Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Flee

Every January, I get together with ten of my oldest friends. These are women I grew up with; some I’ve known since kindergarten. Nearly all of them are mothers, which means they are as desperate as I am to get a little respite from the demands of family life.
 
Without fail, we count down the days (and even hours) until our departure for our highly anticipated spa weekend. More to the point, we devolve into a bunch of giddy schoolgirls, texting each other about the wine we’re bringing and the facials we’ve booked. With each passing year, we seem to get more hysterical about things.

Take, for instance, my dear friend Sarah, who is my driving buddy from Madison to the resort an hour away. After leaving tire marks in my driveway and shrieking “TIME FOR MOMMY TO GET THE HELL OUT OF DODGE!” to my blissfully empty car, I fly across town at illegal speeds to pick up Sarah, who is standing in front of her house with her bags at her feet, checking her watch. She sees me and within ten seconds is ensconced in my passenger seat. If we could crack open one of the bottles of wine in my trunk, it would already be half-gone. 
 
As I pull away from Sarah’s house, she yells, “PEACE THE FUCK OUT!” at the top of her lungs. To whom, you may ask, is she wishing such tidings of goodwill? That would be her sweet husband and three kids, whose noses are forlornly plastered to the living room window as they watch us peel down the street. 
 
***
 
Sarah and I are far from alone in our almost breathtakingly intense desire to flee our families once in awhile. To get a rare moment to ourselves (or time with good girlfriends, who require nothing but laughter and idle gossip) is important for so many reasons. I’ve asked my friends to describe how they feel when they are able to steal away, whether it’s for an hour or for a weekend, and this is what they said:

  • Balanced
  • Whole
  • At ease
  • Unencumbered
  • Non-suffocated
  • Relaxed
  • Free
  • Quiet
  • Young
  • Lighter

It doesn’t necessarily require a trip out of town to get a break from our duties. My friend Terri says she likes to visit Bed, Bath & Beyond, where she can aimlessly roam the aisles by herself. Margaret loves to read in a coffee shop. Others, like my friend Liz, go running. She says, “My runs are the only time I literally have nothing but myself: no kids, no purse, no car. It’s the ultimate getaway just steps outside my front door.” Laura agrees: “The only time I truly feel free of my family responsibilities is when I go out without my cell phone, which is why I love going for a run. When the sun is right, it can feel like a Caribbean vacation.” OK, Laura, you might be exaggerating a tiny bit (because Wisconsin never feels like the Caribbean), but I admire your good attitude and think you’re on to something. Whether it’s running or shopping or getting a pedicure, it doesn't matter if we're in the Midwest or Mexico: it’s that we’re able to remember who we are without children hanging from our limbs – what makes us tick, what bring us delight, what makes us feel full and content and 25-years-old again.       
 
Virtually all of my friends indicate they do not get enough time to themselves. (I include myself in this group.) And yet, it goes without saying that the consequences of not getting physical and/or emotional space from our families every so often can be tough. We become unproductive, off-balance, stressed-out and short-tempered. My sister, who has three small kids, says she starts to feel terribly isolated. A friend of mine admits, “If there is nothing on my to-do list, I can become overwhelmed by the choices I have. It’s almost like I’ve lost the ability to be spontaneous. Then I become depressed by my inability to make the most of my time alone.” Another friend says, “I never get enough time to myself; there are just not enough hours in the day. Some nights I just cry. I don’t cry because I’m unhappy or angry. I cry as a relief from my exhaustion.”
 
Ann is one mom who is able to carve out time for herself without guilt or excuses, and I admire her endlessly for it. She says, “It’s critical to recharge on my own so I can be ready for my family when they need me. It’s like when our kids were newborns, and the pediatrician said, ‘Sleep when they sleep.’ It’s the same philosophy. You never know when you will be called in for overtime without notice.”

I aspire to be more like Ann, but it is awfully hard – although maybe it’s as simple as doing what Laura does when she can’t go for a run: “I retreat to the bathroom (behind a locked door or two) to take an extra-long shower or read a magazine,” she says. Liz has a similar philosophy: “Sometimes I have to get creative. I read in the car pick-up line at school, and it’s often my favorite 20 minutes of the day. Any time I can be on my own is equivalent to putting on my yoga pants after a long day in tight jeans.”   

However we go about accomplishing it, I think we all need to flee a little bit more, because no one wants to spend her entire life in tight jeans. When we commit to putting on our metaphorical yoga pants and taking better care of ourselves, everyone benefits. As my wise friend Lisa says, “If I am happy as a human being, I am happy as a mother. And a happy mom is a good mom.”  
 
***
 
Unsurprisingly, my friends and I are happy human beings for our two idyllic days at the spa. Between massage appointments and soaks in the hot tub, Liz suddenly gets serious. She proceeds to summarize, in the most eloquent way, why our trip is so critical to her well-being: “Obviously, sitting around in a robe is relaxing. But even more important is the relaxing of my mind. There is nothing to do or worry about. For just a little while, I don’t have to be defined by someone or something else. I’m not the wife, the mom, the helpful neighbor, the overachieving volunteer, the hardworking co-worker, the snack mother, or the carpooler. Although I love those roles in my life, I just get to be me.”