At six-thirty on a rainy Monday, the halls of Rosemary Heights are already filling with the low hum of morning rounds. Tarn Rai walks the main corridor with a notepad in hand, greeting night-shift staff on their way out and day-shift workers just clocking in. She stops to ask how the overnight went, listens closely, and smiles when a care aide shares a small success. It is a routine that began almost six years ago, when Tarn first entered healthcare as a wide-eyed nineteen-year-old.
Back then, she expected to stay a few months, maybe a year, before moving on to something else. Yet the work drew her in. She discovered that the line between staff and family can blur in the best possible way, and that trust is earned one honest conversation at a time.
Tarn now serves as community relations manager, a role that puts her at the centre of staff-resident-family communication. The title matters less to her than the people behind it. She believes that what truly keeps Rosemary Heights going is not just routines or schedules, but the small human moments that connect people, such as shared laughter, honest check-ins, and the simple act of showing up for one another.
Tarn decided that wellness, if it was going to matter, had to include the mind as well as the body. Protecting her peace comes in the form of small, deliberate choices that keep her centred. “Knowing when to step back so I can move forward stronger,” Tarn says, summing up her personal approach.
A recent Working Minds session on mental health helped Tarn see her everyday habits in a new way. The facilitator discussed how simply asking someone how they’re really doing and taking the time to listen can make a significant difference. Tarn left the session feeling sure that small moments like that, done often, could help create a more supportive workplace.
That insight led Tarn to rethink a tired bulletin board near the staff break room. She cleared dusty notices and pinned up calming photos of sunshine, beaches, and warm sand. They added stickers of hearts and butterflies, alongside printed cards listing counselling numbers and peer-support groups. The board is not fancy, but it is intentional.
“It reminds people this is a place where you can breathe,” Tarn says. “Even on the busiest day, you can stand still for thirty seconds to slow down and protect your peace”.
Some changes are harder to measure than others. Tarn spots small ripples, which proves to her that attention to wellness is paying off. Tarn says that the wellness board acts as a gentle reminder “that they’re not alone and that this is a place where people care”.
In a world that often measures success by speed and efficiency, Tarn has learned to value the quiet moments that change everything when someone feels truly seen, heard, and safe to share what is on their mind. That is the heart of Rosemary Heights. It creates a space where healing is genuine, people find strength in being honest, and care reaches deeper.
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