Mother Teresa once said, “If you want to change the world, go home and love your family.” From the moment I was a little girl, I longed for a family of my own. I would daydream about how different it would be from the one I grew up in. There would be no excessive drinking at family gatherings, the children would always come first, and our home would be filled with love. I promised myself I would never allow my own children to suffer as I had. I love my parents deeply and understand they did their best with what they were given, yet I knew I could not pass on the intergenerational patterns I had experienced.
As a young adult, my love life was complicated. Codependency and addiction had woven their way into my relationships, and I came to realize I had developed habits that could poison the family I so desperately wanted to create. Determined to do it differently, I committed to personal growth. I immersed myself in therapy, 12-step programs, and personal development books. I learned hard lessons through failed relationships that mirrored old patterns, reminding me of familiar stories from my past. I wonder if you’ve experienced that, too — repeating cycles you desperately want to break.
Eventually, after my last unhealthy relationship ended, I decided to take time entirely for myself. Slowly, I began to follow my own desires and passions. I took Spanish classes, went salsa dancing, joined group meditations, and even pushed myself to join a public speaking club to face my fears. I traveled regularly to Cuba, soaking up life and culture. Professionally, I had a stable job, had purchased a pre-construction condo, and was building a life in Toronto that felt fulfilling. Life on the surface was good, yet I sensed there was more waiting for me.
Then, eight years ago, a question from a friend changed my life. I was telling her about an upcoming month-long trip to Cuba to practice Spanish, and she asked, almost impatiently, “Anna, why Cuba again? If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?” Without thinking, I blurted, “Bolivia.” Instantly, a voice in my head said, “Bolivia? Why Bolivia?” I had only seen one documentary and knew almost nothing about the country. There was no logical reason for the choice — only an inexplicable pull. And so, the idea was planted: I would volunteer in Bolivia and live with a homestay family to learn Spanish. Something inside me was calling me there, and I had no choice but to follow.
I decided to embark on a solo backpacking trip through South America. Since there were no direct flights from Toronto to Bolivia, I stopped in Peru to visit Machu Picchu, thinking it might be my only chance to see it. I had no idea that I would end up living in Peru for six years. I remember the moment of fear as I crossed customs, realizing I was truly alone. Yet beneath the fear, there was a deep inner knowing: I had to do this journey solo.
It wasn’t long before I met my now-husband, Renzo, in one of the most unexpected ways — while out dancing. From the very first moment, there was an intense connection, unlike anything I had ever felt. His eyes were familiar even though we had never met. After years of failed relationships, I had lost faith in destiny and true love, and romantic stories had begun to irritate me. Yet, my body knew the truth: I had to be with this man. My mind could try to rationalize, resist, and create reasons not to trust, but it was hopeless — this was real.
My previous relationships had always been the opposite: my mind convinced my body that everything was fine, that I was safe, that the relationship was “smart,” even when my intuition screamed otherwise. I had honored familiarity over truth. This time, it was different. Renzo, a Peruvian executive, and I would speak daily and meet throughout my trip, building a deep connection despite language differences. Our love story unfolded quickly, like something out of a romance novel — until the day he said we needed to talk about his past. My mind raced with possibilities — divorce, illness, past mistakes — but never did I imagine he had children.
I had always dreamed of adopting one day, and I had vowed never to date a man with kids. When he told me, I broke down, believing our relationship had to end. Yet as we spoke about his children, past marriage, and challenges, I realized he was a loving father trying to do what was right. My mind reminded me of my vow, but my body knew differently. Deep down, I sensed this was a love worth fighting for. We chose faith over fear, and I told him I wanted to keep seeing him.
From there, our relationship moved quickly. I visited Peru often, and six months later, we were engaged — even before I met his children. He was careful and thoughtful, wanting to ensure I was the real deal. Three months after that, I decided to leave my life in Toronto and move to Peru — and discovered I was pregnant. Excitement and nerves intertwined as our new chapter began.
Blended family life was not without challenges. I discovered Renzo was technically still separated, not fully divorced, which triggered fears and insecurities from my past. Communication with the kids was difficult, as they only spoke Spanish. I had to release perfectionism, control, and self-sacrifice while navigating this new role. My identity as a stepmom was tested, and old wounds surfaced. But the personal growth I had cultivated as a single woman helped me navigate this new path. I learned to trust my intuition, to listen to the wisdom of my body, and to teach my children the same.
It wasn’t the “perfect” family I had once imagined — but in reality, it was an even greater blessing. Today, we live in Canada with our five children: my two stepchildren and our three children together. I love our perfectly imperfect family — the mistakes, the laughter, the growth — and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Even now, I am sometimes triggered, and I have to consciously choose new ways to respond. I comfort my inner little girl — the part of me that felt afraid and alone — and reassure her that she is safe, loved, and supported by a higher power. My commitment to growth, intuition, and love guides me forward. I believe challenges are opportunities to evolve, and I hope to uplift other women navigating similar paths.
Following Mother Teresa’s advice, I strive to change the world by loving my family — starting with myself. I have learned to discern fear from intuition, to honor my sacred inner knowing, and to take both small steps and bold leaps of faith. Life is unpredictable, but when we meet challenges with vulnerability and resilience, we thrive. My blended family teaches me every day to embrace the present, trust myself, and be the change I want to see in the world.
