Solicited Solitude

  article by MEREDITH MCKINNIE

Sometimes, I miss being alone. In the last seven years, my life has gone from being a party of one to a party of five. I had a decade to myself prior to meeting my husband. Time was my friend; we coalesced and rarely hurried through life. Being a wife and mother means hurrying, checking items off the list, but oh the gratification it brings. I’m old school and keep a list. I’m young enough for it to be digital, but old enough to take the time to check each box. Attending so many needs in varying degrees makes me feel needed, but so much so that it can be stifling. With the added pressure of being a student and teacher coupled with my domestic commitments, I began to feel drained. There was not enough of me left for me. And I had had enough time with just me to genuinely miss myself.

With a particularly weighty deadline approaching in November, I told my husband I needed some days to work uninterrupted. I had papers to write and finals to grade, and I couldn’t muster the strength to even plan any of it. He took the girls to his parent’s home a few hours away. The girls were excited, but not as much as I was. They left on Friday evening and weren’t returning until Tuesday night. I helped load the bags and fasten the girls into their seats. I kissed my husband through the window and poked fun at the tears in his eyes. I still find myself surprised and humbled by how much he loves me. I did, however, have big plans after their departure. I poured myself a glass of wine, ran a warm bath that would not be rushed, and just sipped and read a book for pleasure. The work would be there tomorrow. I stayed submerged until my fingers pruned, and just as I reached to drain the tub, my phone rang. My husband wanted me to know he missed me already.

I thought about that call long after it ended. I know my husband well enough to know how much he anticipated seeing his family, but I could also see how sad he was that I wouldn’t be joining them. I should have felt worse about it, but I didn’t. I know myself enough to know when I need a break. And I was overdue. I told him with the Christmas break approaching, I need to miss them to fully enjoy the togetherness again. I know this may sound odd, and many women revel in the day-to-day with their families, dreading any pauses or interruptions. But I’m not one of those women. I love my family, but I love my free time just as much. I skip to the car each morning going to work. I have an entire office all to myself, and no one constantly interrupts my work as they do at home. I have a purpose apart from what is expected of me by my circumstances. My home had become a place where it was hard to relax.

But in those five days of solitude, my home became my oasis again. I didn’t go into the office. I had 2000 square feet all to myself. When I did venture to the grocery store, I came home to the house just as I’d left it. I woke early in the morning without being awoken, and I poured a luxuriously hot cup of coffee, curled back up in bed, and watched the news I’m normally only allowed in snippets over a motley of voices. I studied and wrote and graded in a solid seven-hour span, closed the laptop each day at a respectable hour, and kicked back without domestic duties looming. There was nothing waiting on me, no one calling my name.

Several times throughout each day, I would FaceTime my family, laugh at the little girl-isms, make kiss faces at my husband through the screen, remind Wilder that no, I loved her more, and see how much fun they were all having. They needed a change of venue and I needed a reintroduction to mine. I tackled house organization projects, had long phone conversations with friends, drank more wine and made dinners that weren’t eaten in bites between grabbing everyone something else. I just got to be. I marinated in the silence and solitude and it fed my deprived soul. On one call, Wilder asked, “Do you miss me, mama?” I hesitated and responded, “I’ll be so excited to see you when you get back.” My husband laughed from the belly. He knows me best. I realized that what I had been missing was me. I got lost in everyone around me.

That break taught me one thing. I need to take more breaks. I need to give myself the freedom to demand private time, apart from the people I love most. I can love them more when I am the best version of me. I have more to give when I am fulfilled. And I can’t always depend on others to fill me up. I’m in charge of my own tank. I must recognize what I need, articulate those feelings, and insist on its priority. I am showing my girls what a mother does. And the message I want most for them is to take care of themselves, in whatever form necessary. For me, it’s solicited solitude.

When my husband and the girls returned Tuesday evening, I had little girls piling on my lap, my husband’s warm, comforting embrace, and a chorus of “Mom, we missed you so much.” I grabbed Wilder’s face, looked deep into the eyes of the one who thrives on focused attention, and said wholeheartedly, “Mama missed you too.” And I meant it.