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You’re not oversharing: why it’s time to normalize telling your colleagues and friends with no children about your kids.

Every time someone asks me, “How is Tim doing?” I immediately come up with a dozen stories about him but never feel comfortable enough to share any of them. Why? Because I don’t want to see people getting bored, especially those who don’t have kids or don’t tend to talk about them during work hours.

A couple of weeks ago, I realized that 80% of my colleagues know that I have a toddler only because every now and then I drop a message in our chat saying, “Tim’s sick today; I’ll be responding slower than usual.” That was the moment when it crossed my mind that although two of my colleagues also have kids under the age of three, I never hear about them until I ask more than one regular question or they get sick and have to take part in zoom meetings. Everybody knows that catching colds is normal, but I’m sure that if I didn’t have a toddler myself, my brain would learn that having kids equals a never-ending vicious circle of illnesses, ruined routines, and pushed deadlines.

Edmonton, March 2022

Growing up, I heard adults around me saying that children always have runny noses, sore throats, and coughs. That once the world of daycares accepts a child, it grants them with a special mark of colds and fevers. And again, scientifically, it’s correct: we need those triggers to teach our immune system how to fight the disease. But from the emotional perspective, kids are often considered an inconvenience. For a mom who has gone through an oxytocin rollercoaster to establish an unbreakable bond with a tiny snoring alien-looking human being, it sounds wrong to have the words “child” and “inconvenience” in one sentence, but… it’s a fact, right? The problem here is that only parents know the true portion of troubles in having little ones, and it’s unique for each family. Here’s a breakdown based on what I see and experience: 10% inconvenience and 99% love, laughs, hugs, kisses, and fun. You can thank me for this quick introduction to Mom’s Math later. But do people outside your family need to know about your parenting challenges and which skills your baby learned last week?

In today’s brave new world of hybrid and remote work modes, it’s a challenge to catch the balance between your professional and personal lives. Working at the office, I had a chance to start a small talk several times a day, and that’s precisely how I learned fascinating things about people I work with, the little stories that make up who they are outside titles and responsibilities. Being a mother is a massive part of my personality, and I feel that it’s essential to share it with colleagues if the final goal is to build strong relationships, not just wrap up a project. The question is how to do that when all small-talk opportunities are minimized. 

Exploring Canmore, Fall, 2021

With friends, it’s a bit different. You meet them at a certain stage of life when you share interests, time, and problems. Then, when each of you moves to the next stage, be that a career move, a literal move to a new place, or starting a family, you have to put more effort into maintaining the connection. And I honestly don’t understand why it makes sense to ask your friend about their new workplace and job role even if you know nothing about the company or the industry, but they can say something like, “I don’t know what to ask about your kid, I don’t have one.” You end up sharing what’s most important to you only with people living in the same context, and that’s not always the best scenario. 

Now I’m working hard at looking deeper into this feeling of discomfort that tickles my stomach every time I start telling a funny story about Tim:

  • How he and his daycare friends decided that licking each other’s faces in the middle of the global pandemic is fun.
  • How he fell into a puddle and was shocked that he got wet.
  • How diplomatic he looks when negotiating the bedtime routine. 

One method I’ve been trying out is being more open and asking friends a simple question, “Do you wanna hear something fun about Tim?” Then, if they’re interested and support the conversation by laughing or sharing their own childhood memories, I might dive into whatever I find challenging or demanding in my role as a parent. And no, such conversations don’t last for hours, but they can improve your mental health and find new friends. Wanna share something with me? I’m all ears. And eyes. 

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Some Thoughts on Why a Compelling Story is Important for Any Business

This Christmas break was supposed to be full of winter activities, but it’s -30C here. So, I ended up trying to spend some time navigating a maze of brands in a huge department store, which made me think about one peculiar thing: I keep falling for one simple trick.

I was wandering from one brand corner to another and realized that only the pieces hung properly and in order caught my eye. Although digging up a deal nugget used to be my favourite part of shopping, I had to make an effort to pay attention to anything on sale racks. Why? You know the answer because you’ve seen those racks a hundred times: a total mess of pants/tops/dresses in all possible sizes and colours. Even when I found a great deal, I couldn’t help but think that something was wrong with the item. Why is it hanging so lonely here? Have dozens of other girls tried it on but didn’t like how it fits them? Is it just a brainchild of exhausted designer fantasy? What’s curious is the reason I started asking these questions.

Picture any store and compare their “New Arrivals” section to the “Sale.” Turtlenecks organized by colours and sizes, living their best life in front of the store, have extra value for a regular shopper (me). However, the materials, the quality, and even the colours can be the same as what you can dig up in the Sale section. Digging is the problem. Having to search in a cramped and dusty space in the back of a store where the lighting is the worst is the problem.

Remember those billboards with royal green or deep blue velvet background and a single watch shining like Rhianna’s inspiration? The purpose of those billboards was not only to sell the watch but to make you feel the luxury that could become yours. And it did the trick, right? It’s as easy as the order of clothes in stores. The value can be added in a million ways, but you have to find the right one. That’s what marketers do every day. I do too.

As a part of the audience, or as a consumer who tries to track what triggers me to buy this shampoo instead of another one, I feel that today it’s not enough to promise luxury only. We need more than the promise. We need things that are familiar, authentic, relatable, unique. That empower, become a part of our life, and tell a story.

A good story is what any product, service, corporation and charity need. If the goal, mission, vision, product descriptions, and other parts of your business tale are like passages from different novels and genres, no matter what great things you do, they fall under the “sale” category in our, users and consumers, minds. If you use words to construct your company’s digital presence in a way that forces people to dig meanings up, welcome to the “sale.” Tell your brand’s story in a way that will make people think, “That’s the clever trick I’m proud to fall for.” Being honest and consistent is more than enough to start with.

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A Reminder to Pat Yourself on the Back

They say it’s essential to take time to give yourself a pat on the back for every goal achieved, every big task completed, and every dream you make come true. Keeping in mind a list of things you’ve done well and what you’re grateful for supports mental health and helps avoid burnouts. But when you grow, outperform, or achieve, you become a part of a narrower circle of people who have done the same. This fact slaps you on the face, devalues and resets your system of ‘good-job’s and ‘well-done’s, and makes old efforts seem worthless. I’m typing these thoughts out to zoom in and examine my own milestones. If anything like that has ever happened to you, please share, I’d appreciate it.

At high school, out of 30 students, only two had outstanding English results, my best friend and me. Back then, we were teens, the feeling of superiority was new to us, and I have to admit it felt fantastic. Maybe that was one of the main reasons I decided to keep learning English and entered the “English Language and Literature” program at university. Turned out all the girls who had the same ‘superior’ position at their schools had also chosen that program, and I wasn’t different or special because of my knowledge and skills anymore. It took me some time and a lot of effort to prove that I could do more, study better, outperform, achieve.

Fast-forward to six years later. After several months of preparing all the paperwork and anxiously checking my account every day for five months straight, I received a dream-came-true email: our application was approved, and the last step was sending passports for Canadian visas. From that moment, we were absolutely sure that we were immigrating and starting a new life from scratch. Needless to say, our friends and family got excited and surprised after we shared the news. All the possible adjectives and emotions were in the air: you’re crazy; that’s incredible; how did you do that; no way; I would never dare. But then, after we moved to Canada and started meeting Russian-speaking people, there was nothing special about us anymore. They had all done the same thing, got the same paperwork, and in many cases had to go through a much more complicated process to come to Canada. Mission complete – start another one.

The last event that had that explosive and then numbing effect was me landing a dream job I thought I’d never get. It’s still a mystery why my boss decided to take a chance on me, but although I felt special and chosen – yes, like in Disney movies – in the beginning, this feeling is long gone. I just made another step on this ladder of narrowing features and talents: from the girl who knew English at school to the student who had to prove that she deserves to be appreciated; from an alien-immigrant among my friends to a norm in a country of immigrants; from an unexperienced enthusiast to one of many content writers and marketers.

Going from one circle of somehow special people to another is a closed loop. Apparently, I got addicted to being unique, praised, and appreciated. Is it because my grandma would always compare me to other kids and say that I was smarter, better, prettier? Is it just a part of my personality? Is it what “rat race” means for me? I don’t know the answers, and to be honest, I’m tired of trying to find out what made me feel like this and whether I should change it or not. Looking back at a 20-year-old me, I can see differences, and I keep flowing, evolving from one state into another. Maybe in ten years, I will stop searching for a narrower group of people where I can belong because I’m special. But now I’m figuring out which circle I want to enter next: another round of from-scratch zero-experience jobs? Diving deeper into what I’ve learned over the past year? Narrowing down what I love doing and focusing on it? Let’s see.

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How I Took a Leap and Started a Fight with My Impostor Syndrome

I’ve always had two passions: writing and sharing knowledge. The first symptom of writing inflammation was creating captions: as a big fan of “The Charmed,” I had a special notebook where I would put stickers and added a line or two, or even a short dialogue. When I was about ten, I tried writing stories, but they seemed to be clumsy simulations and never engaging realities. Plunging into a brave new world, even if a fantasy one, was what I loved about reading, and I was trying hard to recreate that feeling. But again, everything seemed to simulate and copy what I had in my mind, like in those pixel-graphic video games of the early 2000s: names, setting, plot, dialogues had nothing in common with what I wanted them to be.

But I loved writing, the process of it. One of my favourite childhood books, with a green cover and golden title, got me so hooked that I took a crispy-new notebook and started copying it word by word. I got so excited about finally finding a way to touch the world of stories, but Mom told me, “Rewriting a book doesn’t make sense,” and I gave up the idea.

Since I enjoyed writing, I ended up starting a lengthy story. Once, someone spilled tea over my precious notebook, and I was bawling my eyes out, but Mom’s words changed everything again: “Wow! It now looks like an ancient manuscript. This notebook has some history, hey?” That’s the only thing I remember about that notebook: no characters or plot twists, just yellow-brownish wavy pages.

If at this point you’re thinking that this blog is about Mom affecting my emotions, choices, and experience, you’re right, but everything starts with a mom, no?

So, I made several attempts at stories. When I was nine, I cut my teeth on poems. I went to a summer camp and brought back several short poems about space, nature, probably love, and all my family was so impressed that I fell in love with reciting or reading them aloud. Now, 15 years later, I don’t remember any of those poems, but I feel the touch and smell of a big blue notebook that I had found among my grandmother’s treasures and trusted with my poems. On my 12th birthday, I got one of the most memorable presents – a publication in a local newspaper.

I’ve always felt that there were too many words inside of me; I had the urge to write myself out. When I was about 17, I decided to go for a long hike to Altai, and had to spend three days on a train, so I took a notebook – yeah, I still remember the touch of pages and how it looked. It happened after a break in writing, so my first pages were like rusty water coming out of a long-forgotten tap. Several poems after, I felt like a crispy cold spring of mountain water and managed to end up with something meaningful and beautiful.

The other passion, sharing knowledge, also showed its first signs at school. I used to be that kid who always had organized notes, and before exams, classmates and later groupmates at university used to ask me questions, and I explained everything in a way that they understood and remembered. Of course, I also used this trick to refresh the material or even learn it myself, but I did it through sharing and explanation. That’s why it’s of no surprise that I started teaching English when I was in my 2nd year at university. I picked up the methodology pretty quickly because it was reasonable; I loved the structure, the flow of ideas, and interaction with people was also something I enjoyed. One of my first students was a gorgeous doctor in her late thirties, an amazing woman who was struggling with English. I was supposed to substitute her previous teacher, who left for maternity leave; that’s why the expectation bar was high. Four years fast-forward, and I have experience teaching business English to groups of corporate students, general English to IT guys, managers, and teenagers, and preparing people for IELTS.

When we moved to Canada, I had two diplomas, one long work experience in my resume, and one year of maternity leave (which was driving me crazy, to be honest.) Did I have any idea about what I’d do in Canada to earn money? No. Did I think it would be connected to English? Well, of course, it’s an English-speaking country, no choice. The only area I had expertise in was natural to thousands of people around me. I realized that in the country of native speakers, the teaching competition would be too high, so I decided to sprinkle some certificates over my CV and took a long course from the University of Arizona in TESL. Have I used it ever since? No. I became a member of the local organization of English teachers and started gathering all the paperwork necessary to prove that I had the experience and could teach English in Canada, but in the end, it was not possible without local education. Was I frustrated and overwhelmed? Well, sure. The only career ladder step I had in my head just vanished, and I was working as a screener at a senior facility (pandemic-lockdowns era if you’re reading this in 2050) at that moment, so I didn’t know what to do.

Wait a minute. I had another passion – writing. Can I turn that one into a career? What a coincidence – my favourite blogger launched a course on writing for Instagram, and of course, I jumped on this opportunity (hello, Mom, thank you for paying for this course as a birthday present). By the way, I finished that course as a top-3 student, so I basically got my money back as a prize. Anyway, I started writing for my personal blog in Russian, and the moment when people who I didn’t know started communicating in the comments was so thrilling and exciting that my heart skipped a bit.

An important note here: I hated writing in English. I mean, in IELTS, Writing was my lowest score because I just couldn’t get what they wanted from me. But, at the same time, I remember that for one of my university assignments, I wrote a poem in English about the 13th zodiac sign (yes, we had creative assignments).

I was sure that finding a job connected with writing in English was impossible. But I applied for the position of Creative Content Writer, having no experience. And they took a chance on me.

If someone had told me a year ago that I’d professionally write in English, I’d have burst out laughing. But here I am, sitting in my home office, writing content for our clients, fighting the idea in my head that if you’re not a native speaker, you’ll never be good enough. So far, I’m winning.

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I’m your immigrant friend. Now what?

First of all, and it’s essential – we’re all different. Do you have a “miscellaneous” folder where you keep the stuff you cannot come up with a category for in three seconds? If we could place people in folders, we’d have “immigrants” in there. The main differences cover the countries we left, the reasons we did it, and why we chose Canada. So what you’re going to read is ultimately true only about me and my experience.

Vermilion Lakes

What I Miss

I spent all my life–childhood, teenage years, stepping into adulthood–in Russia. Of course, I miss certain people and places. For example, if I ever come to show you our wedding photos, you’ll see a pink cloud of flowers in the background. Every end of April a big old apple tree turns a tiny park in the city center into a miracle. There even was a battle between the local authorities and citizens, when the former ones decided to build a parking lot there. Coming back to the wedding day–I had been praying for it to be in full bloom on our special day. When we only started dating, we used to walk in that area pretty often, and the tree became special for us. Such things are numerous, and I’m ready to share them, although I can start crying.

Missing people is a different story. Back home, we had to make close to zero efforts to stay in the know about our friends’ lives. Now, being an ocean away and ten hours behind, it’s hard. No chance to call and say, “how about a coffee tonight?” or “let’s go shopping together this weekend.” I have to write lifeless messages that will be read in several hours because the recipient is sleeping. I have to look in the eyes of emojis, and I can’t hug my loved ones—painful period.

Bow Falls

First-time Events

When we were getting ready for immigration, we were searching a lot. We read and watched tons of forums and YouTube blogs to learn as many things about everyday Canadian life as possible. However, some things I couldn’t expect no matter how prepared I thought I was.

The first time I received a government letter in a kraft envelope, my heart skipped a bit. For about eight months I was anxious that something might go wrong, and we would be deprived of Permanent Resident Status. And then, it happened – I felt nothing seeing a brown envelope in our post box. I got used to being welcomed here, and my anxiety left.

Bad Accent Days

Yes, I had to take an exam to prove that I know English. Yes, I got excellent results I hadn’t expected. No, I don’t feel one hundred percent confident about my language level. I have no idea if it’s some personal issue or it’s a common thing, but I was overwhelmed the first couple of months because of… having to talk on the phone in English. 

In Russia, I had the expertise my students were looking for – my theoretical knowledge and my ability to prepare them for exams. Here, all this expertise has vanished because so many people know English better than I do. 

I even have bad accent days. Exactly like bad hair days – when whatever you do doesn’t work, and you can only accept the situation. I open my mouth and hear weird sounds that I have no intention to make, and what drives me mad is that I can’t fix it. The next day I wake up – it’s okay, I sound all right.

You, Friend

For me, you’re still a person from another world. You didn’t spend 11 years at school to apply to uni with no gap years to think about life-changing choices. You didn’t see your sister making her first steps and then celebrating her 18th birthday with the same President ruling the country.

I feel that you’re different, and your support is priceless. Sometimes I’m not sure if what I can give in return is acceptable for you. I don’t know if you want to talk for hours and hours about deep-hidden things and get emotional together. I don’t want to seem rude – that’s why you’ll often find me silently observing. But I want to see, try, discover, and grow together. Do you?

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Fall-flavored Life: Why I’m Not Sure That Spring is the Best Time for Fresh Starts

flock of birds

Fall is all about pumpkin spice, photoshoots in parks, Thanksgiving, Halloween, and changing tires. This is how marketers see it. It works for me as well but only on the top levels. Deeper inside I feel that each Fall is a new beginning.

“Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.”

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Twenty years ago on the 1st of September, I went to school. What I remember about that day is being excited and uncomfortable. I was wearing a new dress with a tight itchy collar and carrying a super heavy bouquet that made my arms sore.

Eleven years later I was walking down the city center streets on my first day of University. I was excited again, but thank God I had no flowers. My life changed: new people, new routines, and most importantly – new notebooks. I am a proud notebook window shopaholic: my heart skips a beat every time I see the Notebooks and Planners department.

Four more years and I met my husband. It was a November night out. I remember breathing in crisp air thinking that I’m gonna focus on studies, I don’t need a boyfriend right now – my heart’s been broken, that’s why. And then I see him sitting with friends at the next table. They invited us to play a board game and several hours later only two people noticed that there was no one around and it was 4 am. And so the story began.

Also in the Fall, we had a baby. That September morning I woke up and thought “A nice day to be born”. Twelve hours later I was trembling, crying my soul out, and holding a tiny creature making his first breaths.

A year ago we packed our life in three bags and moved to Canada. September 22nd is the day when we heard “Welcome to Canada” from an immigration officer. We enjoyed Toronto as tourists and explored Edmonton as newcomers settling down.

This Fall I’m stepping into a new life again – a new career. On the 18th of September, I applied for a job the description of which made my heart beat faster. Creating content in English is my dream right now. I didn’t have the required experience, but they offered me to do the assignments, and apparently, it was a success. September 24th – the day we landed in Edmonton – was the day of the team interview. Introducing myself to a group of people over Zoom was challenging but they were so welcoming and friendly that I felt at ease. The next day I got a call. They offered me the job. I called my husband but a wave of crying and sobbing made it hard to understand what I was saying.

I am delighted to study again. Diving into content marketing makes me look at promotion emails from a different perspective. Can’t wait to start merging theory with practice!

This Fall no itchy collars, no immigration. Just the fifth anniversary of that November night, a great leap of faith, and some new notebooks.

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Do We Make Game-Changing Choices or Choices Make Us?

architecture black and white challenge chance

The best things that ever happened to me in life were happy accidents. When I was 14 I realized I didn’t have any hobbies, so I took up English because I had a kind teacher at school. Later I decided I don’t want to follow my parents’ steps and study law, or go for management because everyone else did. This is how my hobby grew into the university program I chose – English and Literature. During my third year of studies, I stumbled into teaching and fell in love with it. Meeting wonderful people, learning their stories, sharing what I knew about English, and helping make their dreams come true – sounds like a dream job, doesn’t it?

But I don’t feel I earned it. Of course, I worked hard developing lesson plans and reflecting on what works and what doesn’t, but I somehow didn’t feel that I made those choices deliberately.

There was a voice inside my head, and it’s still there, asking me “Are you sure you’ve found the career that matches your skills and ambitions best?” I don’t have the answer.

I am ready to try out as many opportunities as possible. It’s a real challenge since no one wants to hire a person with zero experience and let them learn everything on the fly. In Canada, I managed to get some experience in a retail chain store and ticked sales off my opportunities list. Sales make sense to me when my job is to explain why my product is different and how it will solve the client’s problem. I don’t want to push anyone into buying what they don’t need. I don’t believe that this is the way to build a long-lasting deep relationship.

I know that I need to sell myself as a professional. That’s exactly what I tried to do yesterday during an interview. The guy said “I am impressed with how prepared you are”, sounds promising, yet I’m not sure if that is a good sign.

Today I’m having another interview. The position is different; the salary must be a bit better, while the level of stress is much higher. This job is a revolving door, so yes, there is the communication component I’m looking for, but it’s just scratching the surface. I also spent some time doing my research, trying to dive into the industry, and I didn’t find a solid structure inside of it, nothing insightful or meaningful.

Don’t count your job offers before they hatch! Nothing has been offered to me yet, and I’m comparing the options like I have so many on my plate.

I do gravitate towards content creation, so last week I started two online courses: the first is “The Strategy of Content Marketing” and the second is about writing and editing. I can’t wait to absorb all the information I now have access to and put it to practice!

Maybe one day I’ll find a job which will let me create content in English. And this will be a different story.

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Loneliness on the Net: How LinkedIn Made Me Feel Isolated and Left Out

apple applications apps cell phone

Before moving to Canada I was afraid I would feel lonely. I have already gone through all those stages when you make life-long friends: school, university, first job. I’ve grown apart from many of them, but I still believe this is the time to network.

It’s not that I was scared to lose the friends I already had. My best friend lives in another city, so I know what a long-distance relationship is. I just was not sure how to build new connections when you finished all studies, have your own family, and don’t hang out because you are ready to zonk out at 22.30.

I calmed down when I started meeting people in Canada who are open-hearted and supportive. Surprisingly the online space was giving me trouble. Here is why.

LinkedIn is blocked in Russia, don’t ask me why. Of course, some professionals and companies still use it, connecting to the web with VPN and special browsers, but being an English instructor I had no need to have a profile there. I knew that it’s crucial for the American labor market, so when we got an invitation to apply for visas I downloaded that “special” browser. It took me sooo long to start a profile because of the low-speed connection. Anyway, I won. Now what? I didn’t know what to do next. I just waited until we moved and settled to figure out how it works.

Here we are, “Welcome to Canada!”. I started my job search, and the best tool for that is LinkedIn, right? But the majority of people I wanted to connect with were hidden from me because I didn’t have enough connections. I now have only 29, and I noticed that people don’t connect as fast as on other social media. They are not eager to accept someone they don’t know, but I can’t meet them in person, I don’t work with them and we don’t have mutual connections. You see, this is a vicious circle.

The online space where you are supposed to feel free and be able to reach out to anyone made me an outsider. I didn’t belong there. I still don’t, but I care less.

Have you ever felt left out because of the social media?

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Discover 5 Amazing Things Canadians Take For Granted

It’s human nature to compare. As an immigrant, I compare every day. After spending almost a year here, I noticed that there are five awe-inspiring things that you wouldn’t pay attention to if Canada is your home country. Let me know if I’m right!

1. Sky and Personal Space

My home city is twice as small as Edmonton, but 200.000 more people live there. To make a picture clearer: about 25% of Edmontonians live in apartments. In my home city, this proportion is close to 90%.

When we just moved here the air, the distances, and the space seemed astonishing. Now I’m more used to this insane feeling of freedom. Yet, every time I look at the sky hugging everything around me, I’m on the verge of crying. This freedom affects people: they respect your private space — a priceless thing for me. In my home town, I felt insecure because of all the stares and glares. I thought there was something wrong with my hair or my outfit was inappropriate, or the lack of makeup. Here I am comfortable no matter what I’m wearing or doing.

2. Sun and Green

Moving from the south of Russia I didn’t expect Edmonton to have so much sun. I was more afraid of wintertime and even bought a wool vest (which I never wore). The amount of sun you get here is unbelievable. A day when it’s -30 and the sun is shining is a blessing since the winters I’m used to were all gloomy, wet, and dirty.

We did our research before choosing Edmonton. When I saw “Edmonton has more than 800 parks” I couldn’t believe my eyes. Now I know that sometimes a couple of trees and a bench can already be called a park. At the same time, those huge parks scattered all over the city make me forget that I live in a capital city. I’ve never seen so much wildlife in my entire life: squirrels, hares, owls, ducks, and geese. A different life right next to you — a fantastic feeling.

3. Support for Parents

Last weekend I was looking for a new place to visit with my little one. I saw cool theme playgrounds: life under the sea, dinosaurs, bear lodge, space, etc. Every time I see a playground here I ask myself “Is it free?”. Of course, I know that we pay taxes to have that infrastructure. But in Russia I paid taxes as well and had nothing of the kind.

No one gives you the stink eye if your baby is crawling around the store or playing with dishwashing sponges. As a parent, I am more confident here.

4. Customer Service

It was a striking experience. We were checking in for our flight from Toronto to Edmonton. It turned out that we had booked extra baggage space which we didn’t need. It was around 50 bucks. When the lady at the desk told me that I could only reply “well, it’s our bad, no worries”. She spent the next 10 minutes trying to hack the system and return our money. I was shocked: she went the extra mile without being asked.

Our first steps to starting a new life were to rent an apartment and to buy a vehicle. We were sure that public transport would be enough for the first days (that was a big mistake by the way). So we went to several dealerships using LRT, buses, and on foot. When we were at the last dealership the agent found out we had no car and were traveling around the city on foot with a stroller. Instead of saying “That must be hard” she offered us a drive home. I mean, it was the first time she saw us, we didn’t buy anything with her and it was the end of her workday. But she was eager to help. This is the customer service I never got in Russia.

5. People

So we moved at the end of September, and Christmas was already in the air. I was sure it would be an ordinary day for us since we had no friends or relatives here. What happened is more like a fairy tale: a colleague at my first job invited us to celebrate Christmas with her family. Needless to say, it was so heartwarming I was crying before we left home.

Everyone said “Welcome to Canada!” after hearing that we moved a couple of months ago. They asked polite questions respecting our boundaries and offered help. It is a pleasure to share our story, for sure.

We got so much support that I haven’t been homesick at all.

If you are a Canadian, do you appreciate or notice these things? If you are an immigrant, do you agree?

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Why one letter matters, or am I just being bizarre?

“My name is Katrina”

This is what I say when I talk to people with hearing issues and those in a hurry. Actually, I am Katerina, and I do love the way it sounds in my mother tongue, with a royal sharp “r”.

Names are labels. You know, if a Peter broke your heart, you’ll try to avoid all the Peters you ever meet. The same is true for numbers. We normally use them to represent us as professionals, so my professional numbers are:

  • 6 years of university studies
  • 3 years of experience teaching English
  • 2 IELTS exams with 9.0 for Speaking

My personal meaningful numbers are different:

  • 1 sister who I love so much I let her borrow my clothes
  • 8521 km between me and my friends and family
  • 1 kid who breaks my heart every day and heals my soul when falls asleep next to me every night

And one blog which I’m starting to develop as a writer. Dream big, right? Start with small steps. Let’s see where this road goes.

Are your meaningful numbers different from the professional ones?