.
@justhandlewithcare on Insta
What started as musings over coffee has become daily blogs. In 2025, you can join me with your own Mug Shot.
Most importantly, the strongest addition to my life this year was therapy. I began seeing Mark this summer. Some say you can’t reinvent the wheel. I don’t buy it. Mark isn’t trying to change me. He’s been giving me the tools, the encouragement, and the liberation to (for lack of a better cliche) help me become the best version of myself. And every session, he adds another tool to the kit. In the six months I’ve been seeing him, Mark has reduced my panic attacks, introduced new breathing exercises, run EMDR on me to help me cope with my PTSD, and assisted me in my formerly hyper-reactive tendencies. I’m a work in progress. But every session, I’m a little better for where I was before I leant myself to meaningful therapy. (5 stars. Highly recommend.)
2024. The year anything goes. Including trepidation, fear, and daily panic attacks.
By the time I lost my job in July, I was ready for a break. What began as a threatening tsunami actually became an ocean I couldn’t wait to set course on. It was daunting, and scary, and unnerving, and fearful at first. But eventually, I realized it was more a tidal wave crashing through the dam of barriers I didn’t even know I’d allowed to be built up around me. It was time to sail.
With freedom at my fingertips, my youngest child headed off to college, and a great big world out there to see, I pulled on my tightest cape of courage and took off for England to meet my penpal (the UK Carrie Humphries) in August, and New Zealand to stay with my cousin and her family less than two months later. World travel had truly begun.
And while I was on a quest to figure out who the hell I actually was, part of me longed for a batch of people I barely knew anymore. I’m not sure the exact count of how many first cousins I have from my father’s side, but I was ready to start building back those friendships. And this year, I’ve seen more of them, spent more time with them, and have gotten to know them better than I have in my entire adult life. Cousins are your first friends. And now I’m stoked to have them back.
And while I joked, and made TikToks, and berated myself for being an “unemployed bum,” nothing could have been further from the truth.
While I scoped the “help wanted” ads, checked the daily job boards, I wasn’t keen on resting on my laurels. With wedding season behind me, a new pastime floated my way.
In New Zealand, I met a woman who claimed to be a medium. Someone who did card readings in this seriously dope shop that looked like it could have been lifted from the set of The Craft. She took both my hands in hers, and asked: do you paint?
A hobbyist at heart, I could never be someone to refer to themselves as an “artist.” Am I painter? Sure. I paint holiday windows. But how could this gal from the other side of the world know that? She didn’t even know my name.
But sure as shit, when I returned home to Canada, the holiday windows took off like bat out of hell. And a huge thank you to everyone who booked this hobbyist to come out and take care of their front windows, storefronts, and businesses this Christmas.
The tide is high, and the sun has all but set on 2024.
The year where anything goes, and everything went, ushering in a wave of change and transformation. How I perceive myself. How I conduct myself. Who I am, who I’m capable of being, and how I’ll handle both in tandem.
I toe a fine line between everything I do share, and what I keep private for me and my little corner of the world. It’s tough to say – here’s my whole life in all its transparency – except, not this little piece, this little piece is for just me and my heart. But that’s what I’ve learned is the most important in being authentic online, in person, and in my life. I am honest enough to say: there’s a part of my life that off-limits. Every museum I’ve been to, every concert I’ve seen, every hospital I’ve visited, every business, every public place has a little space that’s cordoned off for employees only. I’ve learned that’s okay. I’ve learned that it’s alright to say – this part is for me. Whatever it may be.
To Jules – a year of friendship behind us. You truly have become my ride or die. And I probably would have if you hadn’t ridden out this storm with me this year. For everything. Every text. Every meme. Every call. Every dinner, FRONTS game, time together. Every coffee. Every 20x a day. Thank you.
To Maggie – you firecracker. You are the constant. My always and any time. Every time I needed somewhere to lay my head. Someone to chat to, vent to, cry to, whisk me away from the mundane and ordinary, I know where to find you. Thank you.
To my parents – thank you for releasing me conventionality. You both have given me the strength to go against the grain – in everything. From how I dress, speak, talk, to how I career, parent, relationship. You two have accepted me as the pirate I am, and boast about it. Thank you.
To my biological sisters, my soul sisters, my sisters from other misters, my roommate, and my friends – you girls are how I make it through every day. Knowing each of you are there, ready to ride at dawn. I love you all.
To my kiddos – you three may think you made me simply a Mama. But actually, you made me a better person because the three of you are the best creatures I have ever known. To call you mine is a responsibility I take with care and pride each and every day. I am so proud of each of you.
And to you. This may be my reflection of 2024, but I hope it serves as a love letter for those still pulling out the shrapnel of the blast. No one said it would be easy. No one said every year, everything, every day was going to be the best. They just encourage that we live each of them like they might be our last.
It’s really simple to get angry. Get pissed off. Get mad that it didn’t turn out. That it didn’t go our way. That it didn’t go to plan. That we were sailing in the direction the goddamn map pointed us to, but now we’ve hit rough waters and it’ll take more than a compass to guide us out of the storm. That part is the easy part. The get real good and shitty part.
2024 – The Year Where Anything Goes; along with it, my fear, my worry, my doubt, my unhappiness.
Come on in, 2025. I’ve made room for you.
-c xx
CARE HUMPHRIES 
Purge the bad and embrace the positive from ‘24.
Rip into ‘25 like a badass.