EPISODE 41: The Seven Year Bitch
Reflecting on a Season of Personal Change
This post feels different.
It’s not about systems, scaling, or leadership strategy. It’s not about franchising or finding momentum. It’s about me. The real, unpolished, slightly bruised version of me that’s been unraveling and rebuilding through the first seven years of my fifties.
I’ve jokingly called this stretch: “The Seven Year Bitch”. Not to be crass, but because no other title felt honest enough to capture what it’s been. A little messy. A little sharp. Sometimes harsh. Always transformational.
These past seven years have been a season of personal undoing and redefinition, and if you’re navigating your own version of this right now, I want you to know: you’re not alone.
It Started With Cancer
I entered my fifties with a breast cancer diagnosis… just months after my 50th birthday.
There’s no guidebook for how that changes you. You don’t just survive the diagnosis. You survive the treatment. The ripple effects. The trauma that settles into your bones. Your body betrays you, then medicine breaks it down even further. What you knew of yourself starts to unravel, physically, mentally, emotionally.
I had been strong. Energetic. Athletic. Suddenly, I wasn’t. And I didn’t know how to make peace with that shift.
The first truth I had to learn: you don’t go back to who you were before. You carry forward the new version, even if you’re still grieving the old one.
When Friendships Quietly Fall Apart
Cancer was one kind of pain. But I didn’t expect the deeper ache that came from the quiet unraveling of friendships I thought were forever.
Core relationships. Ride-or-dies. Women who were with me in the trenches; some even shaving their heads beside me in solidarity. But over time, without fights or final words, those connections faded. Some disappeared altogether.
That shook me. Because behind the grief of those losses was something deeper. A childhood wound that reopened every time someone pulled away. It triggered something in me I hadn’t fully processed: a memory of my mother, leaving without warning, over and over again.
It reminded me how much we tie our identity to our relationships. How easily we can internalize someone else’s silence as our own failure. And how deeply personal grief can echo across years, decades, even generations.
Family Fractures and Legacy Tension
It wasn’t just friends. As Darren and I stepped into building our legacy business, Door Gurus, some of the deepest cracks appeared in our family.
There was legal tension. Threats. Estrangement. Kids who no longer speak. Sisters who can’t find common ground. And all of it unfolding against the backdrop of what was supposed to be our season of vision and purpose.
We wrote about some of this in our book, Awkward Family Dinners, and have shared glimpses in past posts and conversations. But the full story? It’s still tender. Still unfinished. Still unfolding.
What I’ll say is this: building something powerful can cost more than you expect. It can bring out fear, protectiveness, and grief in those closest to you. And even if the vision is good, the process can still hurt.
The Woman I Missed (and Am Relearning to Be)
In my 40s, I was playful. Confident. Adventurous. I said yes to everything. That version of me filled every room she entered.
Somewhere in the past seven years, she got quieter. Not because she stopped existing, but because the cumulative weight of everything made her harder to access. I didn’t recognize the slow retreat until it started to ache.
But recently, something shifted.
A conversation with a fellow mastermind member helped me reconnect with that earlier version of myself, the one who trusted herself without overthinking, who showed up fully, who chased joy without apology.
She reminded me that my spark didn’t vanish. It just needed time and permission to reignite.
Final Thoughts: Rebuilding from the Fire
I’m not going to wrap this post up with a perfect bow; I can’t. That wouldn’t accurately reflect reality. There’s no “everything is better now” conclusion here. But there is a turning point.
I’m choosing to believe that these seven years, painful as they’ve been, were a kind of fire. And now, I get to decide who rises from the ashes.
Not a younger version of myself. Not a carbon copy of the woman I once was. But someone stronger. Softer. Wiser. And still rooted in connection.
If this post stirred something in you, I hope you’ll reach out. We’re meant to grow in community, not isolation.
And if you’re walking through your own fire right now: I see you. Keep going. You’re becoming someone remarkable.
Stay Connected with Mr. & Mrs. CEO
We’d love to continue this conversation! Connect with us on social media:
Darren’s Instagram: @darren.hiebert
Kim’s Instagram: @kimberley.hiebert
Darren’s LinkedIn: Darren Hiebert
Kim’s LinkedIn: Kimberley Hiebert
Website: Mr. & Mrs. CEO