When You Finally Make Space for Yourself

Have you ever felt like you’ve just had enough?That this was the last drop, and you just want to pack your things and go somewhere you can finally breathe?Somewhere you will be heard, where what you want actually matters, and where you don’t have to subordinate every part of yourself to your family?

And how many times have you actually done it?Do you even know where you would go in those moments?

Well, in 2025, I found a place like this—three times.

I am a mother of two preschool boys, living as an expat in the Czech Republic. I wouldn’t trade this life for anything, but it hasn’t always felt this way. Over the past few years, motherhood has taken a huge mental and emotional toll on me. After five years, I felt I had to relearn how to make space for myself in my own life. I had no idea this would be almost as difficult and turbulent a transformation as becoming a mother in the first place.

By 2025, going on a retreat—whatever that meant—had made it onto my bucket list. What I really longed for was to be alone with myself, to finally hear my own thoughts again, and to have a little time to figure out what might help me feel more at ease within myself.

So one night in May, I suddenly found myself in a forest near Brno with twelve other women I had not even known two days earlier. There we were, stumbling through the dark, holding on to each other, laughing at ourselves, and making our way to a ceremony by the creek.

During those few days, we shared far more than just our stories. We spoke about old, long-forgotten pains and newly resurfaced ones, about fears we had kept quiet, doubts we had pushed down, and—most of all—our desires, the ones we sometimes didn’t even dare to admit to ourselves. A kind of trust formed between us so naturally that I instinctively knew: these women would not turn my vulnerability against me; they would never exploit my openness.

When open-hearted women truly listen to each other—without interruption and with respect for each other’s rhythm—the words spoken begin to circulate in a space where they are genuinely received. Even if no immediate solution appears, something shifts inside you. The feelings, once expressed and held, start to move. And from that movement, clearer questions and more grounded starting points emerge, making everyday life easier to navigate.

During our final gathering, many of us wondered: will we ever meet again like this?

But I don’t think that is the right question.

Motherhood—and life itself—is a kind of labyrinth. Along the way, we lose some connections, while others remain. And it will not be any different this time. But what we received during those weekends does not have to disappear—unless we let it.

The self-love we practiced, the creativity we reawakened, the courage to no longer feel ashamed of our dreams, and most importantly, the recognition of our own place within our communities—these can stay with us.

Whether that community is our family or a wider circle, we belong to it in our own way. And that is exactly how it should be.

This is what these retreat weekends taught me.And I know I will always look back on this time with gratitude.