From Shelter to Seven Continents: What Antarctica Taught Me About Rest and Writing

By Lizbeth Meredith

When friends asked what I was most looking forward to about traveling to Antarctica, my answer surprised them. It was not just the penguins or the glaciers or the thrill of finally reaching the seventh continent. It wasn’t simply about making good on a promise to myself to see all the continents.

It was what I would not be doing.

No cooking. No phone. No laundry. No constant emails. No racing from one obligation to the next.

I had just finished a semester of teaching college courses to help pay for the trip, wrapped up a semi-final season of my podcast, and shepherded the publication of Unmapped: Solo Women Travelers – Bold Journeys of Healing, Resilience, and Self-Discovery.

For the first time in a long while, I made a deliberate decision to greenlight rest. Traveling from a past that once included time in a shelter and never included child support or family help with my kids, to standing on the deck of a ship bound for Antarctica felt like a quiet full circle. What I did not realize then was how profoundly stepping away would reshape the way I think about writing.

It took me ages to save for the trip, which included Antarctica and some wonderful stops along the way. And it was my joy not to purchase a data package for the cruise portion.

I had fallen into the familiar habit of doom scrolling, spending more time online than I cared to admit generating anxiety rather than fresh ideas for writing. Yes, I vote. Yes, I donate and volunteer and address issues important to me when I can. But nothing is accomplished by hearing everyone’s hot take on current events all day, every day.

Without that constant noise, ship life developed its own rhythm. Mornings often began with lectures about polar ecosystems, exploration history, and the fragile science linking Antarctica’s future to our own. Afternoons might include a Spanish lesson, watching ice fields drift past the window, or jotting down thoughts that surfaced once the noise of daily life disappeared. I gave myself permission to both write and not write, depending on how I felt. Without the usual distractions, my mind slowed down enough to notice things again. Ideas returned that had been waiting patiently for space.

I also learned a few things about myself. It turns out I like Trivial Pursuit. I can tolerate group lessons and workshops better than I expected. I’m actually kind of fun when I’m not stressed. And apparently, I have a short memory for some important lessons. Life will always be riddled with obstacles and tragedies. It is up to us to reserve time for new learning and adventures and to prioritize fun.

Somewhere between lectures on krill and long stretches of ocean where nothing demanded my attention, I realized something many women writers already know but rarely practice. We are often the first people we allow ourselves to disappoint. Our own ideas wait politely while we finish the work for everyone else. Yet the distance between the life we have and the life we want to write about sometimes requires more than discipline. It requires permission.

I have been at home for more than a month now, writing more than I have in ages. I’m continuing my Spanish lessons and trying to stop pushing myself until it hurts. As I can afford it, I plan to keep doing things that renew my energy. And yes, this is me taking a small bow while curbing my time on social media.

Antarctica reminded me that when something meaningful keeps tugging at you, whether it is a story, a journey, or simply the need to rest, it may be worth resurrecting. From shelter to seven continents, the path has never been especially easy or straightforward for me. But making space and honoring the quiet pull toward what matters might be the most important writing practice of all.

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Lizbeth Meredith is an award-winning author of four books and speaker who writes about resilience, travel, and reclaiming one’s story. Her memoir Pieces of Me: Rescuing My Kidnapped Daughters inspired the Lifetime movie Stolen by Their Father, and she is the editor of Unmapped: Solo Women Travelers—Bold Journeys of Healing, Resilience, and Self-Discovery. She lives in East Tennessee and can be found at lameredith.com.

Unmapped: Solo Women Travelers on Bold Journeys of Healing, Resilience, and Self-Discovery

Real women—most in midlife or beyond—step out of their comfort zones and into the world, one bold journey at a time.

From camping in the next county to navigating a foreign city alone, these stories prove transformation doesn’t require luxury or perfect planning—just the courage to say yes.

Born from survival, reinvention, and resilience, Unmapped captures the laughter, friendships, quiet bravery, and freedom found when women travel on their own terms.

Half the royalties support the YWCA’s mission to help women and families escape violence and reclaim their futures—because sometimes the most dangerous place is the one we’re told is safest: home.

Let this collection be your compass, your permission slip, your invitation to take the next step—wherever it leads.

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Tags: featured, women writers

Category: On Writing