Mum alone at home: Two weeks just for me!

Everyone knew exactly what they wanted for the summer holidays: My husband wanted to go to France, our teenage son wanted to go surfing and our daughters wanted to take a riding course. Just a normal family holiday. And me? «Actually, I want to be alone,» I kept thinking. Which I immediately swallowed.

How abnormal is that, who wants time out instead of family time? Not being there when the girls start galloping and my son gets on a surfboard for the first time? Not drinking rosé with my husband and looking out to sea?

My desire for time for myself was just as heavy in my stomach as the idea of simply letting my family travel to France alone. For weeks I pondered, wavered, felt my own expectations as well as those of those around me clearly pushing me in the direction of a family holiday: It's what you do as a good partner and mum. You should even want to.

But I realised more and more that I didn't want it this year. Why not? Because I was busy for months on end for everyone else. I was helping my children, who were constantly at home sick during the winter months. Our teenager who was changing schools. My husband who was working 12-hour days and travelling for whole weeks. I tried to integrate our young dog into the family, manage repairs in the house and garden and not neglect my job.

«I lost my sense of self when I was constantly doing things for everyone else.»

Constantly functioning, keeping everything running and fulfilling everyone's needs. My sense of myself got lost in all the hustle and bustle. Quietly and unnoticed.
I realised more and more that I needed time for myself. Urgently, now. And for longer than a walk. Not to be Super Mum and Wonder Woman for once, but just to be me. To feel this me again and find out what is good for me. So I made my decision.

«I never thought that being alone would affect me like this. But I had wanted it.»

My husband and children understood me, even if they were sad. «As long as you talk to us on the phone every day and sing to me in the evening, that's fine,» said our youngest daughter. She knows and says so clearly what she needs - that's exactly what I want to find for myself, I thought. I helped with the packing and saw my husband and children dragging their suitcases down our hill. They were full of anticipation for a fortnight in France, daddy time and activities, beach and crêpes.

All alone in our house, I started to cry. I never thought that being alone would affect me so much. But I had wanted it. «I'm really jealous of you - you're going to enjoy it so much,» my best friend had predicted. Wrong. I couldn't enjoy anything. On the first day, I couldn't even go into the empty children's rooms. I thought of homesick children and a lonely man surrounded by French girls who wanted to flirt on holiday. I wondered what I was actually doing in this strangely quiet house. And googled for cheap flights.

When I saw the chaos, I was able to let go

Finally, the first call from my family came. Everyone was happy and excited, they were shouting into the phone, in the background I could see the chaos in the small holiday flat thanks to FaceTime ... and then I could let go.
I closed the children's bedroom doors and tidied up the living room until it looked just like it did when I was single. No craft projects the children had started, no teen socks, no newspapers my husband had read. It was MY house again. Wonderfully spacious, wonderfully quiet, wonderfully tidy.

The inner clarity slowly returned along with the outer clarity. My whirling thoughts came to rest and slowly settled like tea leaves after being stirred. At first, I kept asking myself how I should make the best use of all this time. Tidy the children's wardrobes? Remove mountains of laundry? Finally take all the old stuff in the garage to the second-hand shop? No, stop, stop! That wasn't the point.

«Being me is enough - being is enough». «Doing what's good for me». I wrote my motto, my goals on yellow Post-Its and stuck them on the kitchen cupboards. «Everything is allowed, nothing is required.» My summer holiday feeling as a child - I wanted to experience it again. Not having to work. Do whatever I felt like doing. But what was that actually? My self, my heart's desires, where were they hiding?

The more I pondered, the worse the clichés that came to mind became: Eating Magnum, reading Gala, drinking Prosecco. No, honestly, I hadn't made time for that. I lay down in the hammock and listened to the summer. Flattened by the heat, it became as quiet in my head as it was in our house. And then, finally, I felt something real again. Real needs quietly rose to the surface inside me like small, clear bubbles. New ones kept appearing over the next few days and I was able to realise them, all by myself, in my own way.

Running through the garden in my pyjamas early in the morning, picking berries and listening to the first birds. Walking in the still cool forest. Reading through whole books in one go. Go to the swimming pool, swim laps just for me and cycle home again. Cooking for a dear friend. Lying in the grass, under the apple tree, daydreaming. Talking to my parents on the phone at length. Eating exactly when I'm hungry; exactly what I'm craving: fresh apricot yoghurt. Caprese salad. Courgettes from the grill.

Nothing special or exciting. Nothing that would have earned me hundreds of likes or impressed anyone. Except for myself. Because I realised that, fortunately, behind all the responsibility and functioning, there was still something there: my sense of myself and what suits me right now. That the me is still there. A me that had probably withdrawn and played dead amidst all the hustle and bustle around me, the noise, the expectations of me. It must have suffered from too much attention, time and energy for others and too little for myself.

Most of the time it was a very unspectacular, happy, harmonious feeling for me to live like this for a fortnight. To give my being space again, to get a feeling for real needs, to be close to myself. To be enough for myself, to experience something completely new in my familiar home. To calm down, to find clarity - it wasn't about the mind, it was about the experience.

«Being alone hurt and felt good. I needed my will to persevere.»

But there were also painful moments when I longed for my family. When my youngest daughter sobbed into the phone in the evening because she was so homesick. When I heard about my first experiences and realised that I had irretrievably missed them. When I didn't know what to do with myself and my ego remained stubbornly silent. Being alone hurt and felt good. I needed my willpower to persevere.

After these two weeks, I firmly resolved to keep my needs so clear and to stay so close to myself. Would that work? I had to start on my own, I can only consolidate it with my family.
Now they're coming back in a few days, my husband and the children. I'm looking forward to seeing them. The house will be busy, untidy and noisy again. Someone will always need something from me, always want to tell me something. Sometimes I'll be annoyed, most of the time I'll probably be happy that they're all back. And I'll definitely be planning the next few months for myself.

What helped me to find myself during my time alone:

• Define mottos for time alone
• Talk to supportive friends
• Give myself a loose daily structure
• Allow plenty of time for needs and ideas to grow
• Select few activities and meetings
• Eat consciously
• Visit favourite places
• Reflecting in the diary
• Have an inspiring pile of books ready

The author

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