At 19, determined not to spend my gap year stuck at home, I took off with a friend and we traveled around Europe for months. We stayed in the cheapest accommodation and lived on bread and cheese.

This was 1990, a time before mobile phones and the Internet, when the primary contact with home was mails from the post office. Before I left, Mom had made me a money bag and a sleeping sheet to avoid unclean bedding. She didn’t want me to go, and these gifts were her way of telling me to have a wonderful time.

It’s only now, as my 18-year-old daughter is preparing to leave on her own gap year trip, that I understand how Mom felt.

While working multiple jobs and saving money, my daughter has also researched where to stay, how to get around and what to do before setting off. She rarely asks for my opinion and I am unsure whether I should wade in (介入) or back off. I want to be supportive but not too involved. I want to be cool but not aloof (漠不关心的) . I want to be like the perfect travel guide.

After all, when she first mentioned gap year travel, I was encouraging, wanting her to have her own experiences that shape her. Though I’m not quite ready, this trip is about her. This is not 1990 and I am not stuck at home waiting for a letter. Therefore, I haven’t concentrated too long on the idea of her not being here. I have promised not to bother her with messages, but at least I know she can contact me when she wants to.

Growing up in Venezuela, there was never really much cause to learn English.

For years I knew nothing past “hello,” until I started high school. For five years, I spent two hours a week immersed in understanding the verb “to be”, numbers, colors, and the difference between saying “good evening” and “good night”.

I thought two hours a week was enough time to invest in learning a foreign language. I would always get top marks, and my teachers would regularly praise me.

Even as an adult, I still thought I spoke the language, just by understanding English menus or translating common phrases.

Yep, that used to be me, walking like a queen among everyday Spanish speakers.

“Bring it on, life,” I said.

“I can handle whatever you’ve got; I’m a rock star.” But when I moved to Canada, life hit me so hard that it knocked me down. Years later, I am still recovering.

Living in a new land, with different people, new rules, new weather, a new culture and language, I was no longer a queen.

Did I speak English?

No, not at all.

So, I went back to school, thinking that it was a challenge I would conquer in record time. But the reality was different. English was more like a solid wall in my path.

Even after getting a job, it took all my courage to stop myself from hiding in the washroom during my lunch break, crying, completely overwhelmed (不知所措的) and scared.

Learning English, speaking, listening – it hurt me. Not the language. Not the unkind people, it hurt because I wasn’t good, despite my efforts.

Now, after almost seven years in Canada, I’ve decided not to apologize for my accent, grammar mistakes, or pronunciation. I’m going to chase my dreams and enjoy a beautiful, rich, and fascinating language without being ashamed.

Don’t get me wrong, my brain still screams “Give me a break!” from time to time, but that’s completely natural.

I know it’s going to take a while, but at least now I accept the person I am – not the perfect person I thought I was.

My grandparents actively practiced simplicity. They both grew up in very large families and lived through the Great Depression. Saving for a rainy day and avoiding superfluous consuming was their life philosophy. Rather than seeking fulfillment through material items, they chose to spend really simple life together, with family and in nature.

Over the years my grandparents noticed dramatic changes in their community. Every year more farmland was destroyed to build larger and larger homes. As real estate prices rose, many of their neighbors sold their little homes and land. Soon theirs were the only small house on the block, surrounded by a sea of mansions. My grandparents built and lived in a small 600-square-foot cottage for most of their adult lives. Lots of family members encouraged my grandparents to expand their little old house. But they didn’t want a bigger place. They loved their little house and were content with what they had.

My grandparents avoided consumptive (浪费的) lifestyle by painting and repairing the house themselves. They lived in a small home, but had a huge garden. They loved gardening and planting because it reduced their grocery bill, improved their health, and gave them an excuse to be outside. They also reused and recycled everything. For instance, they had driven the same car for over 15 years and didn’t buy a new one until the old Chevrolet was worn out.

Through their example I learned an important lesson: It is possible to live a simple and fulfilling life. My grandparents taught me that living a simple life isn’t about self-deprivation. Instead, is about giving yourself the time, freedom, and money to pursue your dreams. Becoming debt free, downsizing to a smaller home, and going car-lite (减少用车频率) are a few ways to take control of your life and start pursuing your dreams.