I once heard the comedian Larry David say that the statute of limitations for wishing someone Happy New Year runs out at three days, maximum four. Well that may be, but I’ll take a moment to welcome everyone to another new year anyway. Just pause and breathe with that. What a gift it is to be alive in this world and be able to begin another season of life!

As most of you who have read this blog before know, I am a curious and reflective person. For me this is fairly intentional, but like everything it ebbs and flows according to the space I make for it in my life. That said, I can usually set my watch for this time of year to be more reflective, as it is the only real vacation time I take each year. The break over the holiday season and the slow movement into a new year has me wavering between what was, what is, and what may be.

This past year has indeed been one for the ages for me personally. I shared with you back in April 2025 (A Tipping Point) that I had been diagnosed with epilepsy at the ripe age of 51. To say the year was difficult would be an understatement. There was an incredible amount of adjustment in so many areas of my life and a great deal of struggle as well. But there were also so many opportunities for learning and unlearning. There was much time for reflection and a lot of time to just sit with it all.

The break over the holiday season and the slow movement into a new year has me wavering between what was, what is, and what may be...

Here are some of the main things I took from my experience this past year.

Change
While change is inevitable, abrupt change that pulls the rug from under your feet and doesn’t let up is really hard. The tricky part with illness is that usually it’s not just the symptoms of the illness that one needs to adjust to, it’s also the medication/therapies/treatments designed to help that require a measure of adjustment. Most of my spring and early summer (read early turf season here) was taken up by a weekly/bi weekly adjustment to stronger doses of anti-seizure medication that left me in rough shape for days at a time. Without the support of my family and co-workers, I’m not really sure how I would have made it though (more on that later).

Acceptance
Back in April, I mentioned that accepting the fact that I have the disease was a key factor in beginning to move through the adjustment process. Since then, there have been so many other opportunities to flex my acceptance muscles. I had to accept that I simply couldn’t do all of the things that I wanted or, more importantly, felt like I had to do.

This meant saying 'no' a lot. And trust me… I have a long history of struggle with saying no. But in this situation I had no choice in the matter. If I plowed ahead and did things the old way, I paid a significant price in the subsequent days. This was in full effect with regard to my turf life. I have always been a Superintendent who showed up early and started the day with the crew. It was a big part of how I perceived myself as a turf manager. But the events of the past year prevented that; I simply couldn’t be there early because I desperately needed the extra rest and sleep. It was such an illuminating lesson in control, letting things go and allowing the season to play out. It’s not that I wasn’t involved, it’s just I wasn’t involved the way I was used to.  And that was hard, until it wasn’t.

The other element of acceptance that I have come to realize is that any type of healing (or any part of life really) isn’t a linear process. Some days you take a few steps forward, some days are sideways, some backwards and some are more neutral. And that’s all ok. Yes, I get frustrated by times, but taking the non linear perspective helps me to realize that it all ebbs and flows and nothing is permanent.

Some days you take a few steps forward, some days are sideways, some backwards and some are more neutral. And that’s all ok.

Appreciating the Smaller Things
Beyond the more major adjustments, there were also many things in the background that had a big impact on my normal routines. Of these things, two stood out more than the rest. The first was simply being active and moving my body. It was really hard to even go for a quiet walk in the woods by myself, let alone walk in a straight line on many days. As a historically active person, this adjustment was hard. As things got better, I very much appreciated reconnecting with physical activity.

The second one was not being able to drive. You don’t know how much you take something like driving for granted until you can’t. It is a real blow to your independence to have to learn to depend on others to get you places. It helps you realize how much of what you took for granted before actually was a privilege. The privilege of having a driving license and vehicles at your disposal is not something everyone has.  I learned to be ok with my radius of travel reducing dramatically, and also learned to appreciate the slower pace of things. One of the gifts that I received as a result of this difficulty was getting to be a passenger while in a vehicle. It’s a completely different experience and one that I learned to really enjoy.

Learning and Unlearning
After months of feeling like I was on the deck of a boat at sea, learning to stand still and upright became the focus of my rehabilitation. It sounds so simple, but it gave me the opportunity to tune into my patterns and shift how I inhabit my physical world. This practice also gave my internal navigation system a chance to heal and re-establish my internal compass.

As I mentioned earlier, physical movement (or lack thereof) was something that I was constantly playing with. As things began to settle down in terms of my medication adjustments, I began to pick my spots and move when I felt good. As someone who was used to going all out with exercise in the past, it felt like I was Bambi on ice most of the time. Through it all I began to embrace the idea of gentle movement. Things like Tai Chi, yoga and more nuanced breathing exercises became the norm. It was a welcome change to my usual, more intense approach. This style of movement also allowed my nervous system to heal and begin to regain healthier functioning.

Embracing the Pause
Along with my day job, I also had a lot of other things on the go to help keep a roof over our heads. Writing this blog, travelling to speak at conferences, teaching and consulting locally were all a big part of my daily life. A year ago all that came to a grinding halt and it was a really difficult transition... financially and personally. I kept reminding myself that it was all temporary, but in the back of your mind you sometimes have that voice that tells you, “Maybe this is how it is now.” I learned to sit with and make peace with that voice, but I’ll be honest, it shakes your confidence a bit. Leaning into letting go is a practice for the long haul and truly anyone can benefit from it.

Leaning into letting go is a practice for the long haul and truly anyone can benefit from it.

The pause also made me take stock of my priorities and realize that I can’t do everything. This has helped with the inevitable transition back to these activities. I’m happy to report that I had my second speaking engagement of the past year shortly before the holidays and it went really well. The first one was days after my diagnosis and I was still in full speed ahead mode in my own mind and fully in “push through” mode right down to having my kids drive me to that off island gig. There has been a lot of learning since last April; now I have a chance to make it stick going forward.  I have a few conference speaking gigs lined up over the next few months. I am cautiously excited about it all.

Limitless Gratitude
When you go through an experience like this, the feeling of gratitude tends to swell up quickly. My family, my friends and my closest coworkers have all been so incredibly supportive and loving through it all. Folks stepped up over and over again, whether it was to drive me somewhere, take on extra responsibility at work, or even sit quietly and let me share my troubles.

And last but not least I need to apply a heaping dose of gratitude and kindness to myself. Somehow (for better or for worse) I kept working through it all, save the very worst days. As the main breadwinner in the household my family needed my income to keep the home fires burning. Even though it was trying by times, getting to be at work helped my own mental well being. Having somewhere to be other than sitting at home ruminating about the situation, made things a little more bearable.

To be honest, as I think back on it all I am overwhelmed and a bit teary eyed. I am so grateful to have so many people in my life that I know I can lean on during difficult times. It fills my heart to no end.

A Special Acknowledgment
As I close this post off I want to take a moment to acknowledge and thank someone very special who is in the process of retiring from the world of turf. The founder of TurfNet and the maestro himself, Peter McCormick, is hanging up his spurs and transitioning to some well deserved personal time.

I am so grateful for Peter in so many ways, but most of all because he took a chance on me so many years ago. He gave me (someone with zero writing experience) a platform to explore and create the blog you are reading right now. This experience has given me so much insight into my own personal experience and the experiences of so many others. It set the stage for me to travel, speak and meet so many wonderful people over the past decade or so and also pushed me to places I never thought possible.

I sincerely wish Peter and his family nothing but peace, ease and joy as they move through this next chapter of their journey. The wider TurfNet family will definitely miss his presence. Certainly we are all richer for having his gifts to the turf community as part of our lives.

Thanks so much for reading and be well.