and What Happens When We Step Away Together
If you caught Part 1 of this series (you can find it here), you know that a simple hot-air-balloon ride in France reminded me how stepping away can bring clarity.
But clarity is just the beginning.
After that trip, I realized that how we rest, and who we rest with, matters just as much as taking the break itself.
In my past career as an interior designer, it was my job to create beautiful, balanced spaces that uniquely reflected my clients: their families, passions, and stories.
And you know what every single design included? Negative space.
The space around things is what gives them balance. That pause is where the beauty lives.
It’s the same with our lives. We need breathing room (space around the edges) or everything starts to collapse. When there’s no margin, it just becomes clutter. Suddenly your beautiful life looks like that one junk drawer we all pretend we don’t have.
So, what’s your version of rest that actually restores you — not the one that still looks productive, but the one that heals you?
For me, it’s travel. For you, it might be gardening, reading, or painting.
Whatever it is, that’s not a luxury. It’s required maintenance if you want to stay successful and sane.
Lesson 3 — Growth Happens When We Step Away Together
Growth doesn’t just happen when we go somewhere new. It happens when we go together with intention.
One of my favorite things about travel is watching what happens between people on a shared adventure. You start the trip as coworkers, friends, or family… and you come home different. The laughter, the missteps, the “wait, did we just order snails?” moments; those are the memories that stitch us closer together.
We see each other in new ways when the Wi-Fi’s weak and the scenery’s strong.
Connection is one of the most restorative forces we have. It pulls us out of our roles; the fixer, the doer, the scheduler, and back into simply being humans exploring together.
Travel stretches us, but it also softens us. It teaches us that growth doesn’t require solitude. In fact, sometimes, it requires company.
Think about the last time you truly felt restored. Where were you? What were you doing? Who were you with?
That feeling—that sense of peace or joy or freedom—is your compass. It’s what you’re craving more of. And you don’t have to wait for burnout to give yourself permission to feel it again.
When we step away, we don’t lose anything.
In fact, we actually find the version of ourselves we’ve been too busy to notice.