I was a financial mess before tragedy struck. But that reckoning brought a sense of empowerment

This First Person column is the experience of Debbie Belgrave, who lives in Calgary. For more information about CBC's First Person stories, please see the FAQ.

When I was younger, I gave no thought to personal finances. I drove a luxury vehicle, enjoyed travelling the world with my husband Tyler, eating out and feeling carefree.

I was also consumed by my work. I had a demanding government job that increasingly took up nearly all my mental bandwidth — leaving less and less for my family and hobbies. When I thought about it, I wanted to leave. But the paycheque went straight to utilities, childcare and an increasing debt.

We enjoyed spending the money and we were trapped by it. That's just how life was. 

The day everything changed was supposed to be like any other Sunday. I woke up in the morning when my four-year-old daughter India climbed on the bed. Then I realized Tyler wasn't beside me.

He was still upstairs on the couch, lying in exactly the same position as when I left the night before, sitting upright, head tilted slightly left ear toward his left shoulder. And as India started to climb up and try to get his attention, he barely responded.

I called 911.

It was the beginning of a long journey for both of us — and not just a medical journey, but a trip that would challenge my own sense of self, finances, material things and life overall.

A neurologist in the emergency room said Tyler experienced a ruptured brain aneurysm and multiple strokes. He had a successful angiogram surgery, but afterward, the medical team warned me that he would not be the same person he was before. 

It was true. When we left the hospital, he was no longer outgoing, spontaneous and energetic. Eventually a specialist concluded in a written letter for government support, "Tyler will be unable to work again."

At first, I was just grateful Tyler was alive. Then I started to take stock of the situation. I remembered the little embryo growing inside me and my four-year-old daughter. I thought of our debts. The weight of our new norm came crashing down on me. 

In the months that followed, I dreamed I was crouching under an unstable bridge as a black tanker train rushed toward me.

Tyler's income dropped to $20,000 a year from $270,000. I kept my secure, higher-paying government job out of necessity and relied on friends and family to get us through the first months.

When my youngest was born, I realized I couldn't afford to get a nanny. Instead I gambled that Tyler was capable enough to care for her and handle drop-off/pick-ups for India at kindergarten. The gamble paid off and everyone survived.