If you saw me this week, you might have noticed my t-shirt. It says “Booktrovert.” It’s a cute play on words for someone who can talk endlessly about books but otherwise doesn’t totally love social interaction.

I bought it in a bookstore in Minneapolis, right before we moved here. I was trying to “sell” this new city to my youngest son before we uprooted his life. But the truth is, lately, I’ve been trying to sell it to myself, too.

This season of my life is what I call “The Weeds.” I recently emptied my nest, sending my last child off to college, and simultaneously moved that nest halfway across the country from New Jersey to Minnesota.

I am currently deep in the muck of figuring out: Who am I here?

Who am I now that I don’t have the day-to-day job of mothering? Who am I in a place where I have to use GPS just to get to the grocery store?.

If you are in a season of transition—whether it’s an empty nest, a move, or just a shift in your identity—you might be doing exactly what I did: trying to replicate the past to comfort the present.

The Tale of Two Gym Classes

I learned a hard lesson this week about finding wonder, and it happened at the gym.

I tried to go back to a Yin Yoga class—a practice I adored back in New Jersey. In my old life, it was like a warm bath: dark room, essential oils, a teacher with a whispery voice. It was divine.

I walked into the class here in my new city expecting that same feeling. I wanted it to make me feel less homesick. instead, there was a light shining in my face, the room was different, and the teacher was different. It didn’t fix my sadness. In fact, it made me miss my old life even more because I was trying to replicate an experience I had left behind.

Then, there was Pilates.

I went into a new Pilates class here with zero expectations. I assumed I wouldn’t like it because I missed my old teacher, Melissa, so much. But because I wasn’t trying to force it to be “familiar,” I was able to actually enjoy it. It wasn’t the same, but it was good.

Stop Curating, Start Finding

Here is the truth about finding “wonder in the weeds”: You cannot curate it based on the past.

When we try to recreate exactly what we lost, we set ourselves up for disappointment. We can’t ignore the changes or the grief. We can’t pretend the weeds aren’t there.

But we can recalibrate our expectations.

We can stop looking for the old version of comfort and start looking for the new version of adventure. The secret isn’t creating the perfect moment; it’s the choice to look for the good that is already there, even if it looks different than it used to.

I’m still lost sometimes. I still miss my people. But I’m learning that if I stop trying to replicate New Jersey in Minnesota, I might just find that I can be happy here, too.

---

Need a Safe Place to Land?

I remember when being online felt good—when it was about community, not algorithms and drama.

That is exactly what I am trying to bring back. If you are navigating the weeds of life, whether it’s grief, change, or just the messiness of being human, you don’t have to do it alone.

The Women of Wonder Community is a safe place to say the quiet stuff out loud, free from judgment. It is women helping women, offering continuous support, resources, and laughter.

We would love to have you with us.

➡️ Join Our Community: https://wonder.myflodesk.com/womenofwonder