The Two Long Goodbyes: One Past, One Present

“Goodbye” is rarely a clean break. Anyone who has gone through heartbreak can attest to that. It is more of a slow transition—a door that takes time, even years to fully swing shut. As I look at my life today, I realise I am defined by two “long goodbyes.” One is a decade-long journey of grief that finally concluded, and the other is a professional exit I am navigating in real-time, something, again, that I realise I have been in for several years.

Describe a phase in life that was difficult to say goodbye to.

The Past: Saying Goodbye to the “Active Mum” (2014–2024)

The most difficult phase to let go of wasn’t a place, but a person’s vitality. In 2014, my Mum suffered a brain hemorrhage, and my world shifted overnight.

For ten years, I lived in a state of “anticipatory goodbye.” I had to mourn the active, vibrant Mum I had always known while she was still right there in front of me. Accepting her decline and shifting into the role of a caregiver—witnessing the slow fading of the woman who had been my pillar—was an exhausting exercise in love and letting go. When she finally passed in 2024, it was the end of a ten-year goodbye.

I had to learn that you don’t just lose someone once; you lose versions of them until the final silence.

The Present: Saying Goodbye to the Ward

While that personal chapter has closed, I am currently in the thick of another long goodbye: leaving nursing as I know it.

After years on the front lines, I am fed up. It’s not the patients, no; it’s the systemic toxicity of woman-majority workplaces and the weight of poor management that feels heavier than any double shift. It is the constant barrage of belittling, the bad news that have nothing to do with the skills and knowledge of the nurses themselves, but the management who refuse to take any responsibility.

I have a vision for a consulting business—a way to use my expertise on my own terms—but Finland can be a difficult place for that kind of reinvention. It often feels like an impossibility here because the whole country looks backwards, and the term “this has always been done like this” is far too prevalent for anything new to survive.

Walking away from the security of the “Scrub Life” while the next destination (be it Spain or Malaysia) is still a question mark is terrifying, but I feel it is also necessary for my own sanity and health.

But, if anything, I’ve learned from my Mum’s journey that clinging to a version of life that is already gone only prevents you from living the one you have left.

The Lesson of the Road

Whether it was the decade I spent navigating my Mum’s health (2014–2024) or the months I am currently spending navigating my career change, I’ve realized that the “long goodbye” is just another word for growth. You can’t start the engine for the “Open Road” if you’re still standing on the porch of a house you’ve already outgrown.

As we look toward Spain or Malaysia and leave the toxicity of the 9-to-5 behind, we are choosing to turn our “stories” into our “lifestyle.” We are no longer just dreaming of the exit; we are driving through it.

Join the Escape

If my stories resonate with you, or if you’ve ever had to say a “long goodbye” of your own, we’d love to have you along for the ride. Supporting our transition from “The Ward” to “The World” helps us keep the “Open Road” open:

– Bring the Journey Home: Visit our Etsy shop, Poodlies. Almost every piece of wall art we sell is a moment captured from our own travels—from the quiet Finnish snow to the vibrant horizons we’ve chased. By buying a piece, you aren’t just decorating a wall; you’re fueling our next chapter.

– Fuel the Freedom: If you want to send a digital “high-five” to help us escape the mundane life and keep the stories coming at HaveStories.com, please consider Buying Me A Coffee.