The journey begins

It seems appropriate I write this post today. It’s a post long overdue. Some of you already know, some have forgotten, some don’t know at all.

On this day three years ago, I pulled my editor out of his holidays, I told him it was urgent he meet me. My stomach was full of nervous bubbles, it was a day I had been counting down for 10 months prior. It was a day I never believed I would ever have a count down for.

Time did not make it easy.

Three years ago I told my editor I was leaving the world of journalism, the world of my childhood dreams.

Journalist me: so many adventures!

Today, I am four weeks from starting on a path I have been building up to for the last six years. On May 17 I was officially accepted into the dietetics program at the University of British Columbia.


The year leading up to this day there was a lot of nervous tension. This is a highly competitive program: over 100 applicants; 50 of who get interviews; and 30-34 accepted. I spent years working towards acceptance. I interviewed several dietitians, I volunteered in areas I knew would boost my profile, I spent months looking over my application, working on my interviewing skills, anticipating the questions that may be asked. I spent countless evenings studying, perfecting my knowledge, ensuring my grades were above par. (It didn’t always work to my favour: math and chemistry were like bones constantly jabbing my confidence.) I lost friends in the process.

All for the goal.

170807studying me
Studying me: pretty much anything in the loft was fair game for my studies: whiteboards, walls, spare paper, even my arms!

People kept telling me I was in. They’d be stupid not to take me, they said. My history, my vision of working with Type-1, athletic diabetics, it was solid. But I’d met other candidates and they, too, had solid stories. Deep down, I believed in myself. But on the surface, the what ifs had clouded that belief.

I remember walking out of the interview, which by the way was crazy intense, with a smile on my face. Big Ring was waiting outside and as soon as he saw my face, he knew I had nailed it. And I thought so too. But the thing is, five minutes into the car ride home, that evil little devil on my shoulder started steering my memory into a negative direction. I started thinking about things I didn’t say, or the fact that I was so sure they would ask right off the hop why I wanted to be a dietitian, and that’s how I started to answer, only to realize 30 seconds into answering that oh freaking hell, that’s not what they asked at all.

The application was in. The interview complete. The only thing left to do was reflect.


It took about a week and a half for the worrying pit in my stomach to release.

Thanks to a great friend.

We had been chatting about the interview, and I told him the odds just as I did for all of you above. He broke it down into the most simple terms:

“So, do you really think, honestly, that you could be one of the 16 NOT selected?” he asked.

Hmm. No, no I didn’t.

A huge smile washed over me. Another week and a half and I had my acceptance.

Dear readers, I AM going to be a dietitian!!!!!

And surely that warrants an ice cream celebration!


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