Solo Time Isn’t Selfish
The engine buzz has quieted, and we’ve come to a stop—thirty minutes now, stuck on the tarmac.
The morning started refreshingly calm. All green lights to the airport. A wide-open parking spot waiting for me. A smooth line of sweet and savory snacks as I wandered (for the third time) toward my gate—one of the small hazards of getting to the airport too early.
I keep seeing my daughter in her pajamas, blowing kisses through the garage as I pulled away. That precious send-off. A fleeting moment of home, tugging at my heart. I already miss her. And yet, I’ve been aching for this break.
It’s been a while.
Before the pandemic, and when my daughter was still a baby, solo trips—both business and personal—were a regular part of my rhythm. I’d find myself flying across the Northeast to teach, meet with my team, or just get a reset. Even before motherhood, quarterly solo getaways were essential to surviving two decades in public accounting.
But this past year? It's been a minute.
I’ve been looking forward to some time to focus on my own needs, to dream and build without constant interruption. Because I know that this is sacred space.
Still, the journey never starts without a few bumps—literal and otherwise. When the captain announced a weight issue on our plane, my nerves kicked in again. I had been so proud of myself for staying grounded with meditation. Then the Denver turbulence hit, and I defaulted to my usual in-flight routine: eyes closed, hands gripped, surrendering to the bumps while Taylor is turned all the way up in my air pods.
Eventually, we break through to smoother skies. And I thank myself—for the upgrade. For the nourishing meal. For the nerve-soothing glass of champagne.
The truth is: we need time away as mothers. Not just want. Need. Especially when we’re trying to stay emotionally regulated while building a business or a home—or both.
This time, I’m headed to teach at a conference next to Walt Disney World. For a brief moment, I considered bringing my family. Why not? Same hotel, built-in water park. But thankfully, my husband and my intuition talked me out of it.
Because the truth is, toggling between business and family in a week that demands deep focus is simply too much. I believe in integrating my daughter into my work life when I can—but I also know I need time that's mine.
The work I do is transformational, and it demands presence. A centered nervous system. A schedule that flows with my rhythm—not one that’s packed edge to edge. The extra day before the conference, the upgrade, the moments of pause—these are what bring me back to myself.
Taking a break doesn’t have to mean boarding a plane. It can be an afternoon with a good book at your favorite café. A bubble bath. A midday nap.
How can you carve out a few moments of “you time” this week?
