Growth: The Seasons of Becoming
"Growth isn’t always graceful. Sometimes, it’s messy, painful, and uncertain. But each chapter has helped me become the woman I am today. Here’s my journey-through the seasons of my childhood, high school and post-secondary." -Shayla
Dandelions are the official flower of the military child
Growing up in a military family is a unique experience, and each story is distinct. Military culture is a different world compared to civilian life. As a child, I longed to spend time with my dad, who I adored.Throughout my childhood, my dad faced multiple deployments, with his last tour—in Afghanistan—happening when I was in Grade 2. When he returned, I sensed a change in him, even at a young age. I didn’t fully grasp the extent of his experiences; I just knew he was away serving our country and that he loved us deeply.
Eventually, he was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), a consequence of his traumatic experiences. In military terms, this is often called an operational stress injury (OSI), encompassing various mental health challenges following service.Now, as an adult and a social worker, I understand how an OSI can disrupt one’s thinking and decision-making. My parents have shown unwavering commitment to each other and to us, their children. My mom is the strongest and most beautiful woman I know and she and i aspire to be the woman and one day mother she is for her husband and children.
While I once felt resentment toward the military for the hardships it brought us, my family’s faith as devoted Christians provided us with a solid foundation. Our love for the Lord above all else guided us through challenging times. We practiced gratitude during our moments together, cherishing every second we have together. If anything my family is a little too close. Today, I have a carrer as a family counsellor, primarily supporting military families. I further have voulenteer with my local Military Family Resource Center andat a local urban flower farm.
I once had complicated feelings about wearing a poppy, as it symbolized my dad’s pain. But this journey has softened my heart, turning pain into purpose—a calling to uplift those who serve. I now view the military lifestyle with deep respect, recognizing the immense sacrifice and commitment involved. It is an honor to represent such a resilient community, both on stage and in my work.
My Education
🌼 “Growing up, I never thought I was 'smart enough', but I have a desire to learn and knew I was determined to succeed.”
Resilience in Bloom: My High School Years
Throughout my four years of high school, I was quietly growing through one of the most transformative seasons of my life—a time marked by invisible challenges and the slow, steady emergence of strength. I was on a journey to figure out who I was and who I hoped to become. And while I tried to keep moving forward, I’d be lying if I said it was easy.
Academically and physically, I struggled. I had a diagnosed learning disability, but I refused medication at the time, and was learning in French (my second language), but at the time, I refused treatment. I was also recovering from a life-altering spinal surgery—something I speak more about on the Drought page of my site. Most of my energy was spent on healing and rest, not rigorous study or thinking about planning for my future.
And while it’s easy to feel like I fell behind, it's hard not to compare my journey to others when you go to school with a twin sibling. I now see I was doing my best to survive under extraordinary circumstances.
There were few extracurriculars at my school, and I couldn’t participate in sports due to my recovery and scoliosis. I wasn’t popular, but I had a deep desire to be involved. I tried out for sports teams and ran for student council all four years, never once being elected. But even then, the seeds of leadership were quietly being planted. My parents always encourages and supported their children to explore and expand their gifts.
Thankfully, I found purpose and belonging elsewhere—through dance, volunteering, my job as a lifeguard, and my church youth group. Teaching dance became a form of therapy. I tutored children in reading and math at my local library, led arts and crafts, and served as a reading buddy. At church, I participated in food drives, wrote cards for seniors, and helped organize outreach projects like Operation Christmas Child.
In Grade 12, I was honoured to represent my school at a regional event in Ottawa that recognized students who embodied Catholic core values—an experience I still hold close to my heart.
That same year, I had the opportunity to travel to the Dominican Republic with my church youth group. It was there, while visiting a local school, that I felt something shift. Dispite language barriers I was able to connect and teach children a craft and as my group leaders mentioned they were drawn to me. I believe God began revealing my heart a gift for working with children and truly showing me I have a heart to serve others. As the afternoon came to a close, I was asked by my leaders to pray over the teachers and students, and in that moment, I felt a quiet but clear confirmation of a greater calling.
Though I often said I "hated" school, I think what I truly hated was the feeling of not belonging. Thankfully, my parents never stopped nurturing my passions. Looking back, I realize the environment I was in may have stifled my motivation to learn—but it never dimmed my desire to grow.
Being placed in the applied academic stream deeply affected my confidence. I believed I was “stupid” for not being in the same stream as my twin, and I often felt emotionally unsafe in the classroom. Harassment from peers left me anxious and self-conscious. And yet—I didn’t give up.
At graduation, I received two bursaries: one for demonstrating resilience and another as a scholarship to continue my studies in French at Collège Boréal in Sudbury.
From those ashes, something beautiful began to bloom.
Dance
🌷 “Dance is more than movement—it's healing. It's my sanctuary.”
Dance has always been a thread of joy and expression throughout my life. As a little girl, I loved wearing sparkly dresses, jumping in puddles, and embracing all things dramatic and theatrical. My parents supported my dreams and allowed me to explore various activities—but dance was always my favorite.Different dance styles allowed me to express the full range of my emotions: ballet brought calm, jazz was bold and sassy, and tap challenged my memory and focus. In my teens, I began training in Russian ballet on weekends in Ottawa. When I was 16, I completed an intensive two-week ballet summer camp at Quinte Ballet School in Belleville, Ontario—an experience I truly cherished.However, after learning more about the physical limitations of my spinal fusion, I came to the difficult realization that becoming a professional ballerina wasn’t possible. I grieved that dream—but I didn’t give up on dance. Instead, I reimagined it. I shifted my goal from becoming a ballerina to becoming a dance teacher.After high school, I moved to Sudbury and joined Dance Evolution while studying Early Childhood Education at Collège Boréal. The welcoming and uplifting atmosphere reignited my passion for movement. With training in ballet and contemporary, I proudly became part of the pre-competitive dance team.For me, dance is more than movement—it’s healing. It is my sanctuary and my gateway to escape the chaos of life.
College
“I said yes to the unknown because I knew deep down that I was ready to grow.”🌿
College 2014-2016: The Journey that Shaped Me
After high school, I moved to Northern Ontario to pursue my passion for working with children by enrolling in the Early Childhood Education program at Collège Boréal.
I was excited to begin this new chapter—but in my very first lecture, something was said that completely crushed my spirit. A faculty member remarked:
“Working with young children is undervalued in our society. When you graduate, you’ll be in a hectic work environment, earning just above minimum wage. The government doesn’t prioritize early childhood education and would rather parents stay home or fund childcare themselves.”
Those words broke my heart. At just 18, five hours away from home, I didn’t have a Plan B. I had chosen this program because others had seen my gift with children and believed in me. I hoped to build a meaningful career—one rooted in purpose and passion. But that single comment caused me to doubt everything. I began develop unhelpful schemes internalizing lies about my worth: “I’m stupid. I’m not good enough. I don’t deserve success.”
Still, I kept showing up. On the outside, I pretended to be thriving—I curated the image was "perfection" life on social media and played the role of the “perfect Christian” But inside, I was hurting, my objective version of perfection led me to feel as if i kept reaching short leading to doubt and stress.
I knew I had potential—I just needed time and space to grow. I was living away from home, learning how to navigate life on my own, and slowly, something began to shift.
I fell in love with my program and felt deeply supported by my professors and peers. My teachers recognized my strengths and treated me with genuine care. For the first time, I began to see myself not just as a student, but as a leader and a learner with something valuable to offer.
The Student Accessibility Centre at College Boréal became a place of refuge. For the first time, I felt safe in a learning environment—and that sense of safety reignited my love of learning. One of my proudest moments was having my academic project chosen to be published in a francophone magazine for educators.
But college wasn’t without its hardships.
In my second year, I experienced a traumatic event that deeply impacted my mental health. I copes in maladaptive ways which my the end of the school year lead to an eating disorder diagnosis. I truly has a wonderful team of interdisciplinary professional supporting me. I started taking prescribed medication for my learning disability which made learning feel effortless for once in my life. With the support of a school social worker, a counsellor, and a psychologist, a dietician and a psychiatrist, I completed my final year with distinction—and was awarded a scholarship for resilience once again.
Even more affirming, I was offered a position at the college’s lab daycare, where I would go on to support students and contribute to the same nurturing environment I had once leaned on so heavily.
That same year, I applied to Nipissing University’s Child and Family Studies program. I wasn’t sure I’d get in. University had always felt like an impossible dream. I never thought I was smart enough.
But I had fallen in love with learning. And I was done letting the opinions of high school boys, or anyone else, define my value.
I am a woman of faith—and I know that God has already declared His promises for me.
Soon after graduation I was hospitalized for a little under a month.
I wanted so badly to succeed but at the cost of me physical and mental health. I made the difficult but necessary decision to defer my university acceptance for a year to focus on healing. When I was in the hospital my mom shared a vision she had while praying. She saw God walking beside me, even in the lonely hallways where I walked. She told me He spoke to her the verse:
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.” — Jeremiah 29:11
That verse, along with Romans 8:28—"All things work together for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose"—became my anchor.
And I was never truly alone.
That year became a turning point in my life.
I spent time working at as a preschool teacher and enrolled in a three-month inpatient eating disorder program in the fall, followed by six months of outpatient care. That time of rest taught me something powerful: my worth is not defined by my career or by anyone else’s opinion but my thoughts need to support my dreams. I need my brain to be nourished to learn and to support my emotional regulation, I won't let an eating disorder choose the path of my life I need to choose recovery.
My local church in Sudbury became a safe haven. There, I met incredible women in the young adult group who loved me for who I was—not for what I achieved. Through their friendship and mentorship, I began to bloom into a rooted woman of faith. Their quiet strength and unwavering belief reminded me I was deeply cared for—and never forgotten.
Looking back at that season of my life, especially between the ages of 19 and 20, I hold so much self-compassion and empathy for myself. There was so much going on behind the scenes. My dad was awaiting a hip replacement, which could have led to an earlier medical release date from his military career so he postponed the procedure for as long as he possibly could and was living with chronic pain. My mom—my superhero—was working full-time as a teacher while supporting three children spread across province.
Oddly, that spring in 2016, I remember wanting to learn everything about pageantry and watching Miss Northern Ontario from the sidelines, something I had always dreamed of doing. I just wasn't ready to bloom yet. But God already sowed seeds for those dreams.
Then came one day in June 2016—a pivotal point and a day I’ll never forget. I was driving home after a hard shift at work. Life was beginning to feel lighter. I was starting to love the life I was building. My body was feeling stronger and nourished. But I also knew I was craving a fresh start—a new challenge and though change is scary I felt is was the best option I could take.
That night, I called my mom and said:
“I’m scared… but I think I’m ready to go to university in September. I don’t know God’s plans for me, but I know I need to trust Him wholeheartedly.”
That conversation changed everything. Saying yes wasn’t just about school—it was about choosing faith my health, growth, trusting God, and embracing a future I once thought was out of reach.
The next chapter?
What happens next became one of my life's most rewarding and beautiful seasons: University.
After the Fire:
In between college and university, I needed to find healing for my body. mind and soul.
True healing, I needed to have Faith. I needed to rebuild my relationship with my faith.
On August 8th 2016, My twin brother and I were baptized together. The asked that i was covered in were washed away and I felt new. The flames of anxiety, destructive thoughts that once burned and brought nothing but destruction in my life were extinguished. I felt as if i was given a chance to begin again I was ready to choose recovery and seek a life that would create beauty.
University 2017-2023
My University Experience: Growth, Friendship, and Finding My Purpose
University… wow. I don't even know where to begin with this chapter of my life. In the fall of 2017, I moved from Sudbury to North Bay to begin a new academic adventure in the Child and Family Studies program. While Sudbury wasn’t my hometown, it had been a familiar comfort zone—and leaving it behind was a leap of faith. I initially applied to university with the dream of becoming a teacher. However, that dream began to evolve as I found support through my mental health team and counselor. New seeds were planted, and I felt a growing pull toward social work, particularly in the areas of child and family support.
One of the most transformative moments of my first semester was learning in English for the first time at a post-secondary level. With the added support from the Student Accessibility Services and accommodations for my learning disability, I discovered a completely new way of learning. I began to thrive in my courses—falling in love with childhood development, children’s rights, psychology, and sociology. I was learning at my own pace, supported in my growth, and challenged to think critically in ways that ignited my passion.
What made this time even more special were the countless meaningful friendships I formed along the way. my first year, during orientation week, I pushed myself out of my comfort zone and made connections with peers who would become some of my greatest sources of encouragement and belonging. These were the people who studied beside me late into the night, who shared snacks and laughs between classes, and who supported me unconditionally through both triumphs and setbacks. There’s something uniquely powerful about friendships forged in the university setting—they grow alongside your personal development and reflect the shared experience of becoming who you're meant to be.
I took every opportunity to get involved. I joined clubs, volunteered in the community, and found joy in leadership. I became a proud member—and eventually Social Chairwoman—of Alpha Gamma Phi, a sorority dedicated to service and sisterhood. I helped organized a weekend women's retreats, volunteered at community events like “Celebrity Server” nights at Boston Pizza, and walked shelter dogs through the local Humane society-Fun fact this is where I adopted my little Cat Olive!
Dance also remained a steady joy. I joined the Nipissing and Canadore Dance Club and, in my final year of Child and Family Studies, became Co-President. I taught classes for dancers of all levels, organized creative showcases, and hosted fundraising events like bake sales to support the club and important causes like NOFCC. Through these experiences, I not only found my voice but realized I had the heart of a leader—someone who brings people together and creates spaces for growth and belonging.
In the Social Work program, I joined the Student Equity Center—a powerful campus resource that provided food, drinks, and an affirming space for students. On days when I needed a moment to regroup, I could walk in and be reminded that choosing recovery, rest, or self-care shouldn't come with shame or barriers. It was in those small, quiet acts of support that I truly recognized how far I had come.
One of the accomplishments I’m most proud of is earning the Advanced Certificate in Sexual Violence Prevention. A workshop that left a lasting impact on me was hosted by Amelia Rising on International Women’s Day, titled “Camaraderie, Not Competition.” It explored how patriarchal systems often pit women against each other to maintain hierarchical power structures. But the truth is, empowered women empower others.
That message completely transformed how I approached my friendships and relationships. I became more intentional in surrounding myself with people who celebrated each other’s wins rather than feeling threatened by them. It deepened my friendships, built trust, and reminded me that we’re not meant to compete—we’re meant to connect. My university years were filled with moments of collaboration, encouragement, and sisterhood. Whether we were cheering one another on during a presentation or helping each other through rough patches, I learned that relationships built on kindness and respect flourish far more than those built on rivalry. We don’t have to dim our light for others to shine—we can all bloom together.
In my final years at Nipissing, my academic focus shifted toward violence against women and intimate partner violence, leading to a meaningful practicum and summer job at a women’s shelter. I also had the opportunity to complete placements at a children’s treatment facility and a long-term care home, both of which were incredibly formative. These placements reaffirmed something I had always felt but hadn’t yet named: I have a deep and genuine heart for others.
Looking back, university wasn’t just a place I went to learn—it was where I became. I entered as a young woman still figuring out her place in the world and left as someone grounded in purpose, surrounded by community, and unafraid to lead with empathy. I’ll forever be grateful for the people, the lessons, and the growth that shaped me along the way.
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