How Stepping Away Creates Clarity
A few years ago, I found myself in a season where I was hanging on by my fingernails—unsure if I was succeeding or even really surviving.
At the time, I was a partner in an interior design firm, juggling projects, managing remodels, solving crises, and trying to look like I had it all together.
Spoiler alert: I did not, in fact, have it together.
By 2021, I was done.
Not “I need a nap” done. I mean “maybe I’ll fake my own death and move to Tuscany” done.
Our design firm had survived the shutdowns, but it nearly broke me. We were slammed with remodels, our business identity got stolen; it was chaos. Everything felt rigid, out of control, and joyless.
So when the world cracked open again, my husband Todd and I said, we’re going somewhere. We had planned a safari, but much of Africa was still closed. France, however, said, “Come on in! Bring your masks and your paperwork.” So we went.
And it was glorious: tiny towns, broken French, lots of carbs (and butter!).
People were kind everywhere we went, and I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed connecting with strangers until we were doing it again.
Then came the hot-air-balloon ride.
I did it to push my boundaries and face my fear of heights. Turns out it is, indeed, somewhat terrifying. I was scared of heights, didn’t know how to climb into the basket gracefully, and deeply regretted every croissant.
But once we lifted off, everything got... quiet.
We moved with the speed of the wind, so it felt like the world was simply drifting beneath us.
I remember thinking, a past version of me would have said no to this.
That was the shift. I realized I could choose brave things. Little ones, big ones, the kind that bring you back to life.
When I got home, I started changing how I worked, how I led, and eventually, the kind of life I wanted to design next.
And since then, I’ve learned that every time we step away with intention, something powerful happens.
It’s wild, right? How I had to literally float hundreds of feet in the air just to finally feel grounded.
But that’s the thing; the only way to see things clearly is to step back from them.
We often think clarity comes from doing more: one more email, one more spreadsheet, one more to-do list color-coded within an inch of its life. But it doesn’t.
Clarity comes from distance.
When you’re standing in the middle of the noise; the remodel dust, the pings, the constant “we need you!”, everything feels urgent and equally loud.
Step away for even a little while, and the noise settles. You start to notice what actually matters.
That’s what travel does for me, and for a lot of my clients. It’s not about the miles; it’s about the space it creates.
The space to remember who you are and what really deserves your energy.
Coming Up Next
In two weeks, I’ll share what happened after that moment, why rest isn’t lazy, how we find balance, and what happens when we step away together.
Now published, here.