A few weekends ago, I headed to the cottage looking forward to exactly what so many of us need from time to time – a little peace, quiet, and some well-earned rest.

Instead, sometime in the middle of the night, I was jolted awake by what can only be described as the world’s loudest bullfrog. It wasn’t a gentle croak from across the lake. It sounded like someone had placed a bullhorn beside the bed and hit repeat. Every time I started to drift back to sleep… there it was again.

The next day, motivated by a desire to help me get some much-needed rest the following night, my husband Joe headed out, tracked down the very vocal culprit, and relocated him to the opposite side of the lake. It wasn’t the most conventional afternoon activity, but it made for a much quieter night – and I slept wonderfully.

It made me think about the things that keep us awake at night.

Sometimes it’s a noisy bullfrog. Sometimes it’s worry, grief, chronic pain, or the nightmares that often accompany operational stress injuries. Whatever the source, poor sleep has a way of touching every part of our lives. We become less patient, less focused, less resilient, and the challenges of the next day can feel much bigger than they really are.

One of the lessons I’ve learned is that hoping the problem will simply disappear rarely works. Whether it’s a frog outside the window or something much deeper within us, lasting relief usually begins when we’re willing to face it directly.

At Landing Strong, we often remind people that healing doesn’t happen by pretending the noise isn’t there. It begins by identifying what’s keeping us awake and taking one thoughtful step toward addressing it.

Sometimes, you just have to catch the frog.
 

Warmly,

There are few things more important than having a place to call home.

Over the past year, our Homelessness Prevention Project team has had the privilege of supporting more than 90 veterans and first responders facing housing or food insecurity. That number represents far more than statistics. Behind each one is a person, a family, a story, and an opportunity to help someone rediscover a sense of safety and stability.

At Landing Strong, we believe this work is about far more than finding housing. It’s about creating homes. Home is not simply four walls and a roof – it is a feeling. It is the peace of knowing you have somewhere safe to return to, a place where healing can begin and hope can take root.

This is especially important at a time when so many people are struggling to make ends meet. No one should have to choose between paying rent and putting food on the table, and no one should have to navigate those challenges alone.

Our heartfelt thanks go to Charlie, Jen, Miranda, and Catharine, whose compassion, persistence, and creativity have helped make this project such a success. We are also deeply grateful to Stephanie and Alex for their many contributions. Although they are no longer active members of the team, their efforts helped build the strong foundation we continue to grow today.

This work is only possible because of remarkable collaboration. Together with Infrastructure, Culture and Communities Canada, Veterans Affairs Canada, VETS Canada, the Veteran Farm Project, the Office of Addictions and Mental Health, the Mental Health Foundation of Nova Scotia, Dollar A Day Foundation, and many other community partners, we are working toward a shared goal: ensuring that no veteran or first responder falls through the cracks.

We’re also excited to welcome Jonah Appleton to the team. Jonah will be joining us part-time this summer before moving into a full-time role this fall, and we look forward to the energy and compassion he will bring.

Thank you to everyone who continues to believe that healing begins with connection – and that sometimes, the first step toward recovery is simply helping someone find their way home.

If you are in need of support, just drop Julie a line or give her a call jwells@landingstrong.com 902 472-2972 to find more information on our upcoming programs.

 

Warmly,

To my surprise, it did exactly as I asked.

Later that same day, I went searching for my own water bottle, a trusted light green Nalgene that faithfully accompanies me almost everywhere, only to discover it too had mysteriously disappeared from my life.

Naturally, this led me to wonder: what magical qualities might AI possess that could somehow extend into the real world? Imagine if anything we no longer wished to carry could simply vanish through a voice command. Clutter? Gone. Laundry piles? Disappeared. Emotional pain? Deleted with a simple instruction.

If only recovery from trauma and injury worked that way. The truth is, healing rarely comes through avoidance or erasure. In recovery, the goal is not to make difficult experiences disappear, but rather to understand them, carry them differently, and slowly loosen their grip on our lives. We cannot simply edit out the hard parts of being human. But perhaps we can learn to soften them with compassion, connection, and courage.

Rather than running from technology, I find myself leaning in — remaining curious about what it might teach us about ourselves. Perhaps the real magic is not in making things disappear, but in discovering new ways to heal, adapt, and create meaning.

Although… come to think of it, I still haven’t seen my husband recently.

Warmly,