I’ve been thinking lately about the moments that quietly shape us—the ones we don’t recognize as turning points until much later. For me, one of those moments happened nearly twenty years ago, when I quit nursing school after just two days. Not out of fear or failure, but because something deep in my body whispered, This isn’t your path.
The bright lights, the sitting, the constant protocols—my right side literally started to coil inward. I felt myself shrinking in a way that didn’t feel like me. It was the first time I felt a split between the life laid out in front of me and the life I could choose if I was brave enough.
When the Body Speaks, Listen
I kept trying to force school to work. A semester here. A year there. Always ending with a resigned, Maybe next term will feel better. Maybe I just need residency.
But the truth always returned stronger: my body craved movement, curiosity, freedom.
When I finally stopped resisting and started listening, everything opened.
In my last school experience, I left with a bang – after only two days into nursing school, I quit and let nature, adventure, and motion be my teachers. Curiosity became my compass. Every trail, every job, every new challenge was another corner I needed to see around.
Stepping into the unknown didn’t just change my path. It became the foundation of who I am.
Twenty Years Later: The Same Instinct, But With Higher Stakes
Now, almost twenty years later, I’m realizing I’m living that same choice again—this time with my boys.
Sending them to school, even an incredible Forest School, was the “known path.”
Predictable. Structured. Familiar.
Six hours away each day, shaped by rhythms we didn’t choose and adults whose imprint would inevitably shape their inner world. In those hours I no doubt claimed more free time, more quiet and more order.
But again, my body whispered:
Not this. Not here.
Choosing the Unknown (Again)
I kept circling back to the same question:
How would it feel to have them home with us—learning alongside us, moving with us, growing more connected through all the big and messy emotions?
The unknown started to feel less like a risk and more like an invitation.
So we chose homeschooling.
Not because it was easier (spoiler: it’s not).
But because it felt truer.
The Mirror of Curiosity
Now I watch my boys—asking questions nonstop, tinkering, exploring, following their fascinations—and it’s like looking at a younger version of myself.
Their curiosity is wild and unfiltered.
Their learning is embodied.
Their wonder is alive.
And in those moments, I sit back and smile.
They are my mirror.
A beautiful reminder of why we chose this path in the first place:
because curiosity—when nurtured—builds whole humans.
This is the root system of everything I live and share:
Trust your body.
Follow the tug.
Choose the path with the most oxygen—even when it breaks every rule on paper.
Sometimes the bravest thing we can do is let the map go and walk toward what feels alive.