Finding Myself, Again

Without running away. Let me explain.

Arriving back in Norway felt like taking my first full breath in weeks. After everything that happened with our car saga (yes... three cars. We bought three. The first two turned into expensive life lessons. One day I'll tell that story properly because, honestly, if I didn't laugh about it now, I'd probably still be crying), simply pulling into a place that feels familiar and like home settled something inside me.

Breathing through lots of emotions during our expensive life lessons. Previous Blog showed car #1, here are two and three=AKA the final one!

Seeing familiar faces again. Watching the kids instantly reconnect. Breathing in the forest air and enjoying the silence of nature at night. Although night is kind of a misnomer with how bright it is here! It never really gets dark. The sun does go down and sets, but then after a few hours it's up again... so no beautiful starry night sky. But I digress.

Us on the ferry to Norway. I think it took me until this point to really believe we would make it after our disaster travel day a few weeks before.

Finally arriving here felt like inhaling after holding my breath for far too long. As many of you know, we came here already once as Workawayers. Now we're back to help for a whole season- there are occasional events or retreats we can help out at, some renovations my husband is happy and skilled at doing- as well as just a huge piece of land that need lots of love and care. We're already helped at one retreat weekend. Over the summer solstice. I had the privilege of helping behind the scenes while also getting to participate in many of the sessions myself.

Every retreat seems to teach me something new. This one held up a mirror.

I've noticed something about myself over the years. Whenever we come to places we love, or I start a new job or join anything new in any way really—places and positions full of purpose, beautiful people, meaningful work—I have a tendency to... give. A lot. I see things that need doing. I want to help. I genuinely enjoy helping. Before I know it, I'm organizing, cleaning, fixing, coaching, encouraging, carrying things, planning things...And somewhere in all of that, I quietly disappear. And so does what should be our free time or valuable time with the kids.

Not dramatically. Just... gradually.

This retreat reminded me that even beautiful work can pull me away from the people I love most—and from myself—if I'm not paying attention. It's easy to think, "We'll go hiking tomorrow." "We'll set up the archery target later." "We'll make time for that family trip next week."

The adventures we have made time for so far... forest walks, exploring a nearby harbor and old town.

Those little moments don't seem urgent. Until weeks have passed. The funny thing is, setting up our bows and arrows doesn't take hours. Going for a walk with the kids doesn't require perfect planning (Although we're good at that- over analyzing every detail and maybe somehow not doing it because of some reason that doesn't really matter in the end!). Sitting quietly with a cup of tea while watching the wind flow through the trees or playing games with the kids- those moments don't need permission from anyone.

Those tiny moments are often the very reason we chose this life in the first place. At some point during one of the retreat sessions I had a surprisingly emotional realization. I need to stay connected to myself. And my wishes and dreams.

Not just my responsibilities. Not just my roles. Not just being "Mom," "Coach," "Volunteer," or "Helpful Stacy." But me. That sounds obvious when you read it. It wasn't obvious when I felt it. It came up hard and quick. Someone asked a simple question about wishes and dreams. And I realized... I still sometimes struggle to know what mine actually are.

I've been thinking a lot lately about how school shaped me. School taught me many valuable things. Gave me good friendships. But it also trained me to constantly look outside myself. Where should I be? What should I do? When should I do it? Who's grading me? What's expected of me? Sure, every now and then someone asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. But very rarely did anyone ask:

What lights you up?

What feels meaningful to you?

What does your heart quietly keep whispering?

Maybe that's why self-direction still feels like something I'm practicing instead of something that comes naturally. Maybe that's why I wanted something different for my kids, and they get to decide what they learn and when they learn it.

It's one of the reasons I became so grateful when I discovered HeartMath years ago. For the first time, someone taught me that slowing down isn't wasting time. Breathing intentionally isn't "doing nothing." Meditation isn't escaping life. It's coming back to it. Back to yourself. Back to the quiet wisdom that's always been there underneath the noise. And slowly and gradually beginning to access the wisdom and intuition we hold in our bodies. Not just the thoughts that pop up in our minds.

The boys enjoying the quad- me enjoying a nearby beach... and the tipi they sometimes use for events.

I won't pretend I've mastered it. Actually... this retreat reminded me how much work I still have to do. And strangely, that feels encouraging. I'm no closer to enlightenment than I was last month. I doubt I'll stumble into nirvana sometime next Tuesday. But I am getting better at noticing. Noticing when I'm rushing. Noticing when I've drifted away from myself. Taking a breath. Naming what's actually happening instead of pretending everything's fine. And coming back to center. Again. And again.

Maybe that's all any of us are really doing. Not becoming perfect. Just becoming a little more present. A little more honest. A little more ourselves.

So today I'm feeling incredibly grateful. Grateful for this work. Grateful for this retreat. Grateful for our crazy family adventures—even the expensive car disasters. Grateful for the support of family through said disasters. Grateful for mountains, forests, meaningful conversations, campfires, kids asking for "just one more game," and quiet mornings with sunshine (that's already been shining well before I've gotten up).

Grateful we (literally yesterday) set up the target and got our bows out. They travel well!

Mostly, I'm grateful that I get to share this journey with all of you. If this reflection resonates with you, I talk much more openly about similar realizations in this week's podcast episode from Suzy May. It was recorded right in the middle of our car disaster- and I share a breathing technique that I use almost every day to stay regulated.

🎙️ Listen to the podcast here: 

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@suzymay.wander

Podcast website: https://www.wanderworldschool.com/

Otherwise we're planning a Worldschool Hub here in August, and I'm super busy planning that. And if you'd like to keep following our adventures, our family life, and the sometimes messy journey of learning resilience one breath at a time, I'd love to have you over on Instagram too. @resiliencewithstacy

We're all just figuring it out together.