By Kimberly Christenson

In ninth grade, I came home from school and my mom announced that we were moving to Australia. This was in the 90s, an era devoid of instant connection at our fingertips, but even as a very social and admittedly moody teenager, I sensed that I would not want to miss out on this experience. Stepping outside of my sheltered life in Utah and into a place so far from home opened my eyes to other ways of living. My time in Australia carved out a deep place in my heart that will remain with me forever, and I’ve always hoped to facilitate that kind of experience for my own family. 

Anyone who is lucky enough to have lived near an ocean can attest to the way it calls you back after you leave. There’s the lull of the waves, which clinical psychologist Richard Shuster says changes the frequency of our brain waves and puts us into a mild meditative state. There’s also a grounding feeling that comes from being near something so vast. Really, we’re just a drop in the ocean—a small part of a much bigger picture.

The past few years have been a challenge. Between unexpectedly becoming a homeschool teacher, the growing pains of merging my journaling business with another company in 2020, and health issues, among other things, I craved the chance to pick up my family and get away from it all. I wanted to step away from the usual trappings of our lives that were starting to feel suffocating and experience something else. A fresh start. A release of pressure. And the calming powers of the ocean. 

After many months of planning, we booked a 5-week family sabbatical to Florida in November of 2022. The minimal time difference would allow us to work remotely and make it easy for our kids to participate in virtual school. So, we asked neighbors and family members to look after our home and our pets, and flew away. 

Once we landed, we learned that the home we booked for our entire stay became unavailable. So, we drove six hours north to another area I’d wanted to visit: a strip of the panhandle along State Road 30A. What felt like a whim at the time turned out to be serendipity. The area we would have stayed in was hit by a hurricane days after we drove away from it, and our adventure would’ve included high winds, tornado warnings, and evacuation. Instead, we were able to enjoy a peaceful time on the Emerald Coast with quaint communities and pristine beaches that rivaled the ones I’ve seen in Hawaii and Australia.

We spent hours at the beach in the powdery sand and clear water while our family and friends back in Utah lamented the dark skies and 30-degree weather. Aside from the sun-soaking and family time that comes with a good trip, I noticed a shift in my kids. With no friends’ houses to run off to and no game consoles to distract them, they started playing with each other more. They became better friends. 

Child psychotherapist Dr. Margot Sunderland says, “An enriched environment offers new experiences that are strong in combined social, physical, cognitive, and sensory interaction. Think: family together in the pool, walking together through the forest, touching long tall grasses waving in the wind, toasting marshmallows on campfire, hanging out together under warm sun, feeling sand between the toes."

Those experiences, Dr. Sutherland says, improve stress regulation, attention, concentration, learning, and physical and mental health. "The brain fertilizers triggered in enriched environments are also associated with higher IQ in children," she said. "So, spend time exploring together in a new space, and you're making your child smarter."

But my kids weren’t the only ones getting major benefits from our time away. I noticed a shift in myself too. With the new environment and removal of some of my usual routines, distractions, and expectations, I felt happier. Freer. I became more present with my kids and my husband, and I tuned into my own desires, hopes, and beliefs instead of getting carried away by the hundreds of others in my usual life. 

On Thanksgiving, we booked a buffet at a farm-to-table restaurant by the sea and enjoyed a delicious dinner as a family of five, with no dishes to clean up or family gatherings to juggle. Over the next few weeks, we saw giant wreaths go up, lights strung on trees, and even a “Santa on vacation” on the beach. But we didn’t feel the usual pressure of checking off our Christmas lists. Part of that was the denial that Christmas couldn’t possibly be so close if there were palm trees and 80-degree days. But we also felt a loss of interest in the usual holiday consumption. We were already living our dream. We felt full of everything we wanted. And it wasn’t something we could hold in our hands. 

We spent our days much like we do at home—working, exercising, doing schoolwork, cooking, and cleaning—but with an added thread of togetherness against a beach backdrop. We felt unrushed, because it wasn’t a five-day vacation with an urgency to fit everything in. Whenever we had an amazing experience, like watching the sky turn cotton-candy blue and pink at sunset, the joy continued because we knew we still had plenty of time left in this place we loved.

Allowing that slowness to permeate our days healed deep parts of me that were tensed up for years. As the end to our time away drew closer, instead of feeling dread, I had the sense that this experience would carry me through the coming months and years, as experiences like this often do. 

In a Huffington Post interview, John McDonald, director of the Family Holiday Association, said "Reflecting on our happiest memories of joyful time spent together as a family can be extremely powerful in bringing relief and respite when faced with the darker times that life can bring. By using these memories as an anchor to take us back to more cheerful moments, we're often able to approach problems with a fresh sense of perspective."

Allowing that slowness to permeate our days healed deep parts of me that were tensed up for years.

Returning amid the holidays was both cheerful and stressful. In some ways, returning to the familiar walls of our home felt more comforting and restorative than I anticipated. Even the cold, white swaddle of winter carried its own sense of enchantment. But I had moments when I’d tear up over leaving the sunshine, ocean, and freedom of our time in Florida behind. 

However, I can take the closeness we felt as a family there and encourage it to continue here. I can keep the ritual of my quiet early mornings with my tea, my book, and my journal I savored there. We can keep going outside and being active. In overwhelming moments, I can look at the tiny ceramic cloud I bought at my favorite spot that says “Everything will be okay” and remember to let lightness and joy in. 

Our family adventure will carve another deep place inside me that I get to keep forever, an anchor of joy that will steady me and my family through challenges. 

Here are some ways I’ve learned to savor a special trip long after it ends: 

Set intentions for your experience 

Write down your hopes and goals for your time away, however simple. Although we can’t control everything that happens on an adventure (nor do we want to), we can be thoughtful about the way we show up in it. 

Journal while you’re there

While you’re on your trip, write down the details of your experience. Not for social media or anyone else—just for you. Write not only events that happen, but the internal nature of them and how they made you feel. If you’re with kids, encourage them to do the same.  

Ground yourself in memorable moments

When you’re standing in a moment you never want to forget, connect to all of your senses. This will help you feel the experience more deeply and recall it more readily. 

Gather meaningful mementos

Take thoughtful pictures and videos then do something with them beyond posting to social media. Compile them in an album or video and return to them at home to remind you of those peaceful moments. You might also find a small memento of your trip and put it in a place where you’ll see it every day to help you access the joy that experience brought.  

Reflect when you return

Write down the things you want to carry from your experience into your life moving forward. 

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Kimberly Christenson is a self-proclaimed bibliotherapist at Talk Wordy to Me and mother of three in Lehi, Utah. Her writing has appeared in Scary Mommy, No Sidebar, and Utah Valley Magazine. She’s a student in Lesley University’s MFA for creative writing and is working on her third novel.