The Plane I Almost Didn't Board

Two months ago, I almost didn't get on a plane to Greece.

I know it sounds crazy. It wasn’t because I didn't want to go. Greece had been on my bucket list for years. But life had become so overwhelming that taking a week away for myself felt selfish and wrong.

Back then everything seemed uncertain.

The family had decided it was time to move. Colorado had lost its shine. Between experiences of discrimination, concerns about our son's sports career, the dry climate, and simply wanting a fresh start somewhere else we desired something different. We just didn’t know where.

At the same time, after nearly a year of conversations, I had finally landed a speaking engagement with Nike. It was a huge opportunity, and I was putting an enormous amount of pressure on myself to get everything right.

Then there was Greece.

I had committed to an intuition retreat six months earlier. It was something I was doing for myself and my business, but all I could think about was what I was leaving behind. Our son lacrosse team was headed to state playoffs. We were preparing to privately list our house, and my partner was left carrying everything while I was gone.

Instead of feeling excited, I felt guilty.

Our evenings were spent painting walls, packing boxes, creating spreadsheets comparing schools, and asking ourselves questions we couldn't answer. If the house didn't sell quickly, could we afford both a mortgage and rent? Would we be able to move before our son's junior year? Every answer seemed to lead to another unknown. I desperately asked my intuition for guidance, but I was so consumed with worry, I couldn't hear anything.

When it was time to leave, I packed my suitcase without much thought. I talked more about the long flight than the beauty of Greece. When I focused on the negatives it made me somehow feel less guilty about going. Then my partner and I hit a rough patch right before I left. Honestly, I contemplated not going.

The flight to Athens was a blur. I don't remember feeling excited once. Then I landed. At customs, I waited for my suitcase. Everyone else grabbed their bags. Mine never appeared. The airline receipt said it was checked through to Samos. Customs insisted I needed to collect it.

Panic set in.

People were literally speaking Greek around me. I suddenly realized I hadn't prepared for this trip at all. Normally I know where I'm going and I try learning a few phrases. I pride myself on not looking like an “American tourist.”

This time, I had done none of that. Standing there, I had a choice. I could continue freaking out, or I could remember who I was.

Capable.

Resourceful.

Confident.

I pulled up my big girl pants, found airport staff who could help me and confirmed that in fact my luggage had been checked all the way to Samos. I made it through customs, exchanged some money, found my next gate, and for the first time all week, I exhaled.

The retreat itself was unlike anything I had experienced before. It brought together women from different backgrounds who were all growing or transitioning their businesses and trying to listen more deeply to themselves. The work was vulnerable. At times uncomfortable and very emotional.

But it wasn't all work. There was swimming in the Mediterranean, wandering through small villages, eating fresh feta and olives, shopping in little stores, laughing with women who had been strangers only days before.

Somewhere between the conversations and the quiet moments overlooking the water, I felt myself open. My shoulders lowered and I began to feel more like myself. I could hear my intuition, and I realized how long it had been since I had allowed myself to simply enjoy where I was instead of worrying about what came next.

Every evening I checked in with my family. My partner and I had some tough conversations. They weren't easy, but they were honest. I knew things wouldn't be the same when I returned home. And that was okay.

When I got home, I noticed something had shifted. Not dramatically. But enough. My thinking felt clearer. I trusted my intuition more. Ideas that had been sitting on the shelf for months suddenly felt possible again. One of the biggest lessons surprised me.

Play matters.

I used to think stepping away from work meant I wasn't being productive. Instead, I discovered that giving myself space actually expanded my thinking. Without the constant pressure of everyday responsibilities, I could hear myself again.

Life, of course, was waiting when I got back.

Our son's team lost in the first round of the playoffs, so thankfully I didn't miss his final game. My partner and I kept working through what had surfaced while I was away. Those conversations helped us recognize just how much negativity had been shaping our experience in Colorado. Somewhere along the way, we had slipped into believing we were stuck.

The house went on the market. Weeks passed and no interest. There were a lot of homes on the market in and surrounding our neighborhood that had been sitting for months. Eventually, we had to ask ourselves a hard question.

Do we keep chasing a move that may not happen, or do we commit to being fully present where we are? As a family, we voted and the decision was unanimous.

We were staying.

The funny thing was, the moment we made the decision, everything felt lighter. Our shoulders relaxed. Things changed in our son’s sports situation for the positive. Hope returned.

Then came Nike.

I practiced that speech for weeks. I rehearsed in front of mirrors and delivered sections at Toastmasters. Once on stage halfway through the speech my mind went completely blank. I couldn’t remember a thing. I looked at my notes but couldn't even read them. Then I felt the quiet nudge that had resurfaced while in Greece. My intuition told me to trust. And I did.

I stopped trying to remember every word and simply spoke.

Afterward, people told me the speech was impactful. Several said they wished friends could have heard it because they needed the message. Was it perfect?

Not even close.

Did it accomplish what I wanted it to?

Definitely.

Looking back now, I can see that the transformation didn't begin when I got home. It began the day I decided to get on that plane.

I thought taking a week for myself meant I was taking something away from my family. Instead, I came home renewed. More patience, creativity, more peace, and a stronger relationship with my partner. We communicate differently now. We remind each other when old thinking starts creeping back in. We celebrate the good instead of focusing on what's missing.

Even putting our house on the market turned out to be a gift. It forced us to clean out years of clutter and let go of things we no longer needed. In more ways than one, we made room for something new.

Through my writing and speaking I spend a lot of time encouraging people not to wait for someone else to give them permission. This experience reminded me how hard it can be. Giving yourself what you need can feel scary. It can feel selfish. Other people may not understand it at first. But when your cup is full, everyone around you benefits.

So, give yourself permission.

Trust yourself.

Fill your cup first.

You might discover that what felt like it was only for you was exactly what the people you love needed, too.