“I’m 72. So What?”

“And now, paradoxically, I feel younger, more vibrant and in better shape physically and emotionally than I did at 60, or even at 50. So is that all a question of perspective?”
Linked article by Catherine Texier for Longreads
Personally, the last few New Year’s Eves I observed and then met a tiny woman well into her nineties who joyously danced the whole night away and my perspective of aging changed. My wish, hope, and prayer is that if I am still here, thirty years from now, I too will pass on the torch of inspiration she did gracefully dancing yet another New Year’s Eve away 😍
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Writer, Founder and President of Connecting The Dots With The Respect Principle

Smashwords interview @  www.smashwords.com

© All Rights Reserved 2014-2019 

October 26, 2019

Why I Legally Changed My First Name from Debra to Kaitlin

Except for my mother, most people, including my father, helped me make the awkward transition from my initial birth name, Debra,  to the name I chose, Kaitlin.

At the time, most people did not ask why out loud, though I have discovered many people held on to the question because they have since asked.

The problem, other than people using their imaginations to speculate why, and not always in a flattering light, is for the longest time I could not even explain all of my reasons. What has finally made me capable of doing so now is because I am writing my story I have titled Carpenter’s Daughter and my name change is part of that story–a part I believe I need to share now.

As with the book I am writing, the name change was about me–not about anyone else. The name change was born out of cathartic process to help me move past the traumatically wounded, chameleon-like person I had become to please people and stay safe. This book is my final cathartic device that needs to be shared to help other people experiencing similar traumas because I finally feel healed and whole.

But, let us get back to the name change reasoning.

As you can read from the Wikipedia post below, there are many variations for the historical name, Deborah, one of which became Debra, the name my parents chose for me. My classrooms were filled with those variations; sometimes there were even six of us in a class. Unbeknownst to my parents, attending Catholic schools from grade one to grade eights, the spelling of my first name was not always received well by teaching nuns since some considered Deborah as the correct spelling as it is in the Bible.

Personally, I did not like the variations people used to call me because it seemed many people wanted to call me what they wanted to call me instead of my actual name Debra by the way it sounds when spelled. Many people could not spell my first name or my last name, Trepanier, right either.

When I married the first time at sixteen, I became Debbie Smith, which was fine, that is, until my husband’s family started calling me Big Debbie, I was five foot nine, almost, and my husband’s younger brother’s wife name was Debbie, not much over five feet too, so they called her Little Debbie so they could distinguish between us when they were talking about us.

Teased, tormented, and disrespected for other reasons you can read about in my upcoming book, at first, I only contemplated what a name change would entail, but by the time I hit my “dark night of the soul” in my late thirties, not making the name change seemed a self-inflicted cruelty I could avert.

Deborah (given name)

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

The prophetess Deborah as imagined by Gustave Doré.
Gender Female
Word/name Hebrew
Meaning Bee
Other names
Nickname(s) Deb, Debs, Debby,
Related names Deb, Debby, Debbie, Debra, Melissa (Greek), Erlea (Basque)

Deborah (Hebrew: דְבוֹרָה‎) is a feminine given name derived from דבורה D’vorah, a Hebrew word meaning “bee.” Deborah was a heroine and prophetess in the Old Testament Book of Judges. In the United States, the name was most popular from 1950 to 1970, when it was among the 20 most popular names for girls. It was the 25th most common name for women in the United States in the 1990 census. It has since fallen in popularity. It ranked as the 780th most popular name for baby girls born in 2007 in the United States, down from 676th most popular name in 2006.[1]

The name is Déborah in French, Débora in Portuguese and Spanish, Debora in Italian and Czech.


Kate was a young woman I met in my late teens. She was the opposite of the quiet me. Vivacious, bold, and confident her laughter filled the air along with her jests and I wanted to be more like her rather than the increasingly quiet timid soul I had become.

But I did not want to be called Kate because it was too abrupt and harsh like Deb, the name most people called me, even when I said my name was Debbie, which had become the commonest version of Debra.

When I married at twenty one, my last name became Webber and I became Debbie Webber. After I began my healing path venture that was near the end of my second marriage of nineteen years, I stumbled across the realization I really did not like being called Debbie Webber. The name sounded childish to me and I did not want it any more. Neither name reflected how I felt inside.

I had been hoping, even expecting I would marry again and would take his last name, but I did not know when, so to me the thing to do was to finally change my first name.

In researching the name Kate, I discovered its origin, Catherine, a name I had always liked, but it did not speak to me. Kaitlin did though. And when I discovered  the origins of Caitlin, I knew it was the right choice because it would also honour my mother and her Irish heritage in the same way my father’s last name honoured his French heritage.


From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Caitlin (pronounced [ˈkatʲlʲiːnʲ]) is a female given name of Irish origin. It is the Irish version of the Old French name Cateline [katlin], which comes from Catherine, which in turn comes from the Ancient Greek Αἰκατερίνη (Aikaterine). Catherine is attributed to St. Catherine of Alexandria.[1] Along with the many other variants of Catherine, it is generally believed to mean “pure” because of its long association with the Greek adjective καθαρός katharos (pure), though the name did not evolve from this word.[2]

Historically, the name was only anglicized as Cathleen or Kathleen. In the 1970s, however, non-Irish speakers began pronouncing the name as /ˈkeɪtlɪn/ KAYT-lin, which led to many variations in spelling.[3][4][5]

As it turns out, there are also many variations now of Kaitlin, especially since it became a common name in the last several years, so the odds of someone spelling my name right are ironically few and far between. Add the fact I did not remarry as hoped, I also chose to revert to my maiden name Trepanier in 2008, making for more confusion for people, but made sense to me. I could not see keeping the last name any longer of a husband I divorced in 1997.

And that’s that. There is no dark, lurid, or criminal past I am trying to cover. There is no one I am hiding from. The reason for the changes are personal, part of my healing process, and the reclamation of my identity. Will I revert to my original name Debra? I do not know. I have considered it. My mother would love it if I did, but love her as I do, I think I will just send her a copy of this post. But I do not think so, even though I recognize Debra as a beautiful name bore by a Biblical heroine and prophetess that was given to me by my parents because of their love for me. However, I like the name Kaitlin. It is both strong and soft, plus its meaning “pure” reflects the person I became–pure of heart, freed from trauma that imprisoned me for most of my life.


Writer, Founder and President of Connecting The Dots With The Respect Principle

Smashwords interview @  www.smashwords.com

© All Rights Reserved 2014-2019 

October 16, 2019




THE DANCE (Excerpt from the non-fiction work-in-process book, Carpenter’s Daughter)


Kaitlin Ann Trepanier

(Excerpt from the non-fiction work-in-process, Carpenter’s Daughter: 1952 words)

All copyrights reserved by author, Kaitlin Ann Trepanier


Watching him dance the night away with many of the available women of various ages, my heart sank when I concluded what I had been waiting for was not going to happen. Of course, what else could I realistically expect at a business party–or any party considering my bad behavior of late.

The day I started work at the company I saw the stranger glide across the warehouse’s cement floor. My heart raced, then thudded, when I looked at the ring still on my left hand. I knew my marriage was at an impasse and likely was ending because my husband refused outright the changes I, we, needed to make in order for me to follow my heart’s calling. even though he was already fulfilling his own dream. He also refused marriage counselling regardless of the fact we had separated once before. True, I had acted inappropriately to incite our split, but only because nothing else seemed to catch his attention seriously enough to notice we were falling apart. Some people, I have come to realize, want nothing to change and will spend more energy trying to keep things the same rather than use the energy to adapt, change, and grow.

Hearing my name called by the supervisor snatched my attention back to the present. Seeing the supervisor’s wave directing me to the back door, I noticed the stranger glide towards the exit too. “You go with him. He will show you,’ the Asian man grinned. I could not even look at the tall stranger for fear of him seeing my feelings on my face. Instead, I tucked my head down and followed his long stride with mine out the door.

“I’ll drive this time,” he said as we both slid into the small car. “You can drive a standard, right?’

“Yes, I drive a motorcycle,” I blurted as my sight caught the blue of his eyes.

Silently we drove to downtown Toronto and silently I watched his efforts as he pulled souvenir inventory and packed it into boxes before loading the boxes onto a trolley. Ready to head up to the stores to merchandise the products, we broke for lunch first.

Awkwardly sitting in the CN Tower’s food court, silence dominated the space between us. I felt his presence keenly just a few feet away from me and my breath caught every time I looked directly in to his eyes. Hoping for an icebreaker, I was relieved when he took out of his lunch bag several herbal capsules from a company I too was also using. The commonality broke the ice and an ease flowed between us. The afternoon flew by as did the training because the job was a simple, even if a time consuming one.

Offering me the keys the next day, he directed the route to Wonderland, but unfortunately with Wonderland not yet being open to the public and our access unexpectedly not available either, we had to delay the training session. With packed lunches in hand we made our way to one of the many parking lots islands of grass and trees. The car stood alone like sentinel on the vast sea of pavement.

“It’s my birthday,” he sighed as he opened the container of cupcakes. “She wouldn’t even make me a birthday cake.”

I would have made you a birthday cake my silent voice whispered in my head.

Sitting there alone in the expanse of empty space, our hearts pounded out our stories. Rain forced us into the small confined space of the car, but our words did not stop. Our breaths steamed the windows until we were forced to return to the company. For the first time ever, I did not feel alone.

What I did not know about me at the time is that I am highly intuitive in contrast to many other people, well, people that I knew anyway. I seemed to sense how important this new person was to me, but it did not make sense. With my head I found myself naively judging what was between us as just another physical attraction, while I also knew somehow our connection was so much more. But then again, because of my younger year experiences, I was kind of screwed up emotionally as my subsequent poor choices reveal.

In less than a month, I knew I was in love with him. For the first time a relationship for me was not about sex, but about mutual sharing of thoughts, ideas, and interests. I felt seen, heard, appreciated, and even admired, made even more evident by the lack of such experiences ever in my life.

What I also did not know then and in my life before him is how my primary love language is touch. Combined with discovering my personality type is very unusual, as is my learning style too, it is now easy to understand why my younger years were filled with traumas that impaired healthy development and relationships.

I did not know all this then. All I knew was I had to tell him how I felt, so I arranged to meet him outside of work. He brought CDs and videos for me and I brought anxiety and nervousness that prevented me from saying the words I knew I needed to say, but I was still mired in disbelief of what was transpiring.

“You can’t even say it,” he growled quietly as he looked away. Nonetheless, perched on a driftwood log on the beach, we both sat unwaveringly talking and sharing until the spring air cooled our bodies beyond the warmth our clothes provided.

When he grabbed my hand to pull me up over the edge of the bluff, electricity coursed through me and I could not speak. As I watched him pull away, I knew I had to leave my husband regardless of this man’s actions.

“You have to get unmarried,” he told me one sunny evening in the country school yard after he whirled his car into the parking lot after looking for and seeing my car in what was becoming our meeting place.

Ripping apart a twenty-year relationship, even if I knew it was the right and even moral thing to do broke my heart, but not as much as I knew staying would. Within a couple months, the few belongings I took from our suburban home filled my little country apartment.

The following month he left his partner; the girl who had broken his heart before because he knew it was a mistake to be with her for a second go round, so I was confused when all of a sudden he started to spend less time, professionally and personally with me.

I grew scared: scared because I never wanted anything or anyone as much as I wanted him and to be with him day and night. Of course, I did not know at the time, a big part of my woundedness was born from rejection and abandonment; therefore, me let me just say here and now the changing circumstances certainly did not bring out my best qualities, personally or professionally, which saddened and mortified me because I had grown accustomed to identifying strongly with my ability to do a good job no matter what, probably because I felt it was the only aspect of me people valued.

But then came the news of the company Christmas party and somehow I naively thought that would make things better. Wrong. Yet I really did know better. Previous corporate experience taught me company events are company events, not real social settings where one could just be one’s self. When he told me he was escorting a young woman from the company because her fiancé could not attend, I was conflicted, but the day of the event I told myself to make the best of it.

Rather than driving back home, I showered and changed at a friend’s place when I discovered he, who lived much further away, was using the company facilities to shower and change for the festivities because it felt too personal.

Agreeing to meet a female co-worker, who had become a confidant about the situation, was my attempt to calm myself before the party, but to no avail. When we walked through the ballroom’s doors together, suddenly she disappeared and there I was, standing beside a large pillar, my eyes scanning the large room bustling with many colours, voices, and music.

Self-consciously I considered what I was wearing when I saw more formal clothes on many of the women, but I waved the matter aside since I had not dressed for the women but for him. My body-fitting black dress was topped by a cropped red wool jacket and finished with a black pair of patent leather pumps, thrusting my height to six feet, high enough to see over most of the crowd. And there he was, far across on the other side of the room. Our eyes locked. I felt like I was in a movie. He was there and then he was gone. I looked anxiously about, but his over six foot frame was not to be seen. Dejected, I thought, what a bad idea it was coming to the party, but then, as always I felt his presence first before I saw him as he walked behind me and came to rest on my unprotected right side.

Just as he was appraising me with his eyes, our employer walked by, “Look at her,” he said as he waved his arm my way. Of course, I do not recall what our employer said because I was wrapped up in the man I loved surprised gaze and approving smile. With the employer gone, blue eyes reached out and ran his hand along my coat’s arm and then compared the feel of my jacket to his black cashmere. He smiled and said, “I am sitting with our department head,” which left me baffled, wondering where I was supposed to sit since it was obvious I would not be sitting with our department head and him.

Abandoned, but rescued by my confidante, we found seats at the front of the room with the sales team, directly across from my department’s table and blue eyes.

Not having partners, many of the women got up to dance as women do, including me. When he joined the little circles of women dancers, I watched him with an appreciative eye and when he slow-danced with his escort, then another female friend of his, whom I did not like, I whimpered inside wondering as the night passed by if he would ever dance with me.

The crowd was shrinking as the night faded as were my hopes. But then I felt his eyes upon me and before he even got to the table I stood up knowing he was coming for me. Following him to the dance floor, my heart raced and my breath quickened. I was worried I would do something foolish in front of all the people I knew were watching us. Then he put his hand on my back and grasped my other hand and whispered, “A perfect fit.”

My breath stopped briefly. The world faded away. I still do not recall what song played as we glided harmoniously across the small dance floor. All I knew is I was in heaven as I breathed in his scent and felt his firm hold that made me feel safe, secure, and treasured.

Then, the music stopped, he grabbed my hand and led me to his table to show me something he had co-created before he quickly released his grasp and I was left standing in a state of dizzying shock.



Writer, Founder, and President of Connecting The Dots With The Respect Principle


Smashwords interview @  www.smashwords.com

© All Rights Reserved 2014-2019

September 28, 2019


“Carpenter’s Daughter”

The following is the introduction from the work-in-process nonfiction book, Carpenter’s Daughter.


To my dad and mom for doing the best you could with what you knew.


The insights psychology, sociology, philosophy, history, and knowledge in general has to teach us empowers us to move beyond what was passed on to us in order to make the world a better place for the next generations. Understanding, even if in retrospect, enables us to connect the dots of our lives that may not have made sense when we were in the middle of experiencing our lives, but can also help us make sense later as we gain new knowledge and view our life through an enlightened lens.

My first version of my life story, Beyond the Pain A Journey of Healing, was written by an angry ignorant woman child still racked by pain and confusion, looking to lay blame in the early stages of healing. The publication offer from a small Arizona press was declined by me when I realized the book was not what I wanted my loved ones or me to be remembered for, plus as a cathartic device the book truly was only helpful for me.

The second book, A Charmed Life, was an attempt to write a creative nonfiction that used a unique approach to avoid pointing fingers, naming names, and placing blame, but as a result, it is a complex unusual book that I realized would not help me succeed in achieving the purpose for sharing my story.

In contrast, this version of my story, Carpenter’s Daughter, is none of the above. Instead, it is written to tell the story truthfully and respectfully, without blaming, naming, and pointing fingers because of the significance of my being a personality type estimated to be only 6% percent of the American population and the ramifications of that fact on the people in my life and me.

Presenting my story as a non-typical individual explains how I became the perfect person to launch the global initiative, Connecting The Dots With The Respect Principle, dedicated to transforming respect for all people and life from a discretionary value to a foundational belief that all humanity can embrace, regardless of their other beliefs, in order for all people to thrive because then humanity wins as it never has.

Even without the social implications, the economic and environmental implications alone will save us trillions of dollars, and the social implications have the power to create the peace and security of our wildest dreams.

The publication date is not yet determined, so stayed tuned!


Writer, Founder and President of Connecting The Dots With The Respect Principle

Smashwords interview @  www.smashwords.com

© All Rights Reserved 2014-2019 

September 21, 2019


A Perspective on Empowerment

Raised a Catholic, I witnessed what I judged as hypocrisy that turned me away from religion and God. After exploring many other beliefs, now I know it was not the hypocrisy as much as it was ignorance on many people’s parts, plus my throwing the baby (God) with the bathwater (man’s interpretations).

My return to faith in God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit has been a difficult and challenging experience for my dominant logical and practical mind, yet my return to faith has also strengthened my inherent compassion for all people, regardless of their beliefs, and therefore something I embrace wholeheartedly because even before I returned to God I believed every person, every life, should be respected simply for being a life and then our world would be a better place for us all. Of course, when I started reading the Bible for myself I discovered respect for all people is God’s desire also.

Whatever you believe, I share my poem/prayer not to offend, but to encourage and inspire celebration as an expression to God of my gratitude for adding so much joy to my life, empowering me to thrive in a world where people are disrespected in many ways and so I can do my part to change the world’s core principle of disrespect to respect.

Oh Heavenly Father

Thank you

for being like

an eagle with eaglets,

at first making our nests

comfy, safe, and warm,

but then, out of love,

piece by piece

removing the comfy bits

so we don’t want to stay

in the nest anymore.


Thank you too

for even pushing us

out of our safe nests

and then racing to catch

us as we fall towards the ground.


And most of all,

gratefully we cry out

our thank you

for not giving up on us

until we realize we are

not to live so bound

but are to flap our wings to fly –

to soar as you created us to do.


In sweet Jesus’s name, Amen.

Kaitlin Ann Trepanier, April 2019



Writer, Founder and President of Connecting The Dots With The Respect Principle

Smashwords interview @  www.smashwords.com

© All Rights Reserved 2014-2019 

September 8, 2019




An Original Poem About Silence: Shining Drops


Amid the clouds

of silence,

soft whispers


infuse the


with shining


of refreshing


washing away

all the tears

constant noise



Writer, Founder and President of Connecting The Dots With The Respect Principle

Smashwords interview @  www.smashwords.com

© All Rights Reserved 2014-2019 

September 2, 2019