On a recent trip, we were on the road—our spontaneous camping adventure along the east coast.
There was laughter.
Cold ocean water we refused to swim in.
Fresh clam strips eaten by the seaside.
It was good.
And then, a few days in, I could feel it creeping in.
That familiar edge of anxiety.
As much as I loved the freedom of the trip, I found myself missing my usual rhythm.
My morning walks.
My journaling time.
The quiet consistency that fuels both my days and my work.
And just as I was trying to push through that unsettled feeling…
Our truck’s computer system glitched.
About 1200 km from home.
Which, as you can imagine, didn’t exactly calm my nervous system.
After a six-hour delay at a dealership, we eventually made it to our campsite in New York.
It was beautiful.
We stood there just before sunset—though “sunset” is generous. It was really just a small break in the rain clouds while we stood under umbrellas, tired and damp, trying to find something good in the day.
And somehow… we did.
Since then, it’s been a blur.
Laundry. Catching up.
A backyard fire with our kids.
A long weekend at the beach.
And now I’m sitting here, looking at my calendar…, trying to piece everything back together.
School plans.
Appointments.
Business goals.
Amazon orders.
And a sister trip I’ve been looking forward to for a year, coming up soon.
Here’s what I’ve been noticing underneath all of it:
I had a really good time.
And I feel anxious about getting back on track.
Both are true.
For a long time, I would have thought something was off.
That I should just feel grateful.
Or just feel excited.
Or just get organized and move on.
But that’s not actually how it works.
Maybe we don’t have to choose.
Maybe it’s not joy or overwhelm.
Rest or responsibility.
Maybe it’s both.
Joy and anxiety can live side by side.
You can have a meaningful, fun experience… and still feel unsettled stepping back into real life.
You can feel grateful and overwhelmed.
Calm one moment and anxious the next.
It doesn’t mean anything has gone wrong.
It just means you’re human.
These days, instead of trying to fix that feeling right away, I find myself asking a different question:
Where can I anchor myself today?
Not everything.
Just one thing.
A walk.
A few quiet minutes with my journal.
Looking at the week ahead without trying to solve all of it at once.
Something small that brings me back to myself.
Later that night, after that long, frustrating travel day, we were racing to make it to our campsite before the gates closed.
It was raining (of course), and we set up the tent in a rush.
Not exactly the peaceful evening we had imagined.
But then my husband pulled together the most unexpected setup—
A laptop balanced on an air mattress.
Leftover cheesecake.
A glass of red wine.
And somehow, we ended up watching A Fistful of Dollars in the middle of a rainstorm.
It wasn’t perfect.
But it was exactly what we needed.
So if you’re in a season where things feel a little mixed…
Where there’s good and messy, calm and anxious, all at the same time—
You’re not doing it wrong.
You’re just holding more than one thing at once.
