The Gnarlier We Get, the More Interesting We Become

The Gnarlier We Get, the More Interesting We Become

 

The Gnarlier We Get, the More Interesting We become

During a recent Community Connections scavenger hunt, I stumbled across an old apple tree on the Haliburton Estates. It immediately caught my attention. Its trunk was twisted and gnarled, its branches weathered by countless seasons. Time had left its mark. It may no longer produce the crisp apples it once did, but standing there, I couldn’t help but think it was absolutely beautiful.

In many ways, we are encouraged to believe the opposite about ourselves. We live in a world that often tells us to hide our age, erase our wrinkles, and chase the appearance of youth. But I don’t want to lose sight of the beauty that comes with growing older.

Our scars tell stories of what we have survived. The lines on our faces speak to the wisdom we’ve earned. Crow’s feet remind us of years spent laughing with people we love. Every mark is evidence that we have lived.

We may no longer have the bodies we had in our twenties. Yet we can still celebrate what our bodies can do: the freedom to walk with a friend, hug a grandchild, tend a garden, paddle a canoe, or simply sit outside and soak in a warm summer evening.

This summer, I’m choosing to focus less on trying to turn back the clock and more on caring for the incredible vehicle I’ve been given. That means nourishing my body with good food, moving in ways that bring me joy, and appreciating every season of life.

Perhaps we’re a little like that old apple tree. A little more weathered. A little more gnarled. But maybe that’s exactly what makes us interesting. And maybe, just maybe, that’s what makes us beautiful.

If you are managing transitions in your life and have not yet taken our Identity and Transition program, starting in September, now is the time to sign up.  Just drop Julie a line or give her a call, jwells@landingstrong.com, 902 472-2972.

Warmly,

Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong

 

 

 

Permission to Rest

Permission to Rest

 

Permission to Rest

I’ll let you in on a secret: I never nap. But this weekend, I snuck two in. I felt a bit guilty given how glorious it was outside (though I’d say the heat wave earns me a pass). So I gave myself permission to do exactly what I pleased. And my naps pleased me.

There can be a pressure that arrives with summer. The long days seem to whisper that we should be filling every hour with all the gifts the warm weather has to offer: barbecues, beach days, weekends at the cottage. Expectations can build up quickly.

But just because something is good, doesn’t mean more is better. Summer offers many gifts, but who says they have to be opened all at once? Participating in small ways – a short walk in nature, a phone call to a friend, a shared meal – can be meaningful. Ten minutes on the porch counts. So does a nap.

The sun takes its time setting in July. Maybe we’re allowed to take our time too.

If you’d like company at your own pace, our community would love to welcome you. Just drop Julie a line or give her a call – jwells@landingstrong.com, 902-472-2972. 

Warmly,

Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong

 

 

Sometimes You Have to Catch the Frog

Sometimes You Have to Catch the Frog

 

Sometimes You Have to Catch the Frog

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,

Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong

 

 

   Creating Homes, Restoring Hope

  Creating Homes, Restoring Hope

 

Creating Homes, Restoring Hope

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,

Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong

 

 

   Manifesting, Missing Water Bottles, and Recovery

  Manifesting, Missing Water Bottles, and Recovery

 

Manifesting, Missing Water Bottles, and Recovery

I was recently experimenting with AI, attempting to improve a photograph I had taken. Wanting to preserve the authenticity of the image, I carefully instructed the program to leave the photo exactly as it was, except for removing a water bottle.

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,

Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong

 

 

The Great Rhubarb Identity Crisis

The Great Rhubarb Identity Crisis

 

The Great Rhubarb Identity Crisis

Recently, one of the veterans in our Landing Strong community generously brought in some rhubarb from his garden. There is something special about receiving food that someone has grown and shared. It carries a sense of connection, care, and community that goes well beyond the ingredient itself.

I took some home and soon found myself standing over the stove, slowly stewing a delicious batch of rhubarb. As the aroma filled the kitchen, my mind wandered to a question I had never really considered before: Is rhubarb a fruit or a vegetable?

As it turns out, botanically speaking, rhubarb is a vegetable. It is the stalk of a plant, much like celery. Yet despite this scientific classification, many of us think of it as a fruit because it is commonly used in pies, jams, and desserts.

The story becomes even more interesting when you look at it from a legal perspective. In 1947, a New York court legally classified rhubarb as a fruit. The reason? Fruit was taxed at a lower rate than vegetables. The classification had little to do with biology and everything to do with how people wanted the plant to be treated.

That got me thinking.
How often do we do the same thing with people?

In particular, I thought about those living with occupational stress injuries, including Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). We often debate what PTSD is. Is it a lifelong condition? A disorder? A disability? Or is it a predictable and normal human response to exposure to extraordinary adversity and trauma?

The answer may be more complex than any single label can capture. Labels can be useful. They help us access services, create understanding, and provide a framework for treatment. But labels can also shape expectations. They can influence how others see us, and perhaps more importantly, how we see ourselves.

The rhubarb didn’t change because a court called it a fruit. It remained exactly what it always was. Likewise, a person is not defined by a diagnosis. A diagnosis may describe an experience, but it does not determine a future. With appropriate care, support, meaningful connection, and thoughtful attention, many people learn to manage the impacts of trauma and build rich, purposeful lives.

Sometimes the most important question is not what something is called, but what helps it flourish.

 

Warmly,

 

Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong

I Always Wanted to Marry a Rockstar

I Always Wanted to Marry a Rockstar

 

I Always Wanted to Marry a Rockstar
Recently, my husband Joe Seagram and his Firefighter partner Dave O’Laughlin received the Life Saving Award from the Order of St. John.

During a tennis match last year, they rushed to assist a fellow player, Alan, who had suddenly collapsed on a nearby court due to cardiac arrest. They immediately began CPR and used an automated external defibrillator. After 20 minutes and five shocks, Al’s heart started beating again. 

The hospital staff later referred to Al as “the tennis miracle” because he made a complete recovery. They called Joe and Dave the Rockstars. 
 
But as meaningful as that recognition was, it wasn’t the most important lesson from the evening. 

At the reception, another award recipient shared his story. Despite 40 minutes of CPR, and without access to a defibrillator, the individual he tried to save did not survive. He admitted feeling uncomfortable accepting an award when the outcome had been so tragic. 

His reaction struck a chord with me because I have heard similar sentiments from many first responders. They carry the weight of outcomes. They replay events in their minds. They wonder what they could have done differently. They feel responsible for losses that were never theirs to control. 

A representative from St. John gently challenged that thinking. The purpose of the award, she explained, is not to recognize successful outcomes. It is to recognize action. It is about people stepping forward, using their skills, and giving another human being every possible chance. 

That conversation stayed with us as we gathered for dinner with Al’s family afterward. We talked about the reality that first responders routinely answer calls where the ending is not the one anyone hoped for. Yet what many first responders may not fully appreciate is that their impact extends far beyond the patient. 

For families, knowing that someone stepped forward matters. Knowing that someone used every skill they had, stayed present in the chaos, and fought for their loved one brings comfort that lasts long after the event itself. Whether the person survives or not, families remember those efforts. 

Al’s wife refers to Joe and Dave as extended family. Another first responder shared that the family connected to a rescue attempt had invited him to reunions over the years. These stories remind us that success is not always measured by survival. 

Sometimes the greatest gift first responders give is not a life saved, but the certainty that their loved one did not face their worst moment alone. 

Trauma has a way of binding people together. So do acts of courage, compassion, and service. At Landing Strong, we see this every day. Together we regroup, heal, and find our new way forward. 

Perhaps that’s what being a Rockstar really means.

 

Warmly,

 

Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong

A Moment to Reflect, A Community to Celebrate

A Moment to Reflect, A Community to Celebrate

 

A Moment to Reflect, A Community to Celebrate

Last Friday was a special day at Landing Strong as we gathered for our Annual Community Celebration and Artisanal Fair at Walker’s Restaurant in Windsor.

In the midst of our busy lives and important work, it can be easy to keep looking ahead to the next goal, the next project, or the next challenge. But there is tremendous value in taking a moment to pause, reflect, and appreciate the view.

Over the past year, our community has continued to grow in remarkable ways. Together, we have created opportunities, built meaningful connections, supported one another through challenges, and celebrated successes both big and small.

When I look back on the year, I am filled with pride; not only in what we have accomplished as an organization, but in the strength, resilience, and generosity of our members.  Some of our greatest achievements cannot be measured by numbers alone. They are found in the relationships formed, the confidence gained, the goals reached, and the moments of belonging experienced throughout our community. These peak experiences remind us why our work matters.

The collective contribution of the Landing Strong community is truly staggering. Every member, volunteer, partner, and supporter plays a role in creating positive change, and last Friday, we celebrated that shared impact.

Thank you to our artisans, musical performers, staff, board members and of course, Landing Strong community members for being a part of it.

A special thanks to our funders from DND, Office of Addictions and Mental Health, MHFNS, VAC, HICC and Dollar-A-Day Foundation for making this all possible.   

As we pause to appreciate the view, I encourage everyone to take a moment to reflect back on the journey, appreciate how far we have come, and celebrate all that we have accomplished together.

 

Warmly,

 

Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong

There’s Beauty Just Around the Corner

There’s Beauty Just Around the Corner

 

There’s Beauty Just Around the Corner

There’s beauty just around the corner. Sometimes quite literally.

We live in a world that is deeply connected. The pace can feel relentless. Notifications buzz, inboxes fill, calendars overflow, and before we know it, our days can become more about reacting than truly living. Lately, I’ve been feeling an intentional pull to push back against that rhythm.

This month, I am creating more opportunities for pause. I am resisting the urge to turn on my computer or check emails on weekends. Instead, I am choosing to slow down and allow the beauty around me to fully pervade my senses. I’m exploring nature, wandering through surrounding communities, and making room for unplanned moments.

During a recent weekend’s wandering through Wolfville and Yarmouth, I was struck by the murals tucked around street corners and quiet spaces. Bright colours, thoughtful artistry, and stories painted onto brick walls reminded me that beauty often waits patiently for us to notice it. Not in grand gestures, but in everyday places we rush past too quickly.

I also noticed something else: when I slowed down, I became more open. More chatty. More willing to linger in conversation with people who were strangers only moments before. Those happenstance connections felt grounding and deeply human. I am embracing a slower movement; one that values presence over productivity and curiosity over urgency.

Perhaps this is your invitation, too: to slow down, turn the corner, and notice the beauty that has been waiting for you all along.

 

Warmly,

 

Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong

Small Acts, Big Victories

Small Acts, Big Victories

 

Small Acts, Big Victories

 This past Monday, six enthusiastic participants from Landing Strong’s Community Connections program gathered for a community clean-up day. The weather could not have been more inviting, and neither could the spirit of those who arrived eager to make a positive difference in our local community.

At first glance, picking up litter may seem like a small act. Yet for many of our participants, opportunities to contribute carry a much deeper significance. Recovery is not simply about reducing symptoms or managing challenges. It is about rebuilding identity, rediscovering purpose, and carving out a new sense of who we can be beyond the uniform.

One of our veteran volunteers reflected on the experience:
“I woke up that morning feeling excited for the first time in a long time. In the past, responsibilities often brought anxiety and fear. But this time was different. I was looking forward to getting together with like-minded people and doing something productive. It may seem small, but it was a massive win for me. It has been a very long time since I have looked forward to anything. I feel like I’m getting my feelings back.”

The desire to contribute is a fundamental human need. It allows us to feel connected to something larger than ourselves and reminds us that we still have value, purpose, and gifts to offer.

This week, our community became a little cleaner. More importantly, six individuals took another step forward, defined not only by healing, but by contribution, connection, and a renewed sense of possibility.

I feel proud to count myself as a member of the team.

 

Warmly,

 

Belinda Seagram, Ph.D., R. Psych.
Executive Director, Landing Strong