Some days, everything feels too loud.

The toddler’s crying. My joints ache. I’ve already hit my sensory limit by noon, and we haven’t even left the house. I want to cancel the whole day — just crawl into bed and try again tomorrow. But I’ve learned something, over and over again:

If I can just get myself outside for 20 minutes… something shifts.

And it turns out, there’s real science behind that shift. A 2019 study published in Frontiers in Psychology found that spending just 20 minutes in nature significantly reduces stress hormone levels like cortisol — especially when it’s unstructured time, like sitting or walking outdoors without distractions.
(Source: Hunter et al., 2019 — https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2019.00722)

It doesn’t have to be hiking a mountain. Just being outside helps your nervous system breathe.

The air hits different. My body still hurts, but it’s not the only thing I can feel anymore. The breeze, the birds, the sound of my kids laughing — it starts to override the static in my brain.

After about 20 minutes outside, something shifts in all of us.

Royce, who had been fussing nonstop inside, settles. He whines less. The breeze distracts him, the grass under his feet gives him something new to explore. He becomes curious again — playful instead of overwhelmed.

Channing, my sensory-avoider who sometimes hides under a blanket when indoors gets too loud, comes alive out here. He might be skateboarding down the sidewalk, poking things with sticks, or chopping kindling with his hatchet like a miniature woodsman. Nature gives him space to move, to regulate, to just be.

Raeleigh finds her own rhythm outside, too. Sometimes she explores on her own, other times she and Sylas pair up for little adventures — walking trails, collecting wildflowers, talking quietly by the water. Out here, there’s no pressure to be anything but herself. She thrives in that.

Once the campsite is set up and we can finally sit down and relax, my whole spirit shifts.

I’m not thinking about the two loads of laundry waiting to be folded at home. I’m not stressing about what didn’t get done. My body still aches — that part never really goes away — but it’s quieter out here. The trees rustle. The fire crackles. My kids laugh in the background.

My body’s limits have changed, and I’m no longer able to hike the trails with the kids or explore the caves like I used to. But I can hold down the campsite. I can organize meals. I can plan other outings I can be included in nearby. And in doing that, I’m still at the heart of our family adventures — just in a different way than before.

One activity I enjoy while camping is sitting at the picnic table drawing or painting while my family engages in their own activities around me. Art brings me peace, so making nature-inspired art outdoors is especially calming. It’s a quiet way for me to be part of the moment—grounded, present, and at ease in a way I can’t always access indoors.

And somehow, I’m able to focus on what’s right in front of me: nature, my family, the way the sky turns gold just before sunset. That focus doesn’t erase the pain, but it helps me push through it. It reminds me that there’s still joy to be had. Still memories to be made.

This is why we keep going outside, even on the hard days.

Because that first 20 minutes? That’s when the noise starts to quiet. When we each begin to settle into ourselves. When the pressure to “do it all” lifts just enough for us to breathe.

It’s not magic — it’s movement, fresh air, a little sunlight on our faces. It’s watching my kids play without schedules or expectations. It’s remembering that healing doesn’t just happen in appointments or treatments — sometimes, it happens in the woods, by the water, or around a fire.

This is where we reconnect.
With each other.
With our bodies.
With the world around us.

And every time we get there — even if it takes effort, even if we have to rest afterward — it’s worth it.

🌿❤️ Mimi