Endotbay, Thunder Bay, ON (2026)

07/16/2026

Thank you to everyone who has reached out to check in with me over the past few days. Your messages have meant a lot.

I am safe. My asthma and mcas has been challenging due to the poor air quality, but like so many others in Northwestern Ontario, I’ve been staying indoors as much as possible while the wildfire smoke continues to blanket our region.

Right now, we’re surrounded by hundreds of active wildfires, many of them still burning out of control. Entire communities have been evacuated. Families have been forced to leave behind their homes, their belongings, and years of memories with little notice. Indigenous communities I have had the privilege in visiting and spending time in, are completely gone. It’s absolutely heartbreaking to witness.

Thunder Bay is currently acting as the evacuation hub to keep families safe through this devastating loss. However, the smoke has pushed our cities air quality into dangerous levels, and the combination of wildfire smoke and an ongoing heat wave has made conditions especially difficult. For those of us living with chronic illnesses, even stepping outside can trigger symptoms or make existing ones significantly worse. Environment Canada is advising everyone to limit time outdoors because heavy wildfire smoke can affect anyone’s health, regardless of age or medical history.

My heart is with the communities directly in the path of these fires, the families who have been displaced, the firefighters, emergency crews, Indigenous communities, volunteers, wildlife and everyone working tirelessly to protect lives and the animals.

If you’re in an area affected by the smoke, be gentle with yourself, stay indoors when you can, and don’t ignore how your body is feeling.

There are a few ways you can support the North⬇️⬇️

I’ve attached a few I’ve come across but there are many more. If you’re in Tbay, keep an eye on local organizations and community updates as needs continue to evolve.

Thank you again and please keep everyone impacted by these devastating wildfires in your thoughts and prayers.

Stay safe.

Sincerely,
Cass🤎

03/08/2026

To be a woman is to be forged in quiet fires.

It is to wake up inside a body the world has tried to silence, regulate, legislate, diagnose, doubt, and dismiss and still rise anyway.

It is to carry pain in places no one can see and still show up with compassion.
To bleed, to break, to rebuild.
To be told you are too much, too loud, too emotional, too ambitious and to become magnificent in spite of it.

To be a woman is to inherit centuries of resistance in your bones.

We are the daughters of women who refused to disappear.
The granddaughters of women who endured.
The sisters of women who are still fighting to be heard, believed, and safe in their own bodies.

We know exhaustion.
We know grief.
We know the weight of systems not built for us.

But we also know how to rise.

Again.
And again.
And again.

We rise in hospital rooms and boardrooms.
In courtrooms, classrooms, kitchens, and protest lines.
We rise in quiet resilience and loud defiance.

We turn survival into power.
Pain into advocacy.
Silence into thunder.

And when we stand together;
chronic illness warriors, mothers, daughters, survivors, dreamers, healers, rebels;
we become something unstoppable.

Because women are not fragile little things.

We are relentless.
We are fierce.
We are brilliant.
We are complicated, tender, furious, soft, unbreakable, and wildly alive.

And yes, we are absolutely badass.

So today, on International Women’s Day,
I celebrate every woman who is still fighting her battles: visible or invisible.

The ones rebuilding themselves.
The ones speaking truth.
The ones surviving quietly and loudly.
The ones changing the world in ways history will one day understand.

To every woman reading this:

Your strength matters.
Your voice matters.
Your survival matters.

Today, and everyday, we celebrate women.

All of us.
Every single one.

Happy International Women’s Day.🖤💪🏼

01/14/2026

Normalize believing chronically ill patients.
Not when it’s convenient.
Not when the tests finally prove it.
Not after years of suffering and trauma.

Believe us the first time.
Believe us while we’re still fighting.
Believe us before the irreparable damage is done.

K, thanks!😉🖤

01/01/2026

If Spotify gets to summarize a year of music,
We get to summarize a year of chronic pain, sh*tshows, flare-ups, medical trauma, and our bodies acting like it’s in a constant state of hypervigilance.

2025 was a mess.
A complete medical disaster.
A plot twist that didn’t need twisting.
A highlight reel of pain, fatigue, inflammation, autoimmune chaos, and chronic illness bingo cards we never asked to play.

But we made it.
Barely.
Resiliently.
Sarcastically.
And with more unhinged dark humour than any person should have to have.

Here’s to everyone who is fighting daily battles no one sees…
To everyone living in pain…
To everyone juggling appointments, diagnoses, medication shortages, flare-ups, trauma, grief, and a severely broken healthcare system.

You made it through another year.
And that alone deserves a standing ovation (from someone else, because we’re not standing).
I’m so damn proud of every single one of us warriors.

Here’s to finally wrapping up 2025—together.🖤✨

12/30/2025

I’ve never really known how to celebrate my birthday…

For a long time, it felt safer to make the day small than to risk disappointment, especially being chronically ill. Loss, grief, pain, chronic illness, and trauma have a way of teaching you not to expect too much.

This time last year, my world was incredibly different. I had lost my home, my stability, and nearly everything I owned. It was just me and my cats, trying to survive quietly. I carried so much of that pain silently and alone. I asked for very little—just a safe place, food in the fridge, and the ability to keep going.

I sold everything. I watched my entire life walk out the door piece by piece, and it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever witnessed. In losing almost everything, I learned what actually matters.

I learned how little I need, and how much strength I carry. I learned how to love myself in a quieter, steadier way; protecting my peace, by choosing myself, and showing up even when it’s hard. To never take my mental health for granted. To choose my health—mentally, physically, emotionally above everything.

I’ve lost friends. I’ve lost family. I’ve lost versions of myself. I’ve lost the body I once knew. I’ve endured surgeries, chronic pain, and long, dark stretches where simply staying felt like an act of courage.

I’ve learned that peace is not boring—it’s sacred. In a world where chronic illness is constant chaos, I do not take stillness for granted. I love the quiet now. The books. The sitcoms. The crafting. The small, intentional life I built.

Even though being alone can still feel scary sometimes, it brings me a kind of peace I never want to lose again.

Thirty-five years of lessons shaped by grief, pain, trauma, illness, resilience, and an unshakeable will to keep going. Thirty-five years of learning how to choose myself. Thirty-five years of becoming someone I’m deeply proud of and someone I’m still growing and learning about every single day.

Here’s to 35 years. 35 chapters. 35 lessons.
Here’s to choosing me.🤎🎂✨

12/25/2025

Christmas isn’t always joyful for everyone…

Some of us are managing unbearable symptoms instead of traditions.
Some are holding boundaries instead of hands.
Some are grieving loved ones, versions of ourselves, or the futures we thought we’d have.
Some are spending today alone, not by choice, but by circumstance.

If today feels heavy, quiet, or nothing like the holidays you see on social media or in the movies, the ones you once had, or the one you envisioned, you’re not failing at Christmas…

You’re surviving something very real and you’re not alone.

Living with chronic pain, endometriosis, grief, and other chronic illnesses, can make life feel like it’s been split into the before and after—like your story took a turn you never expected. But even here, in this chapter that feels unfinished or unbelievably hard, your story is still unfolding.

Rest counts. Logging off counts. Breathing counts. Crying counts. Existing counts.

I see your silent battles, your incredible resilience and everything in between. So, I’m holding space for you and everyone who needs it today.

Because even if you can’t see what comes next right now, this isn’t the end of your story; your next chapter awaits.🤎✨

invisibleillness

12/21/2025

There will be a lot of posts this season sharing how magical the holidays are, how much was accomplished, and how incredible 2025 was, but it’s okay if the only thing you did this year was survive.

This time of year can be a painful reminder of so many things, especially for those of us living with chronic illness. Social media has a way of making our lives feel smaller or less-than when they don’t match the sparkling highlight reels of others. But the truth is, the holidays are deeply personal, and everyone deserves to celebrate in a way that honours their own needs. For many of us, that means letting go of the “shoulds” and redefining what the season looks like.

For me, releasing traditional expectations was both liberating and empowering. I realized I didn’t need a packed house, a loud party, or a full table to make the holidays meaningful. I was often sick around this time of year, cancelling plans and carrying unnecessary stress. Eventually, I learned to prioritize how I felt—not just physically, but emotionally and mentally. With illnesses that are unpredictable and chaotic, I’ve found peace in a quiet day with my cat, completely alone. We open gifts in the morning, watch our favourite holiday movies, listen to Christmas music, take a cozy cat nap—no big feasts, no pressure, no clean-up.

So I’m here to remind you that it’s okay to rewrite your holiday traditions. You’ve fought hard this year. It’s okay to use this busy season to slow down, reset, and recharge. Make simple memories. Rest when you need to. And most importantly, give yourself permission to put yourself first.💚🌲✨

12/21/2025

There is absolutely nothing silent about

Endotbay

07/16/2026

03/08/2026

01/14/2026

01/01/2026

12/30/2025

12/25/2025

12/21/2025

12/21/2025

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