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This post is a follow‑up to my earlier piece about the guilt of wanting time for myself. Back then, I shared how conflicted I felt about craving space away from family life. You can read that post here. Today, I want to show what happened when I finally took that time — and why those hours mattered so much.
Coffee, quiet, and a solo cinema seat—my kind of therapy. That’s how my little retreat began. For the first time in a whole year, I had about six hours (okay, maybe five and a half) just for myself. Oh wow, I needed that.
I know some people don’t like leaving their kids at daycare or school to spend time alone. They say, “I love my kids too much to be away from them.” And that’s lovely. But honestly? I was exhausted. We don’t have much help here, and I hadn’t had a single moment to myself in over a month. Even the daycare teachers told me, “You need to take care of yourself.” Not sure if that was a compliment or a gentle warning.
Life Was Heavy
Things were already tight, and then my husband started his Master’s degree. He promised I wouldn’t even notice—but of course I did. Especially after flu season hit and he was off for a week. Then he had to catch up with work and uni, which meant even less help at home. Yes, I was a stay‑at‑home mum at the time, but doing everything alone with no break is seriously tough.
And I didn’t notice how much stress had crept into my life until I stepped away. Every task I was doing was time‑bound. I always had pressure on me. Oh, you can go to the gym, but you have to be back in X amount of time. Sometimes X was less than the actual travel time. That constant countdown made even small joys feel like chores.
My Mini Escape
So, on my day off, I grabbed a coffee and headed to the cinema. I hadn’t watched a movie in one sitting in ages—usually I have to break it into pieces over several days. It’s just not the same. I was craving something romantic or a period drama (definitely not action or superheroes), so I went with Downton Abbey: Grand Finale. Not my usual pick, but I actually enjoyed it.
The average age in the theatre was probably double mine. I think they were surprised to see me there—maybe even more surprised that I was watching a movie on a weekday morning!
And I was proud of myself for understanding everything they said. I usually rely on subtitles, especially since moving to New Zealand. Some accents were really hard to catch at first, so this felt like a small win.
Silence, Spa, Sanity
My husband suggested I meet up with a friend, which sounded nice, but let’s be real—most people aren’t free in the middle of the week. And honestly, I was happy to be alone. Maybe it’s my introverted soul that just needed some quiet.
After the movie, I went to the pool—well, more like a spa or sauna—to relax. It was amazing. I know some people don’t like silence, but when you’ve got a kid and a busy home life, silence can be the most healing thing. Sweating out all the stress in the steam room felt so good.
It felt like heaven: no urgency, no time limit. Well, technically there was a limit, but it was hours, not 20–30 minutes. That’s the difference. When you’re constantly rushing, you decide if you can do things. But when you have space, you decide if you want to do things. And that’s a big difference.
The Reflection
Time flies when you’re out on your own. It ended way too soon. But that little retreat gave me a breath of fresh air.
And here’s the truth: self‑care isn’t selfish. It’s survival. Without it, exhaustion builds until it spills into everything else—your patience, your relationships, your joy. Parenthood doesn’t just take your sleep; it takes your sense of timelessness. Every moment is measured. That’s why these rare hours of freedom feel so precious.
A Question for You
So now I’m curious: if you had a few hours just for yourself, what would you do? Would you take the time, or spend it with your family? What’s your version of a retreat—a quiet coffee, a walk, a nap, or something else entirely?
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