The Norwegian Test: When Life Put The Manager to work

In this post, I introduced you to "The Manager" - that internal voice that plans, controls, and tries to keep everything running smoothly. Today I want to share what happened when our Norwegian adventure gave my Manager the ultimate stress test.

The caravan lurched and the towbar thunped into our car as my husband pressed the brakes, and I felt that familiar flutter of panic. We were two thirds of the way down one of Norway's steepest descents somewhere in the middle of Norway's stunning countryside, and our home-on-wheels had just decided it no longer wanted to stop when asked.

Cue the Manager.

Full out panic: the whole trip is ruined. What if we can't find a repair shop out here in the middle of nowhere? What if they can't fix it?

I could feel her gearing up for full crisis mode - the spiral of worry, the mental list of everything that could go wrong.

But here's the thing about recognizing your Manager: once you know she's there, you can choose whether to hand her the steering wheel.

Two Ways to Handle a Crisis

As I sat there in our broken caravan, I had a choice. I could let the Manager take over, or I could try something different.

The Manager's approach: Call everywhere frantically. Worry about what this means for our carefully planned itinerary. Stress about money, time, ruined holidays. Get increasingly agitated when the first two repair shops say they don't have time.

My experiment: "Okay, we need to find a repair shop." Simple. Practical. Present.

We found a campsite for the evening. My husband made some calls to repair shops. When the first two couldn't help, instead of panic, we discussed what the next option could be.

The Manager wanted me to see this as failure, disruption, catastrophe. But when I stepped back from her narrative, it was just... a problem that needed solving.

The Real Test

We carefully drove to the next area and found a repair shop that could help. We needed to wait for a part - one extra night so we found a campsite nearby. The next morning we left the caravan at the repair shop so they could fix it.

This is where the Manager really wanted to take control. When will it be ready? What will we do about lunch? We're wasting precious holiday time. This isn't what we planned.

But I've been practicing something since I first met my Manager: noticing when she shows up, and gently setting her aside.

Instead of pacing and worrying, or researching a thousand options I did a quick Google search: "Waterfall nearby" and we set off.

What the Manager Almost Stole

We spent the most magical morning at that waterfall. We took off our shoes and played in the crystal-clear mountain water. We found some cookies in the car that became our impromptu feast. We explored every rock pool, climbed on boulders, and got completely, wonderfully wet.

The Manager would have walked to the waterfall, taken a few quick photos, and moved on to the "next thing." She would have worried about wet clothes, about "just wasting time," about being the kind of mother who only has cookies at lunchtime.

But that morning became one of our most treasured memories from the entire Norway trip. Not the perfectly planned stops or the scheduled attractions - the breakdown day.

Learning to Choose

This is what I'm learning about the Manager: she's not evil. She's trying to help. But she operates from a place of fear and scarcity, always preparing for the worst-case scenario.

The more I practice stepping back from her voice, the more I discover what's possible when I am not managing every moment. When I am responding to what is, rather than frantically trying to control what might be.

Each time I choose presence over the Manager's panic, it gets a little easier. Each moment I respond rather than react, I'm building something - trust in myself, in life, in the possibility that things can work out even when they don't go according to plan.

I am realizing that the unplanned moments can hold as much magic - sometimes more - than anything we could orchestrate. It creates space for presence, joy, and connection that no amount of planning can guarantee.

The caravan got fixed. We continued our journey. But the real gift wasn't the repaired brakes - it was learning that I could handle the unexpected without letting the Manager hijack the experience.

Now when life throws us a curveball (and with kids, it's more like a daily occurrence), I try to remember that waterfall. I ask myself: am I managing this moment, or am I living it?

The cookies were perfectly adequate, by the way. And the kids? They thought it was the best lunch ever.

How does your Manager show up in though moments?