Chapter 2: The Whisper That Gets Louder
The Turning Point Series: A Journey Through Personal Transformation
Contemplation is where the seeds of transformation are planted. It’s that moment when you realise something just isn’t sitting right anymore — when a quiet dissatisfaction with the status quo begins to simmer, nudging you to imagine a different way of living. It’s not action, not yet. It’s awareness. A growing restlessness. A dance between doubt and desire, fear and curiosity.
Nature’s Wake-Up Call
After the intensity and inspiration of the digital storytelling conference in Washington D.C., I touched down in Calgary carrying a lot on my mind. I was processing the powerful stories I’d heard, the energy of old friendships rekindled, and the increasing weight of questions I couldn’t quite ignore anymore.
I was visiting a fabulous Australian researcher I’d met through work — someone who had swapped Brisbane’s balmy conditions for Calgary’s rugged beauty and was now exploring ageing through the lens of photography. From the moment I landed, everything felt… expansive. The city hummed with a quiet energy, and the natural world seemed to pull me in.
We walked along the Bow River, surrounded by birdsong and whispering trees, then ventured up to the Canadian Rockies — a soul-stirring journey of vast glaciers, shimmering lakes, and surprise wildlife sightings (yes, including bears!). It was awe-inspiring and humbling. The kind of nature that doesn’t just impress you — it reorients you. I found myself breathing deeper. Thinking clearer. Feeling smaller and yet somehow more whole.
Those mountains, that stillness — they started to chip away at the fog I’d been walking through.
Back in Calgary, my colleague introduced me to other researchers working in the ageing and health space. We spoke about the frustration of working within academic (health research) systems that undervalue creativity and social connection — especially in ageing populations. We swapped dreams of passion projects and the same types of questions kept coming up: What if we could do the work we actually loved? What if we stopped trying to squeeze ourselves into systems that don’t reflect our values?
One night, after another of these long, soul-searching conversations, I sat in the quiet and realised I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I didn’t want to keep feeling burnt out. I didn’t want to keep pushing a creative agenda in spaces that prioritised clinical outcomes. I wanted to live a life where my values weren’t a side hustle — they were the main event.
So I picked up the phone and called my husband.
“I think I need to leave my job,” I said.
“And... maybe it’s time we moved back to France.”
The words just came out. There it was. My “aha” moment.
Laughter, Love, and Lightness
From the rugged wilds of Canada, I travelled to the lush green of Seattle to stay with my best friend from primary school. We’ve known each other since forever — shared countless milestones, teenage secrets, heartbreaks and hilarity. Being with her was like stepping into a time machine and being reminded of who I was before life got so complicated.
We laughed ourselves silly — the kind of deep-belly laughter that makes your cheeks hurt. We reminisced, cooked, drank wine, hiked through forests of ancient Giant Sequoias, and talked long into the night about everything and nothing.
That time together was pure joy — and the perfect antidote to the heaviness of all the inner turmoil I’d been experiencing. It softened the edges of my uncertainty. It reminded me of how nourishing deep connection can be — and how healing it is to be seen, just as you are.
By the time I left Seattle, I still didn’t have all the answers. But something inside me had shifted. I was no longer just contemplating change — I had started imagining it. I wasn’t just questioning what was wrong. I was beginning to feel what could be right.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt hopeful.