A few weeks ago, my sister-in-law told me that she was giving up social media for Lent. What a fabulous idea, I thought, and quickly committed to doing the same. While the silence from the scroll was 90% easy, there was still that 10% of the time where I genuinely missed supporting others, or posting an occasional photo that was sure to bring a laugh or a smile to the faces of friends and family. Overall, giving up the time on the phone was a good decision –it provided me with the ability to be more present, put hours back into my day and was a challenge that I could certainly handle. So I stuck with it.

A few days later, our country went into lockdown due to the quickly spreading corona virus. My husband and I made the decision to fully comply, which meant giving up our playdates, errands, gym, activities, school and any babysitter help (not that any of this was an option once the states officially closed down). Now THIS was something new. The selfish overachiever in me had always pushed myself to accomplish more…do more…be more to more people…I had the babysitter help so it was only fitting to take on more, right? But without all of the distractions, to-do lists and the paper calendar I’d often found myself glued to, I was sure to lose my mind. I believed with all my heart that these things were what had been “holding me together” during the baby and toddler “jail time,” as so many others had referred to this season of my life. I believed I was weird and wired differently than everyone else…that I somehow needed these things in my life in order to thrive and survive as a Mom.

Last weekend I was the proud recipient of every Mama’s dream: a hot cup of coffee and some down time at a hotel for the weekend. Now, to be fair, I was there for a writer’s conference with books, note pads, pens, business cards and high heels in hand. I hadn’t been sure of what to be more excited for – the possibility of sleeping past 7, the alone time with my thoughts (not just in the bathroom) or perhaps the writing and speaking tips I would pick up along the way.

As expected, my time was filled with learning, inspiration, “God moments”…all the things I’d hoped for. All the things I’d busily cleaned and cooked and prepared my home for while I’d be gone. All the things I’d pumped bottles and prepped my husband for in regards to his taking on both our three year old as well as our energetic eight month old, for the weekend.  All the things that would be worth it in my anticipation of that solid, magical alone time.

The old me, meaning the person I’ve been for all thirty-five years of my life, loved alone time. Craved it. I’ve always said that I’m an extroverted introvert. As much as I love the energy of being around people and making connections, afterwards, I need a break. Knowing this about myself, I’d never fill a trip with a sidekick to talk to on the plane, or a roommate; There is no better way to zap my energy. And now with the added layer of being a Mom, alone time had certainly become an even greater necessity… Right?

I never want to be a twenty-something again.

Work hard and prove yourself. Network and get to know as many people as possible. Keep in touch with old friends, engage with new ones. Travel, try every internship and juggle hobbies and fitness on top of it. Maybe do more school. Have multiple jobs at once, attend weddings, attend bridal showers, attend weddings, attend bridal showers (not a typo), group dinner, drinks, cabin, and drive…everywhere. Have coffee, have another coffee, meet for the third coffee of the day, and then happy hour. So many happy hours. Save up, pin the thing. Host the thing, design the thing, order the thing, buy the gift, and celebrate.

One of my favorite things about starting a blog based on vulnerability, has been getting to hear the stories of others. In the last week alone, I have interacted with women who have bravely shared their stories of depression, rape, addiction, fluke accidents, suicide attempts and other continued struggles. There is so much power in this! By sharing our pain, the darkness loses its power. When we expose the darkness for what it is, then it no longer holds isolation over anyone. No one has to feel alone, watching the world and thinking that everyone else is going through life without a problem. What has become blatently apparent to me is that everyone has a problem, a story, a past.