How Do You Rebuild a Life?

When Life Gives You Lemons...

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“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.”
— Lao Tzu

What began as a vibrant retirement with her husband in Mexico became something far more difficult. Harriet found herself a full-time caregiver.

Most stories about reinvention begin with a plan, whether it’s a new job, a new country, or a personal goal you've chosen. But some reinventions arrive unannounced. That’s what happened to Harriet and Paul. One day, they were building a vibrant life of art and purpose. The next day, everything unraveled.

They hadn’t retired to slow down; they came to Ajijic for warmth, not just in climate, but in community, rhythm, and purpose. After decades in Canada, Harriet and Paul wanted a slower pace and a richer experience in their third act.

Paul played tennis frequently and embraced photography with the joyful zest of someone finally free to indulge a lifelong interest. His work, featuring pelicans, butterflies, and portraits of indigenous children, landed on gallery walls and magazine covers.

Harriet, ever curious and community-minded, joined writing groups, organized conferences, and created bilingual children’s books illustrated by local children. She volunteered at LCS and managed a video project to document Lakeside culture and history. Their days were full. Their marriage was strong.

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Then, in 2021, because of complications from COVID, Paul developed Guillain-Barré Syndrome. This is a condition that sometimes results in death. Some recover completely. Because Paul was so fit, Harriet chose to believe he would recover. Within days, his body stopped cooperating. Two strokes followed, and everything shifted. Then the fear and uncertainty set in.

Harriet, who had once worked in spinal cord rehab and had vowed never to return to it, was suddenly hoisting, feeding, advocating, and improvising. She arranged the stair lift, chased down specialists, and lived in the pause between breakdown and breakthrough.

As she put it, “I morphed from supportive spouse to bossy taskmaster.” She ran their household like a triage unit. Their marriage bent under the weight of uncertainty. There were more logistics than leisure, more frustration than flow. But Harriet kept going, because she says, “Falling apart was not an option.”

Caregiving, Harriet learned, isn’t a single act; it’s a dance between practicality and exhaustion, hope and resignation. Friends rallied. Therapists helped. She made space for herself in the early mornings, writing sunrise pages with a cat in her lap, walking the malecón, and reminding herself that beauty still exists, even when everything feels fragile.

Paul had to relearn basic skills and rely on Harriet for everything. It was humbling. Quiet. And, at times, maddening for them both. But Harriet never stopped advocating for his care and their bond. She knew they had to adapt or risk getting lost in the illness.

Their marriage changed. Their energy shifted. But Harriet never stopped choosing small acts of creativity, generosity, humor, and connection. To take care of herself, she continued to enjoy book clubs, writing circles, and the occasional sight of vermilion flycatchers along the malecón.

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Recovery happened slowly. And remarkably.

Paul now showers, shaves, and dresses himself. He drives to appointments. He swims 40 laps several times per week.

Harriet took her granddaughters on an Alaskan cruise, leaving Paul home under the care of friends. Later, they traveled together to England, carefully planning their trip around his limitations, with spontaneous joys folded in.

Harriet says aging and recovery are a series of adaptations. If you can’t hike, you ride. If the terminal’s too long, request a wheelchair. If you’ve never liked cruises but they’re the best way to explore Alaska with twin ten-year-old granddaughters and a teenager, you pivot. Creativity becomes survival. Humor becomes medicine.

Their reinvention didn’t happen overnight. It was a slow, gradual rebuild. Harriet returned to writing. Paul kept shooting photos. Their lives narrowed, then widened again in different ways.

Reinvention, as Harriet lives it, isn’t always about choice. Sometimes it arrives as a crisis. But it still demands creativity and rewards perseverance and resilience. It reshapes marriages, self-images, and plans.

From retirement joy to unexpected caregiving, Harriet’s story reminds us that even when life hands you lemons or a chapter you didn’t sign up for, you still get to choose how it’s written.

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                               Have a Great Day!

                                 Blue

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Just for fun, visit my Notes!
👉 reinventyourlife.substack.com —then click the “Notes” tab at the top.

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