The Trio & Me

20. Go on a solo holiday

This one was the most challenging, but oh, was it one of the most rewarding things I could have done.

For almost 19 years, my life has revolved around being the best mother I could be. Whilst at times that title has slipped, and I haven’t always been the mother I wanted to be, one thing I have always done is be there. I have been with my children every single day. I’ve been a part of every single part of their lives – the big moments, the little moments, the chaos, the cuddles, the celebrations, the hard days and everything in between. Being a mum has never just been a part of my life; for so long, it has been my life.

On the rare occasions when my kids weren’t around, I filled that time with social contact. I kept myself busy, surrounded myself with friends and made sure there was always someone around. In fact, in 19 years, the longest I had ever gone without being with either my children or a friend was 18 hours. And that was tough. I had become so used to being needed, surrounded and connected that the thought of being completely alone felt almost foreign.

So this year, as part of my 40 Things to Do Before I Turn 40, I decided to do something completely out of character. I went away by myself. Just me. I booked a tiny home in the middle of the Noosa hinterland, with no children, no friends, no responsibilities and absolutely no plans. And honestly, I had no idea what I was going to do with myself.

The first night, I cried. I missed my babies. I felt uncomfortable, lonely and probably a little bit ridiculous for voluntarily putting myself in a tiny house in the middle of nowhere. And because I am an avid horror movie and true crime watcher, my imagination ran wild. Every noise became suspicious, every shadow looked sinister, and I spent a fair amount of time wondering why I had thought this was a good idea.

But eventually, I let myself feel it. I let myself miss them. I let myself feel uncomfortable. And then I parked it there. Slowly, I began to unwind. And somewhere between the quiet, the rain and the complete lack of responsibility, something shifted. I started to really enjoy being there.

I went to the markets by myself and bought beautiful, fresh local produce. I ate so many delicious things. I smiled at the locals and people-watched for hours. I slept in. I watched the rain from my bed and even saw a rainbow. I sat in silence, listening to the trees and the rain, and sometimes I played music and simply enjoyed the little house around me. I wandered around the property, patted cows and showered outside in the rainwater shower. I spent afternoons in the plunge pool enjoying a few wines. I made sourdough every day. I read, I wrote, I baked and I explored the local area. I had no agenda, no schedule and nowhere I needed to be.

And it was beautiful.

I realised how rarely I actually stop. How often my mind is thinking about the next thing that needs to be done, the next person who needs something from me, the next responsibility waiting for me. Even when I have time off, I am usually still doing something for someone else. This time, there was no one else to think about. There was just me.

And for once, I had nowhere I needed to be. No schedules. No responsibilities. No one needing anything from me. Just me.

Most importantly, I remembered that there is a version of me that exists outside of being a mum, a friend, an employee, a partner and everyone else’s support person. A version of me who loves slow mornings, fresh bread, reading, writing, exploring, cooking, rain, quiet and doing absolutely nothing. A version of me who doesn’t need to be productive every second of the day. A version of me who can simply exist without having to give something to someone else.

This experience gave me something I didn’t realise I needed: the chance to simply be with myself. To connect with a part of me that has always been there, but is so often pulled into the needs of others. I didn’t go away because I wanted to escape my life. I went away because I wanted to experience myself outside of it.

And perhaps that was the most rewarding part.

I learnt that being alone doesn’t necessarily mean being lonely. Sometimes, being alone is where you finally get to hear yourself. Sometimes, the quiet gives you the space to remember who you are beneath all the roles you carry.

And honestly? It was wonderful.

I highly recommend taking time for yourself, even if the thought of it makes you uncomfortable. Step into the discomfort. Sit with the loneliness. Let yourself miss the people you love. And then see what happens when you give yourself permission to simply be.

Because sometimes the things that scare us the most are the things that give us the most.

This is something I want to do more of. Not because I love being away from the people I love, but because I am learning that I deserve to spend time with myself too.

Maybe this is what turning 40 is really about – not becoming someone different, but finally making space for the person you have always been.

🤍 K