I’ve always been the type of person who cherishes her personal space. In fact, I’ve never cohabitated with anyone outside my family for more than a year because I somehow always managed to scare off every roommate I ever had. Not exactly my proudest achievement, but hey, it’s just part of who I am—an introvert through and through.
Life, however, hasn’t always been considerate of my need for solitude. Growing up felt like a series of compromises, with my quest for privacy often sidelined. College was a revelation in terms of the joys and perils of shared dorm bathrooms. I quickly learned the best spots on campus that had locks because, let’s face it, waking up at 3:00 a.m. for a bathroom run is no picnic.
When I got married, I still found myself sharing a bathroom, which now came with the added responsibility of cleaning it. That definitely wasn’t part of the deal! And, as if sharing a bathroom with a guy wasn’t challenging enough, I also had to share my bed. And I don’t mean that in a romantic sense—more like battling for covers, dodging snoring, and navigating the occasional midnight gas attack. Seriously, I’ve contemplated just cutting the blankets in half. But knowing my husband, he’d probably just toss his half off the bed anyway and still reach for mine.
Then came the kids, which effectively obliterated any remaining hope I had for “me time” for the next decade. Now, I share a bathroom with three boys, sometimes all at once, and I can’t recall the last time I had a moment to myself in there. My husband even follows me into the bathroom to chat because it’s the only place where I sit still for more than thirty seconds.
I adore my boys, but let’s be real: that love can feel a bit overwhelming at times. It’s so easy to lose sight of who you are amid family life, forgetting those little things that once defined you.
Last week, I hit my breaking point. After two weeks of my in-laws staying with us, the tension at home was palpable. I tucked the kids in one night and found myself trapped in my son’s bed, pinned down by his limbs, drenched in sweat—my own and his—while desperately avoiding the awkward social situation brewing downstairs. I felt paralyzed, and I just couldn’t take it anymore.
I managed to wriggle free from my son’s grip, got dressed, kissed my husband goodbye, and bolted out of the house like it was on fire. My heart raced with an intoxicating blend of excitement and guilt for abandoning my family obligations, but the thought of freedom was simply too tempting to resist.
I drove around, blasting music and belting out off-key notes, blissfully unaware of anyone around to judge me. Eventually, I treated myself to a solo movie—something I’d never done before. As I sat in the theater, soaking in the ambiance, I finally began to relax for the first time in weeks. I was hooked and thought to myself: “I want more.”
I had become so accustomed to prioritizing everyone else’s needs over my own—especially during chaotic bathroom and mealtime scenarios—that I forgot how liberating it can be to indulge in a little selfishness. Now that I’ve tasted that forbidden fruit, there’s no looking back.
My mind raced with thoughts of other little indulgences I craved to allow myself—those things I seldom do but absolutely should.
- I want to wake up one morning to mimosas, even if I’m not on vacation. I’m an adult, and I can have a drink at 7:00 a.m. if I choose.
- I want to take the scenic route while driving, just so I can replay my favorite song for the fourteenth time. This time, I’ll nail the high notes!
- I want to dress up for no reason at all and have a full-on dance party in my living room. I’m talking about the kind of moves you only bust out when nobody’s watching—think full diva mode.
- I want to buy myself something frivolous, even if it’s just a new shade of nail polish or a sparkly lip gloss. Lingerie doesn’t count unless I’d be mortified to let my dad see it.
- I want to leave my house in utter chaos and hit the sack early, hoping the cleaning fairies visit while I sleep.
- I want to dine out late at night, ordering nothing but desserts and drinks. Seriously, what’s the point of adulthood if I can’t occasionally have cake and ice cream for dinner?
Sometimes, I just want to be me. Alone. And you know what? That’s perfectly okay.
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In summary, it’s essential to carve out time for yourself, even amidst the chaos of family life. Embracing your individuality can recharge your spirit and help you rediscover the joy of simply being you.