Overpacked, Overprepared, and Learning to Let Go

Let me tell you a secret: I am still not a minimalist.

I know—I run transformational retreats, preach the power of presence, and wax poetic about letting go. And yet, there I am, sitting on my suitcase in a busy Moroccan alley, whispering to the zipper like a prayer: please, just one more inch - I need to get these dishes I just bought home.

Because while I believe in travelling light… I also believe in being prepared for anything.

From the blazing sun of the Aegean to the chilly nights on the Botswana savannah, my journeys often span countries, continents, and climates. I’m not away for a long weekend—I’m often gone for a month. Sometimes two.

So yes, I bring the layers.

The sandals and the boots.

The swimsuit and the fleece.

Also: the supplements.

The protein powder.

The magnesium.

The turmeric capsules that make me feel like I have my life together.

And of course, the skincare—because no matter where I am in the world, I like to arrive moisturized.

But here’s what I’ve learned: even when my bag is heavy, I’m practicing something deeper. Not the art of perfect packing, but the art of asking better questions.

Not “Did I bring the right shoes?”

But “What weight am I willing to carry?”

Because it’s never just the clothes. It’s the need to be ready. To be good. To be enough.

And each time I lay another item on the bed, I get the chance to pause and ask—do I really need this?

Not just the scarf or the serum, but the pressure. The proving. The performance.

What if I could lay that down too?

Travel has a way of stripping us bare. It teaches us not through comfort, but through contrast. Through the missing thing that we realize we never really needed. Through the quiet moment when we’re finally still enough to feel what’s underneath the planning, the packing, the push.

That’s why I do this work. That’s why Grit & Grace Adventures exists. Not to help you escape your life, but to invite you back into it. More honest. More whole. Less encumbered.

So no, I may never be the woman with just a carry-on and a linen dress that miraculously suits every occasion.

I’ll still bring my vitamins. I’ll probably overpack my heart too.

But I’m learning. Slowly.

That belonging isn’t about arriving perfectly styled.

It’s about showing up fully.

That the real transformation doesn’t come from what we bring—

But from what we’re brave enough to leave behind.

And that maybe, just maybe, the less we carry, the more we can receive.

So here’s to the women with a little extra in their bags.

Those who travel far, feel deeply, and are willing to unbecome what no longer fits—

even if the suitcase still barely closes.

In Adventure and friendship

Penny

PS So much of what we carry—on our backs, in our hearts, through our days—goes unnoticed until we pause long enough to ask: Do I still need this?

Travel has a way of stripping away what no longer serves. But you don’t have to get on a plane to begin that process. The journey inward starts with awareness, honesty, and the courage to look at what you’ve been holding onto.

If you feel called, pour a cup of tea, take a breath, and explore these four journal prompts below. There’s no right answer—just a space to unpack, reflect, and maybe, slowly… begin to carry less. If any of this stirred something in you—an aha, a memory, a laugh, or a quiet truth—I’d love to hear it.

Feel free to hit reply and share your reflections, or drop a comment and let’s keep the conversation going. I truly believe our stories are lighter when we carry them together.

(And yes, fellow overpackers—you’re always welcome here.)

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For the Woman Learning to Carry Less

Journal Prompts for the Journey Inward

1. What am I still carrying that no longer feels like mine to hold?

   (A belief, an expectation, a version of myself I’ve outgrown…)

   
   

2. Where in my life am I over-preparing out of fear—rather than trusting I’ll know what to do when I get there?

   
   

3. What might have room to enter if I left space—in my suitcase, in my schedule, in my spirit?

   
   

4. What would it mean to belong—not by fitting in, but by showing up unfinished, honest, and whole? Where in my life do I feel safe enough to do that?