A live online keynote experience
Here’s how I intend to continue sharing my passion for safety with you in safe, new and innovative way!
Today is Bell Canada’s “Let’s Talk” Day. So, let’s talk.
I want to talk to you about the injuries we can’t see with the naked eye. I can easily remove my limb to offer you proof that I have suffered pain, and (thankfully) proof I have survived. But all injuries and sources of struggle and suffering are not as easy to identify.
Consider the millions of people who are living their lives with invisible injuries.
Consider that perhaps these invisible injuries don’t have to be so difficult to spot – if only we could make the time to look a little bit closer.
Mental health is equally as important as our physical health – yet oftentimes the PPE required to protect our mental well being isn’t as easily accessible as it needs to be.
So today, I encourage you to “be the PPE”! Offer your personal protection to someone else!
If you are wondering if there are people around you who need your help, or if the help you have to offer could make a difference, I will answer both of those questions for you with great certainty.
Yes, and YES!
That’s it. It’s really not complicated at all.
Canadians have the opportunity to offer help to one another that will inevitably play a role in preventing an invisible injury from becoming more harmful than it may already be – or even leading to a physical injury.
Those of you who know me might have heard that I challenge people to do #onethingsafer
The concept is that if each person makes one small change we can accomplish big things.
Today, I’m throwing my #onethingsafer challenge out to everyone with a suggestion: make your #onethingsafer today to help someone else by doing one small thing. Listen. Ask how someone is doing. Open up about your own experiences.
The mars and scars that live within us may be easier to disguise, however the effort to cover up is harmful in itself. Offering your time and attention to allow someone (who you know or don’t) to speak their truth out loud and share what is troubling them could make a lifetime of difference.
So, Let’s Talk.
Return to Work
When we take a little time to allow ourselves to sit and “miss” anything or anyone – the upside is that we are reminded of just how much we loved what is no longer. I am filled with gratitude that I love my work as much as I do, and I remain optimistic, always, especially during this pandemic that what is now missing will soon return – but, in the meantime? Pivot. Pivot. Pivot.
What has this unprecedented time allowed you to explore or create? I have taken this time to work on the video series I have wanted to develop for years. The book I have always wanted to write is coming along – slowly but very surely, and don’t even get me started on my “starter” – my sourdough game is strong! But, we are humans. We need interaction – to connect. While the abrupt “stop work order” on my travel certainly threw me for a loop, I am doing my best to enjoy the extended time on the ground. Isn’t that what we’re all trying to do right now? Make lemonade – more likely to be spiked, as of late ?
I don’t have children, and I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, yet still I am constantly tuned into the news that is flooded with talk of return to school and return to work. Discussions around safety, trust, and risk have me feeling that I have more to say than ever before about safety and our responsibility to one another – to protect each other. Considering the fact that I feel like I have so much I want to share with you, it’s also painfully obvious to me that I’m going to need to get comfortable with speaking from a different stage.
The world we’re trying to work through and in, is one we’ve never seen before. While the hazards and risks of just simply existing have drastically changed, the message remains the same.
So today, tomorrow and for the foreseeable future, I will work from home with feelings of deep gratitude towards anyone and everyone out there on the front lines working to keep us safe. I will work on staying optimistic, while keeping those who have suffered great loss in my heart and prayers. I will work on practicing patience, knowing how fortunate I am to have a safe place to weather the storm. I will work on trusting the universe, and myself – knowing that this isn’t the first time my life feels like it’s been turned on its side, and it won’t be the last. I will do what it takes to continue to do the work that I love – work that fuels my soul and my spirit. Last, but not least, I will work on figuring out how to make sure you don’t forget that your safety remains my priority… even if my stage has turned into a sofa.
Pivot. Pivot. Pivot.
It’s hard to know what to say, write, and feel about the National Day of Mourning this particular year when it seems like every day has been just that. Since COVID-19, and more recently the massacre here, in my home province of Nova Scotia, the experience of mourning seems constant.
Honestly, as of late, I am waking and choosing the peaceful piano playlist on Spotify over social media, and CBC… at least until noon. I figure the bad news will be there then, whether I’m ready for it or not.
It feels unfamiliar to communicate to you in this tone – one of some sadness and helplessness. The words don’t feel like mine when I write them. My feelings don’t feel like mine as I’m feeling them, but I suspect that when we are living in a world we can barely recognize, foreign emotions are to be expected.
While the magnitude of loss and suffering feel insurmountable in this moment in time – the collective gratitude and goodness continues to conquer. I see it every day. Acts of kindness performed from a distance, making us feel closer. Music being made and funds being raised to support where it’s needed – which is everywhere. Candles being lit, music everywhere, hockey sticks being tapped (a truly Canadian way to show support) and pots being banged each evening – rallying for our front line workers who are tirelessly tackling this pandemic.
Heroes. That’s what they are, these brave people who are leaving their families at home and working tirelessly to protect us, hoping to return safely. The reality is that in these valiant efforts to answer the call of duty to save lives, many are still being lost.
We hear it everyday, “we are all in this together” – and it’s true. We will celebrate with a hug when we are once again allowed to embrace our loved ones.
For today, on this Day of Mourning, I will hold close to my heart those who have not returned home from work. I will pray for those who have been left waiting for the hug that will never happen.
For today, I will leave a candle burning in the window throughout the day and the night in honor of those who aren’t coming home, and to light the way for those who are.
For today, I will bang my pot on the porch at 7 pm for the safe return home of our frontline workers. I don’t know if banging pots on a Day of Mourning is the appropriate thing to do – but I do know that in a time where we may feel at a loss in knowing what feels “right” – we still can do something, and that’s not nothing.
I love going to work from home in Halifax – especially when I get to visit with my friends at Exxon Mobil! Over the past several years I’ve had the opportunity to share my story with them at many of their excellent Safe Starts and other internal Health and Safety events. This is a company that strives for constant improvement. Celebrating what is working well and then building upon it to make it better. Each time I join them and sit and listen in on new safety developments I am always so impressed at their ability to keep their messaging consistent, yet new and exciting.
The last time I worked with Exxon Mobil the push was on to ‘Finish Strong’. Meaning, even when the day is done, or a project is winding down – we don’t let our guard down – we stay the course to ensure that #nobodygetshurt.
While preparing my message this time, I noticed they have added to their powerful message of Finish Strong. Now, it’s “start slow to finish strong” – I love this!
A placard given to me by my late Grammy Mullin hangs on my wall. It reads “the Hurrier I go the Behinder I get”, an ever-present reminder of my very special grandmother, and also to slow down. It was the perfect accompaniment to complement my message for the morning.
I grabbed it off my wall as I walked out the door -and wrapped it up to protect it (which is what we should with things that are precious, dear to us and irreplaceable, right – like ourselves! How’d ya like my PPE metaphor;) and I brought it to share as a reminder that going fast rarely saves time. In fact, rushing often causes stress, dangerous situations and sometimes results in injury.
Safety doesn’t have to be complicated – Grammy Mullin wasn’t – she knew that simply slowing down in life was one of the best ways to stay happy, safe, and focused on what matters most – being present and healthy to spend time with the people you’re really working for – your family!!
Today is a day to remember. A day to give pause in recognition of so many who lost their lives at work. Those who died making a living. For me, it also signifies, and calls to mind, all of the details of the day that my life as I knew it changed. I was one of the lucky ones who survived what countless others did not – I didn’t return home at the end of the work day, but I did eventually go home.
What could have been my ending, turned out to be a new beginning. For that I am eternally grateful. As I sit quietly this morning – the Day of Mourning – sipping my coffee, I give pause and I think of my own family, knowing that no matter how many years pass, the day that changes your life forever will always feel like yesterday… if you’ll allow yourself to revisit. If you can summon up the strength to go there.
I believe today, it’s important to make that journey, as it is through reflection that we not only remember the past, but we also reset for the future and consider the role we plan to play in making our world a safer place to work. A place where getting hurt or killed at work is in no way part of the job.
While mourning and hope aren’t typically thought to go hand and hand, making time and space for our grief is a continuous part of the coping process – a process that will for many, never end. It is my thought that hope often times defeats helplessness. That taking positive action towards preventing what we failed to do in the past may not lessen the pain, but can offer us purpose.
Today, there are services taking place in communities nationwide to commemorate the Day of Mourning. We can also choose to honour those lives lost by visiting a space within ourselves where we truly think about our actions, and commit to improving on an aspect in our lives that directly relates to safety. We can all do “onethingsafer”.
Some women wear their hearts on their sleeve. I wear mine on my leg.
I’m 39 now, but when I was 21 I took a step that would change my life forever. At my summer job at a paper mill, I put my foot on top of an unguarded conveyer belt. It would be the last step I would take with my left foot before the machinery mangled it. My leg had to be amputated below the knee.
My heart was broken. I was no longer the girl spending time contemplating what shoes to wear or skipping out the door in the morning after eating my dad’s banana pancakes. Instead I was trying to choose a suitable foot to replace the one I had lost.
I came as close as one could by way of a English gentleman called David. His eye would craft the look of my first custom designed high heeled limb. His hands would shape it. Though our time together was brief, his affection for me I would wear for the rest of my life by way of a tiny heart, disguised as a freckle on my left ankle.
I had my heart back. Rather than wasting my time looking for love in all the wrong places, I looked within. It wasn’t always easy. Ever since the incident, when looking in the mirror, what was missing was all I had been able to see. But I also came to see that what happened to me was not a “freak accident.”
Every day Canadians—young Canadians in particular—are losing lives and limbs at work. In 2015, the most recent year for official statistics,there were 852 workplace-related fatalities in Canada, according to the Canadian Center for Occupational Health and Safety. Among those dead were 15 workers under age 24.
I deliberately don’t use the phrase “workplace accidents” because that implies these deaths could not have been prevented. Injuries in the workplace are preventable. So if we want to change our culture, we need to change our language and our approach. If we are going to eradicate these injuries in the workplace—and that is an achievable goal—companies and individuals need to accept responsibility.
I am not a not a workplace health and safety specialist. I’m a person who got hurt, one of many. My role is not to speak about rules and regulations – but to appeal to the hearts and minds of the workforce to make safety personal and never optional. Put another way: if you don’t truly understand how a workplace injury could affect your life, no amount of training will matter.
And I want to reach the employers too. I see mandates and missions boasting “Zero Injuries” as the only acceptable goal for corporate Canada.
Just this week I learned about a 33-year old man in New Brunswick who lost his life this month from a fall on a construction site, a fall that could have been prevented.
Once again, my heart is broken. I know his mother’s phone will ring—just as my mother’s did on August 11, 1999. This mother will not be nearly as lucky as mine was. Her son is not coming home.
As another Valentine’s Day approaches, I’ve had enough relationships and time to reflect on the meaning of love — and loss. My love letter to Canadian workers is a short one: No one goes to work alone and no one gets hurt alone. One of the best ways to show you care to the people you love is to come home safe. Trust me when I tell you, when you take a risk it’s not just your risk to take.
People say that when you do what you love, it isn’t work. But it takes a lot of heart to do this work. Thank heavens I have a spare one on my ankle.