Small Wins, Big Strength: How Overcoming One Moment at a Time Led to My Biggest Victory
- Diana Hurley Cameron
- Mar 19
- 5 min read
Earlier this week, while in a personal training session, I learned one of my most favourite people was going through a very dark time and this led me to want to share my story in case you needed to hear someone else's survival guide. You are strong. You can do hard things. You matter. And if you don't feel like you have anyone left, I know you have one person who loves you and that's me. XO
My most personal story:
Almost 5 years ago, my life took an unexpected turn. I was working as a supervisor at a homeless shelter at the height of COVID—not my chosen career, but a role I had taken while recovering from a knee injury sustained at the very end of my RCMP academy training.
The days were relentless. The shelter had become overdose central, a heartbreaking reality that took a heavy toll on frontline staff. No matter your stance on addiction, witnessing people you care about turn "smurf blue" is something that stays with you. Every hour brought a new crisis—government mandates changed on a dime, and on that particular day, there was even an actual fire to put out. A literal fire.
At the end of an extra-long 12-hour shift, I finally returned home, emotionally and physically drained. Earlier that day, my daughter had moved out with her boyfriend—a milestone that stirred all the emotions only a mother could understand. When I saw an envelope with my name on it, I assumed it was from her—maybe another one of her sweet notes or an apology for something small (IYKYK).
But as I opened it, my throat tightened, a lump forming the size of a baseball.
It wasn’t from my daughter. It was from a concerned human, informing me that my husband of 20+ years had been having multiple affairs.
In that moment, it felt like I had left my body. But if there’s one thing I know, it’s how to respond to a crisis. And this time, the crisis was me.
Crisis Response Mode: My 10 Steps to Survival
Call my mom. I needed a safe space to cry, plan, vent… and have a damn glass of wine. I instructed her to pick me up in 20 minutes.
Call my husband of 21 years. I informed him that we needed an emergency, in-person conversation. His response? He’d be home in 3.5 hours. Now I had a timeline.
Check in on my kids. My daughter was settled in her new home. I let my son, who was in grade 11 at the time, know I was heading out for a few hours.
Sit at my mom’s kitchen table. I read the letter aloud. Twice. Shock. Disbelief. I had known our relationship had been strained since my time away at Depot, but this? Unimaginable.
Make a plan. I texted my boss to cover my shifts, citing a family emergency. I wrote a to-do list.
Face the music. That night, I sat across from my husband at the kitchen table. I showed him the letter. He denied it—at first. But when I pressed, the truth poured out. The texts. The pictures. The undeniable betrayal. I physically felt ill.
Stand my ground. When he followed me into the kitchen, trying to explain, something inside me snapped. I had never been violent, but training kicked in—I used a control hold I learned at Depot and pressed him against the fridge. “You are now single,” I told him. “And tomorrow, you’re telling our kids why.”
Seek professional guidance. I called two close friends—both professional therapists—to ask for advice on what to tell my children and how to navigate the next steps.
Hold the toughest family meeting of my life. Heartbreaking. Necessary.
Walk into my doctor’s office and ask for an STI panel. The most humbling, humiliating experience of my life.
Rebuilding From the Rubble
Over the next few days, my sole focus was on my children. My love for them far exceeded my anger toward my ex. I learned quickly that while I couldn’t control his actions, I could control mine. I leaned into therapy, I reached out online for resources, and I committed to healing.
Friends disappeared—many preferred the bubbly, always-available Diana. The isolation was real. But in the darkness, there were also unexpected connections.
Just six days after my separation, I reconnected with an old male friend who was going through something similar. A classic rebound? Oh, 100%. No regrets—just two people finding comfort in shared pain. It fizzled out quickly. We had nothing in common except betrayal. IYKYK.
But I was moving forward. And forward was all that mattered.
The Power of Small Wins
Every single day, I made a conscious choice to take one step forward.
I became a certified grief recovery coach, determined to help others while healing myself.
I reclaimed prioritizing my wellness, slowly but surely, focusing on nourishing my body instead of punishing it, always a work in progress.
I put myself back out there—and on Christmas Eve, my daughter helped me set up a dating profile “just for fun.” Who knew that one of the men I "swiped on" that night would become my husband?
I met Jim on New Year’s Day 2021, and now we've been together for about 4.5 years. He is patient, kind, understanding, and calm. I am happy.
Why This Story Matters
I know my story isn’t unique. Maybe you’ve faced betrayal, heartbreak, loss, or unexpected life detours. Maybe you’re in the thick of it right now.
If I could go back to that night—after a hellish shift, my daughter moving, that life-altering letter—I would want to read this. I would want to know that one day, it would get better.
I didn’t just survive; I thrived.
And so can you.
Your Small Wins Matter
Maybe your win today is getting out of bed. Maybe it’s drinking more water. Maybe it’s setting a boundary, taking a walk, or resisting the urge to text someone who doesn’t deserve your time. No win is too small.
So, I want to hear from you: What’s your small but mighty win this week?
Drop a comment, send me a message, or share your story. Let’s build momentum together—one step at a time.
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Because, my friend, you are tougher than you think. And you can do hard things.
With strength and resilience,
Coach Diana
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