thoughts that matter

BY SUZY BOURGET

If you’ve made your way here, welcome.
Sit down, get cozy, and let’s talk like old friends.

This space has been growing inside me for a long time. It’s where I can share the things I’ve learned, the things I’m still learning, and the things that make life feel heavy or beautiful, sometimes both at once.

Most of all, this blog is about connection.
About feeling seen.
About knowing you’re not alone in whatever season you’re in.

You’ll find stories here, real stories.
The kind that come from the heart, shaped by Northern Ontario skies, long drives, quiet lakes, and all the people who’ve walked in and out of my life.
You’ll find laughter, honesty, and a little bit of that “Suzy sparkle” I can’t help but sprinkle everywhere.

I don’t have all the answers.
But I do have life experiences, a lot of resilience, and a heart that refuses to stay quiet when there’s something worth saying.

So here’s to new beginnings, and to letting our stories matter.

With love,
Suzy Bourget
©Suzy Bourget

DO YOU RECOGNIZE THESE 7 BEHAVIORS? Jan. 3, 2026

For many adults, trauma isn’t something they think about often, not because it didn’t matter, but because it happened so early that it blended into normal. When experiences occur at a young age, we don’t label them as trauma. We adapt to them.

And those adaptations can quietly follow us into adulthood.

If you’ve ever wondered why you react the way you do, why certain patterns repeat, or why life can feel harder than it “should,” it may help to understand that many adult behaviors are rooted not in personality flaws, but in survival.

Here are seven behaviors commonly seen in adults who went through trauma at a young age, not as labels, but as invitations to self-understanding.

1. Hypervigilance

Always being on alert.
Reading tone, body language, and mood shifts instantly.

This often develops when a child learns that safety depends on anticipating what comes next. As adults, this can look like anxiety, difficulty relaxing, or feeling exhausted even when nothing is “wrong.”

2. Difficulty Trusting Others

Trust doesn’t come easily when it was broken early.

Adults with early trauma may keep emotional distance, test people without realizing it, or assume abandonment before it happens. This isn’t coldness, it’s protection.

3. People-Pleasing

Saying yes when you want to say no.
Putting others first at your own expense.

For many, this began as a way to keep peace or earn safety. Over time, it can lead to resentment, burnout, and losing touch with your own needs.

4. Strong Emotional Reactions

Big feelings that seem to come out of nowhere.

When emotions weren’t safe, welcomed, or regulated in childhood, the nervous system may struggle to self-soothe later in life. These reactions aren’t overreactions, they’re unresolved signals.

5. Need for Control

Control can feel like safety.

Adults who experienced chaos or unpredictability early on may feel uneasy with uncertainty. Planning, organizing, or controlling outcomes can become a way to feel grounded, until it becomes exhausting.

6. Emotional Numbness or Detachment

Not feeling much at all can also be a response.

Some people learned early that feeling was overwhelming or unsafe. Emotional shutdown isn’t absence of care, it’s a learned way to cope when feelings once felt like too much.

7. Difficulty Resting or Feeling at Peace

Stillness can feel uncomfortable.

When the body has lived in survival mode for a long time, calm can feel unfamiliar or even unsettling. Rest may bring guilt, anxiety, or restlessness instead of relief.

What Can Actually Help

Recognizing these behaviors is important — but awareness alone isn’t always enough. If these patterns are affecting your relationships, your health, or your ability to feel at ease in daily life, support can make a meaningful difference.

Here are clinically supported approaches that many adults with early trauma find helpful.

1. Trauma-Informed Therapy

Working with a therapist trained in trauma can help you understand how your nervous system learned to respond and how to gently retrain it. Modalities often used include:

Trauma-focused cognitive behavioral therapy (TF-CBT)
EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing)
Somatic or body-based therapies
Internal Family Systems (IFS)

These approaches focus not just on talking, but on helping the body feel safer over time.

2. Nervous System Regulation

Many trauma responses live in the body, not just the mind. Simple practices can help signal safety:

Slow, paced breathing
Grounding exercises (noticing what you can see, hear, feel)
Gentle movement like walking or stretching
Consistent sleep and meal routines

These aren’t “fixes,” but they help reduce chronic stress signals that keep the body on high alert.

3. Learning Emotional Skills

If emotions were overwhelming or unsupported early in life, learning skills later on can be transformative. This may include:

Identifying and naming emotions
Learning to self-soothe without self-judgment
Practicing boundaries without guilt

These are skills, not traits you were born without.

4. Medical Support When Needed

For some people, trauma-related anxiety, depression, or sleep issues may benefit from medical evaluation. A healthcare provider can help determine whether medication or other treatments might be appropriate, especially when symptoms are interfering with daily functioning.

Seeking medical support is not a failure, it’s one part of comprehensive care.

5. Safe Relationships

Healing doesn’t happen in isolation. Safe, consistent relationships, whether with a therapist, friend, or support group, help the nervous system learn that connection doesn’t have to be dangerous.

You don’t need many people. You need safe ones.

A Gentle Reminder

None of these behaviors mean you are damaged or beyond help. They mean your system adapted early, and adaptation can be updated.

If reading this brought up recognition, discomfort, or relief, that’s information, not something to push away. You are allowed to seek help, ask questions, and move at your own pace.

Support isn’t about fixing who you are.
It’s about helping you feel safer being who you already are.

With love
©️Suzy Bourget
suzybourgetauthor.ca

WHAT IF THE NEW YEAR ISN’T ABOUT BECOMING SOMEONE NEW? Dec. 27th 2025

Every January, we’re told it’s time to reinvent ourselves.
New habits. New bodies. New goals. New lives.

Apparently, by February we’re all supposed to be waking up at 5 a.m., drinking green juice, journaling, stretching, manifesting abundance, and running marathons, all while smiling.

Meanwhile, some of us are just trying to remember what day it is.

I used to believe January was a starting line, that if I didn’t burst into the new year motivated and organized, I was already behind. That growth had to be loud. Visible. Measurable. Preferably color-coded.

But the older I get, the more I realize something important:

Not every new year is about becoming someone new.

Some years are about staying.

Staying with what you’ve already learned.
Staying with the healing you’ve already worked so hard for.
Staying kind to the parts of you that are still tired, and maybe a little over everyone’s expectations.

Life doesn’t magically reset because the calendar flips. The grief you carried, the exhaustion you earned honestly, the lessons that came at a cost, they don’t vanish at midnight on December 31st. And frankly, they shouldn’t have to.

We’re allowed to enter a new year carrying what matters and leaving behind what never fit us in the first place. (Including resolutions, we’ve already broken by January 3rd. Let’s be real.)

What if growth doesn’t mean changing who you are, but honoring who you’ve become?

What if this year isn’t asking you to push harder, hustle louder, or “do more” but to listen more closely?

January sits in the middle of winter for a reason. Nature isn’t rushing. Nothing is blooming yet. Even the trees are like, absolutely not. Things are resting underground, gathering strength in quiet, unseen ways.

Maybe we’re allowed to do the same.

If you’re starting this year feeling tired instead of inspired…
If your heart wants steadiness more than ambition…
If you don’t have a word of the year, a five-year plan, or the energy to pretend you do…

You’re not failing the new year.

You’re just being honest.

Maybe this year isn’t about becoming someone new.
Maybe it’s about trusting that who you already are, messy, healing, imperfect, still learning, is enough to keep going.

And maybe beginning gently isn’t lazy or unmotivated.

Maybe it’s wise.

With love
©️Suzy Bourget
suzybourgetauthor.ca

WE ALL STAND UNDER THE SAME MOON Dec. 20, 2025

There is something humbling about this image.
Santa, a symbol we’ve wrapped in tradition, religion, commerce, nostalgia, sitting quietly before the moon. Not delivering. Not rushing. Not judging. Just being.
And the moon looms behind him, enormous and steady, reminding us of something we so easily forget:
No matter who we are.
No matter where we come from.
No matter what name we give to God, spirit, universe, or love
we all stand under the same sky.
The moon doesn’t ask who deserves its light.
It doesn’t care about borders, beliefs, politics, wealth, or status.
It shines on the grieving and the joyful.
On the faithful and the questioning.
On the lonely and the loved.
Equally.
Somewhere along the way, we turned difference into division. We started measuring worth instead of recognizing humanity. We forgot that before labels, before systems, before power, we were simply people trying to survive, to belong, to be seen.
This season, whatever you celebrate or don’t celebrate, is not meant to separate us. It’s meant to soften us.
To remind us that kindness is not a belief system.
Compassion is not a political stance.
And love is not reserved for those who think like us.
I believe this is a time to pause. To sit, like the figure in this image, and remember that none of us are above another. None of us are beneath another. We are equal not because we are the same, but because we are human.
If we could remember that, even briefly, the world would feel different.
Maybe healing doesn’t come from louder voices,
but from quieter moments of shared humanity.
From remembering that under the same moon,
we all belong.

With love ©Suzy Bourget

WHEN WINTER REMINDS US TO SLOW DOWN Dec. 13, 2025
I don’t usually stop and stare at artwork for long, but this one made me.
There’s something about it, not magical or mythical, just steady.
A quiet, older presence looking out over a winter world that isn’t rushing, scrolling, posting or panicking. Just existing.
When I look at his face, he doesn’t feel like Santa or a legend.
He feels like every wise grandfather we’ve ever known:
someone who has lived enough life to say nothing, yet hold everything.
Winter has a way of doing that too.
In a time when the world feels louder than ever,
constant updates, constant opinions, constant pressure to be on,
this picture feels like the opposite:
a reminder of stillness, of breathing, of pausing without guilt.
There was a time when winter meant slowing down because we had to.
Shorter days, earlier nights, quieter homes.
People talked to each other because the weather insisted on it.
Stories were shared, meals were stretched, and evenings were simple.
Now, even in a snowstorm, our minds keep racing.
We worry about the next message, the next bill, the next change, the next crisis.
We fill the quiet because we’ve forgotten how to sit in it.
Looking at this image, I realize how much we need what winter used to give us:
not the cold, not the darkness,
but permission.
Permission to say:
“I don’t have to do everything today.”
“I can rest.”
“I can log off.”
“I can just be.”
The old winter figure in the clouds feels like a silent witness to how different life has become.
Not judging, not lecturing, just… watching.
Maybe even waiting for us to remember the pace we once lived by.
A pace where people mattered more than productivity,
where a quiet evening wasn’t seen as wasted time,
and where warmth was measured in connection, not electricity.
Maybe that’s why I love this image.
It isn’t fantasy.
It’s a reflection, of winter, of age, of perspective, and of what we’ve lost while trying to keep up with a world that refuses to slow down.
So tonight, as snow gathers outside and the world finally settles,
I’ll think of him, steady, calm, unbothered,
and I’ll try to do the same.
With love,
© Suzy Bourget

“Bingo, Burgers, and a Boat Named Bob” Dec. 06, 2025

The sun had barely risen over the sleepy coastal town when the three beachside besties, Gloria, Mabel, and Dot, emerged from their cottage wearing matching flamingo-print robes, their hair already sky-high and sprayed into place like some sort of steel wool masterpiece. They had a mission that day. And it didn’t involve knitting, baking, or napping.

It started over morning coffee when Gloria slapped a hand on the table and declared, “Ladies, today… we hijack a boat.” Mabel nearly choked on her prune juice. “We don’t even know how to drive one!” Dot just grinned and tightened her sunhat. “Details, Mabel. That’s future-us’s problem.”

By 10 a.m., the three of them were strutting down to the marina like they owned the dock, armed with oversized sunglasses, tote bags full of snacks, and zero nautical experience. They came upon an old, slightly dented fishing boat named Bob. It looked like it had seen better decades, but it was unattended… and therefore, in their eyes, fair game.

Gloria climbed in first. “It’s got character,” she said proudly. “It’s got mildew,” Mabel mumbled. Dot climbed aboard and found a weathered captain’s hat. “Well, I guess I’m the captain now.”

With a surprising amount of luck, and help from a teenager who mistook them for an elderly YouTube prank channel, they got Bob going. They didn’t go far, just a scenic putter around the bay, where they sang oldies at the top of their lungs, grilled questionable cheeseburgers on a tiny camp stove, and waved at every passing kayak like queens on a float.

Of course, they ran out of gas two hours in. “No worries,” Dot shrugged, lying back with her sunhat over her face. “We float home.” “Or we make Bob our new retirement plan,” Gloria added. “We Airbnb him out. Luxury sea lodging with character.”

Mabel sighed. “Can we at least fish while we wait?” Dot reached into the snack bag and pulled out a loaf of bread. “This is now bait.”

Three hours later, the coast guard arrived to the sight of three grandmas sunbathing on a boat that was half-decorated with fishing lures, a “Help” flag made of a beach towel, and an inflatable flamingo they named Sir Francis Float.

As they were towed back in, Gloria whispered, “Let’s do bingo tomorrow.” Mabel grinned. “Only if it ends with us in jail.”

Dot raised her sparkling water in the air. “To chaos, ladies.” And they clinked their cans in pure, glorious, rebellious harmony.

TOO YOUNG TO CARE, TOO OLD TO PRETEND Nov. 29, 2025

So, a young man comes up to me the other day and asks, “Hey, what’s it feel like to be old?” I nearly spat out my prune juice from surprise because, frankly, I don’t think of myself as old. The kid looked mortified when he saw my reaction, but I assured him it was an intriguing question. After pondering it, I came to the brilliant conclusion that getting old is a total gift.

Sure, sometimes I catch a glimpse of the old girl staring back at me in the mirror, but hey, I don’t lose sleep over it. I’m not about to swap all the wisdom I’ve gathered for a few less silver hairs and a washboard stomach. I’m entitled to a bit of messiness, some extravagance, and a few hours admiring my garden without feeling guilty.

I’ve seen friends leave this world before they could enjoy the freedom that comes with aging. So what if I choose to stay up till 4 a.m. reading or gaming, and then snooze until who-knows-when? I’ll groove to the tunes of the ’50s and ’60s, and if I fancy shedding a tear for a lost love later on, you bet I will!

I’ll strut along the beach in a swimsuit hugging my old bod and dive into the waves without a care, despite the pitying glances from the bikini brigade. They’ll get their turn at growing old if they’re lucky.

Sure, my heart’s endured its share of pain, losing loved ones, feeling a child’s agony, or bidding farewell to a furry friend. But it’s those trials that toughen us up and help us grow. A heart that’s never been bruised is about as lively as a rock and will never savor the joy of imperfection.

I take pride in every silver strand on my head and in retaining the grin of my youth before those deep wrinkles showed up. So, to give an honest answer to the question: “I love being old because it makes me sharper and more liberated!”

Hey, I know I won’t be around forever, but while I’m here, I’m living by my own rules, the ones my heart cooks up. No regrets for what never happened, no fretting over what’s to come. For the time ahead, I’m just going to revel in life like I always have. The rest? Well, that’s in the hands of the big guy upstairs.

©️Suzy Bourget

LETTING GO OF HURTFUL PEOPLE Nov. 22 2025

There comes a moment in life when your heart whispers something you’ve been trying to ignore. A moment when the truth gets louder than the excuses, and you realize that holding on to someone who hurts you doesn’t make you loyal, it makes you tired.

Letting go isn’t about giving up.
It isn’t about being cold or unkind.
And it definitely isn’t about winning or losing.

Letting go is simply this:
Choosing yourself.

For the longest time, I believed that if I just loved harder, understood deeper, or stayed quieter, things would get better. I thought maybe if I explained myself differently, softened my edges, or forgave one more time, the hurt would magically disappear.

But hurt doesn’t vanish when you pretend it’s not there.
It lingers.
It grows roots.
It takes pieces of you.

And one day you wake up and realize you’ve been shrinking yourself to make room for someone who never deserved that much space in your life.

The truth is, some people only love the version of you they can control, dismiss, or take advantage of. They love the you who bends. The you who apologizes first. The you who doesn’t complain. The you who keeps trying.

But the real you?
The strong you?
The “I deserve better” you?
They don’t know what to do with her, so they try to break her spirit before she fully stands.

Letting go of a hurtful person is painful, even when you know it’s the right thing to do. It feels like grieving someone who’s still alive. It feels like closing a door you kept open for years. It feels like losing a battle you never wanted to fight in the first place.

But here’s the truth no one tells you:

Letting go is an act of love,
not for them, but for yourself.

It’s the moment you finally say:

“I’m done accepting the bare minimum.
I’m done shrinking my light.
I’m done pretending this doesn’t hurt.”

The day you let go is the day you start healing.

You start remembering who you were before the damage.
You start rediscovering the parts of yourself you had to mute.
You start seeing your worth without waiting for someone else to confirm it.

And slowly, bit by bit, you breathe again.

Letting go doesn’t mean you stop caring.
It doesn’t mean the memories disappear.
It means you are choosing peace over chaos, healing over history, and your future over their comfort.

You deserve the kind of love that feels like home, not a battlefield.
And if letting go is the price of peace?
Then peace is worth every tear.