At a Crossroads: Choosing Love Over Fear

Before diving into today’s theme, a brief update is needed. It follows my post from December 23, in which I shared details about my surgery. This context matters, so that what follows can fully make sense.

When Hope Returns… Then Collapses

As I wrote at the time, the surgery itself went well. For about six days, I experienced no pain at all. I was carried by an immense sense of hope, convinced I would return to work on January 4, transformed—almost reborn.

Then reality caught up with me.

The lead that had been implanted to stimulate the occipital nerve shifted—what my neurosurgeon refers to as migration. The result: it was no longer effective. This is rare, but it happens in about 10% of cases. I just happened to be part of that minority. A new surgery is therefore required to reposition the lead.

This third procedure was scheduled for last week. However, due to the current situation in our hospitals related to COVID-19, it was cancelled. And as of today, no one knows when it will take place.

The moment the stimulation stopped, the pain returned. Brutal. Overwhelming. Hard to manage.

And yet, I have 34 years of experience living with this pain, the last four being the most intense I have ever known. Despite medication, walks, naps, conversations with loved ones—nothing worked. Absolutely nothing.

Looking back, I believe what made this episode so intense was that, for the first time in a very long while, I had experienced a treatment that truly worked. Falling back into pain while knowing that relief existed—so close, yet unreachable—only magnified my frustration.

Making Space for What Hurts

Even though, outwardly, I maintained a positive attitude—“it’s okay, this is just an obstacle, I’m not discouraged”—I was carrying deep disappointment. It took me nearly three days to fully acknowledge what I was feeling and to put words to it, during a walk with my husband.

I also felt a sense of shame. I had written the December 23 post with so much momentum, and I began to wonder if I had spoken too soon, almost as if I had caused this setback myself. Receiving messages from people checking in on me became uncomfortable. I found myself repeatedly explaining: “actually… here’s what’s happening.”

My first week back at work was particularly difficult. One more obstacle. There were moments when I truly wondered how I would get through it—moments when I felt despair quietly, insidiously creeping in. Holding on required an amount of energy I wasn’t sure I had.

Last weekend, I made a conscious decision to do small things that would help refill my energy reserves. I signed up for a webinar, then for a cooking class (thank you, Jean-François Plante). I cooked, went for walks, and spent meaningful time with my family.

Gradually, over the course of the week, I felt my drive returning. My energy too. I accepted that I could not do more than my 7.5 hours a day—and that it was enough. The pain was still there, but it no longer dominated the narrative of my days.

When Dr. El-Helou’s office confirmed that the surgery had been cancelled, I wasn’t surprised. I welcomed the disappointment… and then I moved on. I had already made space for that emotion. It no longer needed all of my attention.

Choosing Love, Even in Uncertainty

This morning, I attended a webinar led by Dr. Sophie Maffolini on Caring for Our Mental Health Without Shame. Everything clicked.

One of the central reflections was this question: do we choose the vicious cycle of fear, or the virtuous circle of love?

For me, the answer came quickly. I choose love.

I cannot control what is happening in the world, but I can choose to be at peace with myself. I can choose, when I have the energy, to do good around me—through my work, through volunteering, through simple presence.

One sentence I heard this morning stayed with me: there are no positive or negative emotions, only comfortable or uncomfortable ones. This deeply echoes what my coach, Isabelle Lanthier, often teaches me: every emotion has a role to play, even fear, even shame.

What matters is becoming aware of what lives within us, making space for those emotions so they can move through us—and eventually ease.

That is exactly what I needed after my surgery: to acknowledge disappointment, anger, shame, and fear of the unknown—of this third surgery yet to come. Today, these emotions no longer consume all my energy. They no longer dictate my focus.

Opening Options, Reclaiming Choice

There is no doubt in my mind that we are at a crossroads. It takes only a few minutes on social media or watching the news to see that this pandemic is amplifying cracks that already existed in our society.

More than ever, choosing between fear and love becomes an essential act of self-compassion.

If you are feeling stuck or uncertain, I invite you to open your options. Submitting an application, exploring a new path, considering a possibility—these are acts that restore a sense of agency. Opening doors does not mean you must walk through them today.

We regain control of our lives when we have choices.

I would like to close by acknowledging my friend Armand Doucet, whose post this morning deeply inspired me. He has chosen to do something every day for himself, for his family, and for his community. Yesterday, that meant helping shovel his neighbourhood alongside his young daughter.

Today, for my part, I chose to attend this webinar, to cook nourishing meals for my family, and to write this post—for you, and for myself.

Have a good week.

And I look forward to meeting you again, very soon, in love.

At a crossroads, choosing love becomes an act of courage. One step at a time. One breath at a time.