the incurable dreamer

my dreams are my disease, chasing them my only option

beautifully broken

On the morning of August 28th, 2014, at 9:45 in the morning I was sitting in a window seat on flight AC7738, and in the distance, perched atop the low-lying clouds, like a flawlessly crafted piece of art, sat the Manhattan skyline.  I couldn’t help but notice how small, and insignificant it looked from so far away.  But I already knew from my time previously spent there; it was anything but that.  And it was for that very reason I was on that plane, that morning, anxiously awaiting touchdown and my first breath of New York City air.  New York City is the love of my life, and as we approached – its vastness beginning to reveal itself – I sat hopeful, that somehow on the streets far below, she would be able to fix me.  I was in desperate need of healing, and it was her I chose to help me. So, when I exited the airport shuttle in front of my hotel, I closed my eyes, inhaled the Manhattan air into my lungs and surrendered my broken self to the city…my love.

Over the course of the next four days, I weaved my way through the city streets, step by step, village to village.  Each day my feet absorbed the heat emanating from the concrete beneath me, ignored searing pain from the miles I had walked and refused to slow down.  My heart beat in rhythm with my footsteps and my blood coursed its way through my veins, powered by the pulse of the sights and sounds of Manhattan.  Without even noticing, my love and I had become one, and I was transforming.

On my last day, I arrived at the mouth of the Brooklyn Bridge and felt for some reason it was where I was meant to be – where I needed to be.  Emotion overcame me, and as I began my journey across, I silently wept.  Not from sadness but happiness experienced in its purest form. The kind of happiness that makes you see colour for the first time, that ignites your soul and makes you not only feel like you can fly but that you already are.  Half way across I paused and turned to look back at my love, and she whispered, “Keep moving. Go.”  With her behind me, pushing and encouraging me, I focussed my attention once again on moving forward.  She knew, and I knew, who was waiting for me on the other side.  And I was ready.

When I stepped off the bridge, I discovered a girl who was broken but awakened.  She introduced me to peace of mind and a belief in myself so powerful, I felt like anything was possible.  For the first time in my life, I felt as though everything was ok.  That I was ok.  What I found in Brooklyn that afternoon would change everything.  But what I didn’t know, as I stood there feeling renewed and inspired, smiling at the city across the river I loved so deeply, was that she had just saved me from the darkest days still to come.

On Sept 13th, 2014, twelve days after arriving home from New York, I spent the evening with one of my favourite people in the world.  Accompanied by a sunset so breathtaking, we couldn’t help but acknowledge how blessed we were to witness its magnificence.  We spoke about love, life, change and laughed our way into the night.  And we took the time to applaud the brilliance of the stars that shone above us.  It was a moment in time so special and so significant I knew then it would never be forgotten.  What I found out 36 hours later was that that day would also become a beacon of light and a guiding force in my life. Earlier that same day, long before we were admiring the setting sun, and miles from where I was, my 29-year-old co-worker was eagerly ascending a mountain.  I imagine he also knew what awaited him and I have no doubt as he moved his way closer to the top, he envisioned the beauty that would soon surround him.  But, what destiny had in store for him that day was not a majestic view upon reaching the summit, but his last breath 1000 feet below, after losing his grip.

I spent the days following his passing in a daze and struggled to see through the steady stream of tears clouding my vision.  The one question I asked myself over and over again was, “Why?” Then on Oct 17th, 2014 at my veterinarian’s office, with my best friend at my side, I held my precious Jack Russell in my arms, his chest comfortably pressed against mine and nodded my head indicating I was ready because I knew he too was ready.  And as his heart beat for the last time, I made sure the last words he ever heard were, “I love you.”

Darkness took hold. My sorrow and pain were so intense that at times I was incapable of speaking.  I was so broken I didn’t know where to begin, or what to fix first.  And I wasn’t sure it was even possible to piece myself back together.

But as only great loves do, mine again began whispering in my ear, reminding me of the strength I felt on the shore of the river that day and the power I possessed to change my life. She was pleading with me to fight and to remember.  And so I did.  I remembered it all.  The self-awareness I had to admit something was wrong with me.  The courage I gathered to get on that plane.  The strength I found to walk almost a hundred miles, searching for something I wasn’t sure I would find.  The determination I commanded from within to not give up.  The elation I felt with each step as I crossed that bridge and met her on the other side.  And the belief in myself I took home as a souvenir of the four most memorable days of my life.  Not only did I remember, but I felt it, all of it.

So instead of thinking about the tail-wagging unconditional love I was no longer greeted with at the door whenever I came home, I thought about the joy my little man brought to my life. And how now, more than ever, he would want me to give myself the same gift I had given him, a happy life.

And I began thinking about the pristine beauty I was witness to on that tragic day.  Despite the light that unknowingly went out that afternoon, and the darkness that unfolded, I still knew I had never seen anything more beautiful.  I witnessed nature’s perfection.  Atop the summit, he would have stood, witnessing the same – looking, breathing and taking it all in – wearing a smile for the ages.  And he would have been alive.  But instead, the beauty his eyes and soul should have been blessed with were mine to see and feel that day.  He gave me the gift of sight and taught me that I need to look around, with my eyes wide open, and see beauty where even light refuses to shine.  And to live, fearlessly.

There will always be a part of me that remains broken.  Some things aren’t meant to be fixed, and that is ok because the weight is mine to carry, and for reasons only I will know.  But no matter what, I am always determined to see what I wish he could have seen high on the mountain that day, beauty.

Over the course of the last three weeks, I have felt myself slipping and in need of something to hold onto.  Forward is the only direction I wish to go, and though I know, only my feet can take me there, every once in a while they refuse to move.  So I wrote this as a reminder of all the gifts I have been given, the vision I have been blessed with and the dreams that are within my reach.

And also to hear my love whisper in my ear, “Keep moving. Go.”

There are two types of pain in this world: pain that hurts you and pain that changes you ~ unknown.


ferris bueller said it best




  1. Di

    Tanya, beautiful soul, this is one of the most beautiful and poetic pieces of writing from the heart I’ve read. It’s truly raw, honest, sad and uplifting all at once.
    I’m so sorry to read about your losses and with the spirit you described so eloquently, you are going to come through all this heartache with a new vision and strength.
    Simply stunning. Congratulations lovely friend ?❤

    • the incurable dreamer

      Di, thanks once again for your kindness and lovely comment. Everything we go through is meant to teach us and I am so thankful for all of it. I am strong and know there is nothing I can’t overcome. It helps that I have incredible supportive people by my side and for that I am so grateful. Thank you again, Di. So much. xo

      • Di

        Hello again Tanya…
        Yes, you have certainly proven you are strong and adopting this attitude makes you an amazing spirit and leader for us all. To share how to manage life changing events such as these you described, and to be so full of grace… thank you for showing us how…

        • the incurable dreamer

          Di, you are very sweet! I am happy to share if it helps even one person out there! ❤

  2. Becci

    Beautiful, beautiful writing… your descriptions made me feel like I was there with you in New York and my heart broke for you with your losses… you are a beautiful soul my dear friend x

    • the incurable dreamer

      Thank you, Becci. Those days were survivable because of friends like you. With all my heart I love you, and am so thankful you are by my side. xo

  3. Wow Tanya. I can feel the weight and significance of these moments in your painfully honest prose. What for many would trigger an inescapable downward spiral for you has awakened an appreciation for beauty and LIFE that would be impossible to fully appreciate if you weren’t “broken” in all the right spots. From the perspective of nearly three years you’ve fashioned these losses (and hard-won moments of bliss in Brooklyn) to coalesce into a single, undeniable epiphany.
    You know you have a beautiful heart Tanya. And now, I know it too.

    • the incurable dreamer

      Gabe, I have never been the same since walking across that bridge. And every day I am reminded when I walk into the office that life is short because he is not there. I am forever changed and I am forever grateful. Life is full of magic and beauty and I want to see and feel all of it. I don’t want to miss a thing! Thank you for your beautiful compliment, it means so much! I am so glad you are here. ?

  4. I felt my chest constrict from the moment I started reading this. It especially hit home when you talked about your Jack Russell. We also have a JR that is nearing the end of his time with us. We are struggling with the difficult decision we know is coming soon. Thank you for reminding us that we are all a little broken and that’s not bad. I’m sure you don’t need a reminder that you are not alone. 🙂

    • the incurable dreamer

      Arionis, I am so sorry to hear about your Jack Russell. It breaks my heart to know you are facing saying goodbye. You will know when it is ready and I hope you take comfort in knowing that they sense themselves when the time has come to let go and say goodbye. It won’t be easy, but try and remember the love and the beautiful life you gave to your JR and how much it was appreciated. And of course revel in the moments he/she gave to you. Our time with our pets is short, but it is always so very worth it! Thanks for reading and for the lovely comment. Broken isn’t always bad, it can also be beautiful. All the best to you and your family! x

  5. On behalf of myself and anyone else lucky enough to read this post: thank you. You extract such beauty and meaning from pain and tragedy with such unpretentious and humble appreciation. I cried a little when reading about your dog. My best pal Bernadette is getting to be an old, old lady, so I try to ready myself for the inevitable. I won’t be ready, of course. But I can think back on your words and inspire myself to bestow my doting love upon a new furry friend. And I fully understand your love of NYC. It’s one of the few things I miss about living in Jersey. Whether I was in the mood for art and culture, anthropological people-watching, or just plain old shameless decadence, it’s all right there, 24/7. Again, what a beautiful post.

    • the incurable dreamer

      Paul, thank you so, so much. What a wonderful comment to read about something I wrote. I appreciate it more than you know and feel happy I was able to convey my feelings in such a way; others were able to relate. It devastates me to hear about your sweet Bernadette. Love her and hold tightly to every precious moment you have with her. One day those memories will be what carry you past the relentless pain and allow you to open your heart to a new furry friend. I miss my little man every single day. And as for NYC, it is simply the best place on earth. I found magic there, and my heart will always reside on the streets of Manhattan. And you are right; it offers anything your mind is capable of imagining, good or bad. Ha! Again, thank you!!

  6. Moon

    Um Tanya? You have just changed my life with this gift of truth from your experiences and I love you sooooo much for sharing. You are a brave and boundless woman that nothing can knock down. You let all things flow through you, affect you, change you and add to your energy, while continueing to be that light that you are. So blessed you are in my life. Thank you for being here, being a writer and sharing your life. You shine through these words. Love love love you.

    • the incurable dreamer

      Moon, thank you for reading my post and for writing these words, it means more than you can possibly imagine. You have taught me so many things, and because of you, I see so many things in a different way. So thank you, for bringing so much love and light to my life. You, my dear, are an incredible human being and I am so proud to walk through this life with you by my side. I love you endlessly and am so very grateful for you.

  7. Your writing is so beautiful! I can feel myself there with you in those moments, I can inhale and feel the Manhattan air filling me up even though I have never been! There is nothing harder than losing those you love, and using that to drive you to make a happy and fulfilling life for yourself is the best thing you can do to honor them. Never forget that you are not alone, they walk beside you in both lightness and darkness feeding your heart and encouraging you on. Thank you for sharing your story, for being so honest, and for having the courage to push on and inspire others while you do.
    Wishing you many blessings!

    • the incurable dreamer

      Thank you so much for saying all of this, I appreciate it so much! This period was the darkest and most painful of my life, but somehow I was able to turn it around and use it as fuel to finally start living as I had never before. I am so thankful for all of it. And I am so happy to share my story if it inspires others to believe that when it seems only darkness exists, they too can find their way back to the light. Thank you again for your comment and for reconfirming that never am I alone. It means a lot! Wishing you many blessings also!

  8. As I read your opening paragraphs I was reminded of my own response to the city of London as a starry eyed eighteen year old. Many hurts have come and gone since then. The only way is forward, Tanya. Many thanks for your lovely comments on mine. I wish you well with your beautiful journey. 🙂 🙂

    • the incurable dreamer

      Thank you so much for taking the time to read my blog, I really appreciate your comment and encouragement! And you are right. The only way is forward, and is the only direction I intend to go. Sometimes it will be slow, but better slow than not at all. Thanks again, Jo – I am already looking forward to your next adventure!! All the best to you! ?

  9. I felt deeply every word you wrote. You are a beautiful soul survivor and so look forward to reading more of your gifted writings. Thank you.

    • the incurable dreamer

      Thank you so much, Barbara. Your words mean a lot to me. I appreciate you taking the time to read my post and then leaving such a kind and encouraging comment. Later this evening I am going to check out your blog, and am already looking forward to it! Thanks again, and all the best to you! ?

  10. Your writing is beautiful. Your words are absolutely stunning. The description of the New York Skyline and your love of Manhattan…breathtaking. Keep the pain close and the healing even closer. You have a special kind of soul.

    • the incurable dreamer

      Wow. Thanks very much for saying that to me, Kristina. It really means a whole lot. Honestly, just thank you.

  11. This hurt my heart for you. I went through something so very similar. Everything came crashing down on me in a span of about 6 months. Divorce, the love of my life moving me to another state and then breaking it off a week later. Three boys hitting my car going 80 mph; they all died, moving back ‘home’ to be with the one thing left, my precious dog. He died a week later. The pain was/is beyond comprehensible. My ‘New York’ was Paris. Feel free to visit my blog to get a taste of it. Oddly enough, it is not as dark as you would think. You have to look for the humor at times, or it will break you…and I do believe there is always a gift, even when it is impossible to see. Your writing is beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing something that i know was so hard to write.

    • the incurable dreamer

      Hi, Brooke. I am so sorry for the delay in responding to your comment, a few days ago I had surgery, and have been pretty out to lunch ever since. Reading your comment was unexpected because it was so unbelievably kind and because you remind me of me in more ways than you know. I am so sorry for the horror your eyes have seen and the pain your heart has had to carry and feel. Your story about the accident was hard to read, and it is not possible for me to imagine what you went through that day, but I am so grateful to you for sharing it. I think the most profound lessons are learned through pain, and that we discover who we really are when we are forced to face it and overcome it. You seem to be doing just that while inspiring others to do the same, and after what you have been through, I think that is pretty damn amazing. And I love your message, that pain teaches us how to love – I wholeheartedly believe that as well. What I carried with me to NYC that day, was a heart riddled with pain, and what I left with was a profound sense of self and strength I didn’t know I had, and it saved me. I very much look forward to reading about your Paris, and what you discovered there. Thanks so much again, for reading my post and taking the time to write such a heartfelt comment! xo

      • Oh, I do hope you are recovering quickly from your surgery!
        What you wrote brought tears to my eyes, thank you so much for also taking the time to say something so very thoughtful and heartfelt. I agree, pain is the single most powerful way to find out who you really are and why, but I did honestly feel like Jobe…just so much heartbreak in such a short period. I started writing to ‘bleed it out’ (as Hemingway would say). I guess I feel compelled to share my story so I can try to reach others who are in the thick of it. I love your writing and am glad I found you!! I look forward to reading more! Big hug!

        • the incurable dreamer

          The feeling is very mutual – I love your writing and the honesty behind it. I have so much respect for people who take a risk by being vulnerable and true to themselves with the words they write. You are very authentic, and I love that. Please keep bleeding it out. The courage in doing so inspires others to take that first step out of the darkness and back into the light. You overcame seemingly insurmountable pain and heartache, and are such an inspiration to those around you. I can’t wait to read more and follow you on your journey! All the best to you, Brooke! Big hug right back!

        • the incurable dreamer

          Umm, I just realized what a colossal idiot I am!! I have been calling you Brooke, but you are Natalie. I am SO SORRY! I am going to blame it on the drugs because I don’t usually call people the wrong name. Sigh. Anyway, thank you, Natalie – for everything!

  12. Stunning, beautiful writing, Tanya. What a pleasure to read while wiping away the tears and smiling at the same time – so emotional. Life is a mystical thing, and only in glimpses do we really see the preciousness of the journey. We are sojourners only, and present, I believe, to gather up as much love and beauty as we can handle and then gather up some more. Peace. <3

    • the incurable dreamer

      Forever grateful is how I feel about the perspective I have been blessed with because as you have described so eloquently, life is short and it is imperative we extract every ounce of love and beauty possible before it is too late. And my intention every day is to do just that. Thank you SO much for your encouraging comment. This post came from the heart, and it means so much to know that it touched someone else.

  13. What a treat to stumble upon this early Sunday morning in September. Like probably anybody who has had the pleasure of reading this, I was moved to tears. Tears for you, your unfortunate co-worker, and that beautiful animal you clearly loved so much. I promise to arise from this desk after commenting and to go and hug my own furry friends, who are, as you probably understand, family to me. I also promise to keep moving, to be aware every moment of the gifts, vision, and dreams that are my own. Thank you for the poignant reminder that life is to be lived. We should all have such an awakening. 🙂

    • the incurable dreamer

      Tom, your comment means a whole lot to me, thank you so very much. This post was written to not only inspire me but others as well, so to know that it touched you the way it did, means absolutely everything to me. Those four days in NY changed my life and gave me the strength to see beauty in unimaginable tragedy. I wish there were a way I could thank Mick, my co-worker for all the gifts he has given me. Life is meant to be lived, and I will never forget that. I am so glad that this post has reminded you of the same. Thank you again for reading and for leaving such a kind and heartfelt comment.

  14. It never fails…the beautiful souls shine through the love they have for others and the depth they feel loss.

    • the incurable dreamer

      You too are a beautiful soul, I can tell. Thank you for not only reading, but leaving such kind and thoughtful comments. It means a lot.

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