Would you consider an Adult's Gap Year?
Not about running away — but finding your way back to you.
A little news first…
My old friend
and I have decided to hit record on some juicy conversations we've been having behind the scenes — topics close to our hearts, with a distinctly Sunshine Coast flavour. Think women’s health, midlife chaos, creative reinventions, and all the bits of life we’re not supposed to talk about out loud.The podcast is coming very soon, but in the meantime, we’ve quietly launched the Facebook community. It's already bubbling with women who are up for more connection, less small talk.
If you’re craving real conversations, deeper friendships, or just a space where you don’t have to pretend to have it all together, we made this for you.
We’ve also set up a Substack just for The Secret Lives of Sunny Coast Wives — so come join us there if it fits your bill.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the idea of women stepping away — not because they’re giving up, but because they’re coming back to themselves.
A few months ago, I watched a video on Facebook that stopped me in my scroll.
It was Monique van Tulder talking about The Grown-Up Gap Year — and it felt like she had a direct line to my brain.
The way she spoke about adventure, burnout, midlife, and the longing for something more was so familiar, it made my skin buzz. Within minutes, I’d bought her book, messaged three friends, and was quietly plotting my own version of escape.
Then I showed it to Pat.
I wasn’t trying to say anything, really. I just wanted to share something that had hit a nerve. But the next morning, I woke up to this text:
Babes, I appreciate all that you do and have done in our family past... You keep the home together... I don’t want you to run away — BUT I want to create things to reward and look forward to...
If all the mums in the country up and left at once… society would crash.
Wow. A text from a man who gets it. Mostly.
If all the mums in the country up and left at once… society would crash.
If that’s not a sign of how much women are holding up, I don’t know what is.
The thing is, I don’t want to run away. I want to return to myself.
There’s a difference.
And it reminded me of this passage I underlined (twice) in Monique’s book:
“Hesitant at first to speak of the elation at being thousands of kilometres away from husband and beloved offspring. Yet the euphoric sense of returning to self was undeniable.
van Tulder, Monique. A Grown Up's Gap Year: The Guidebook for mid Lifestyle. Wellbeing. Adventure. Chic. (pp. 23-24). (Function). Kindle Edition. .”
A couple of months ago, I felt that euphoric return. It wasn’t in Tuscany or Tulum — it was in my parents’ bed, wedged between them like a kid, after taking Mum to an urgent medical appointment. I stayed a couple of days longer than I needed to, and all we did was drink tea and watch movies and eat in our dressing gowns. I didn’t have to be anyone but myself, and somehow that was exactly the reset I needed.
Here was another time I experienced that this year…
The Transformative Power of Solo Travel and Ecstatic Beats
What happens when you step out of your routine, board a plane and train alone, and dance with strangers to the thrum of the shared beat? You remember something primal: we are creatures built for movement, connection, and moments of untamed joy.Twenty tabs open with Robyn Law is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, co…
Which brings me to Mother’s Day yesterday.
Now that it’s behind us and the florists have gone quiet again, I want to say something not just to mums, but to every kind of woman.
To the single mums:
Doing the juggle, the hustle, the heart work — we see you. The bedtime stories, the broken taps, the double shifts, and the midnight tears. You are nothing short of remarkable. You are holding up worlds. And you deserve way more than one card a year.
To the ones who didn’t get flowers yesterday:
Maybe your mum is no longer here. Maybe she wasn’t who you needed her to be.
Maybe you're not a mother—by choice, by circumstance, or by silent grief.
Maybe you’ve spent your energy mothering friends, neighbours, fur babies, or your own inner child.
I see that love. That kind of nurturing doesn’t get a brunch booking, but it’s just as life-giving.
You’ve built support networks. You’ve carried the mental load at work and been the go-to for crisis talks. You’ve shown up with casseroles, check-ins, and truth bombs when they were needed most.
You might not tick the box on a census form, but your care has changed lives.
There are so many ways to mother in this world.
Not all of them come with stretch marks or surnames.
If you’ve been dreaming of a pause, a pivot, or even just a weekend where you’re not needed by anyone, this is your sign.
Not to run away. But to come home to yourself.
Let’s normalise adult gap years. Micro sabbaticals. Long walks alone. Girls’ weekends. Time that doesn’t need to be earned.
You don’t need permission. But in case you’re waiting for it, here it is.
Love,
Robyn