Bummed that we weren’t going to the beach as a family this summer and very much needing some time alone, I thought that I would take a beach vacation alone for my birthday.  The last time I traveled without my family was over 10 years ago.  I am certainly not afraid of being alone; in fact I prefer it most times.  I have no problem going to the movies, out to lunch or museum exhibit by myself; I think that I am very good company.   Really I go a little crazy if I’m not allowed some mental and physical space and this summer was especially hard because my husband was working long hours and traveled a lot.   I was rarely alone—not even when I slept because my daughter had developed a bad habit of falling asleep in my bed.  Although I was a little apprehensive about leaving my daughter (who was not happy to see me go) and my dog (who I feared wouldn’t be fed for the duration of my trip), I was excited about getting in some quality “Me Time.”  As my day of escape approached, I became downright giddy.

So why did I become anxious the minute I stepped into my hotel room?  The 3 nights and 2 days ahead of me seemed endless.   Although I purposely chose a beach destination—because I love the beach and wanted to relax—now I regretted my decision.  I thought that instead I should have spent a weekend in New York where I could shop, go to museums and basically spend my time going and doing—where I could have an agenda.  As much as I crave quiet, time to think and a day with no agenda when I am at home, now that I had that, I was freaking out.

How strange and completely unexpected.

I sat down and analyzed what I was feeling (a bonus there: I could actually take the time to think about myself).   I realized that the last 7 years of my life have especially been hectic and self-sacrificing…..and I have gotten used to it.  What little time I stole for myself was in snippets and spurts; now a few days of unplanned time and no one to care for was foreign and unsettling.

This was ridiculous!  I had traveled Mexico and Europe alone!  I was always up for an adventure!  And this was only a Ritz-Carlton hotel; I had to get a grip.  “Explore the hotel,” I said aloud.  Yes, yes, that would give me something to do.  I found the pool, the hot tub, the boutique.  I toured the spa.  Moving my body and being “useful” calmed me down.   Finally I made it to the beach and saw what I came for: the ocean.   I exhaled.

I spent the next 2 days on the beach people-watching or hanging out in the water.   I had brought a notebook with me to record any profound thoughts—since I now had time to think–but none came to me.  I think that since my brain was finally able to breath a bit, it just needed a rest.  Sometimes I had on my iPod, but mostly not; I liked the sound of nothingness–hearing conversations, but not being a part of them, the ocean, the wind.  I read 2 books, watched 3 movies and listened to a live Cuban band in the hotel lobby while drinking champagne.   I did nothing in particular and wasn’t productive at all.

It was very, very nice.

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