"Where are my school uniforms? Why haven't you done this? Why haven't you done that?"
This morning, I awoke to the familiar demands of family life after spending a blissful weekend away with one of my oldest friends. (She wants me to tell you she’s not 100; we’re the same age, ha, but we’ve known each other a long time.)
Today, the contrast was so jarring it felt like a slap in the face, a harsh return to reality that left me questioning why taking time for ourselves as women feels so revolutionary.
The Sweet Escape
Let me tell you about this weekend, because it was exactly what my soul needed.
I flew into Newcastle from Brisbane on Friday afternoon, immediately flooded with memories from my flight attendant days at Virgin Blue. The last time I flew into Newcastle was 2004, when I flew a well-known Aussie "Gladiator" actor who was hands-down the rudest passenger I'd ever encountered. But that's another story.
Both of us mamas needed time out from our usual lives, to decompress, reconnect, and rest without anyone or anything else demanding our attention. How revolutionary is that concept? Taking a break from grocery shopping, meal prepping, and washing endless school uniforms to worry about no one but yourself, even if it's only for a couple of days.
We spent Saturday morning lazily over breakfast at a café, sightseeing through Anna Bay (which looked surprisingly like Middle Eastern dunes), and indulging in what I can only describe as sacred nana nap time. Saturday night brought us to Shoal Bay Country Club for a seafood feast in what is honestly a gorgeous part of the world.
Sunday delivered the perfect finale: a hike up Mt Tomaree with the best pain au chocolate pastry I've ever had (no more supermarket versions for me, I’m ruined) from the local Nelson Bay bakery, followed by bacon and eggs at home, and ending with an Aperol Spritz at the marina before sharing pizza and prosecco.
It was simple. It was nurturing. It was exactly what we both needed.
The plan included some writing time (we both have creative projects we're working on), and while we did some brainstorming, it was really about rest, connection, and just being present with each other and the beautiful scenery.
If you're inspired to plan your own Nelson Bay getaway, you can actually stay at the same gorgeous apartment we did, my friend rents it out here.
The Reality Slap
Monday afternoon, I arrived home just as the kids returned from school. Reality didn't wait for a gentle transition.
With my energy already waning over the last month (we've been experimenting with my testosterone dosages), I was tired but pushed out the family's favourite chicken roast dinner before crashing by 7 PM.
Then came Tuesday morning. The demands. The expectations. The immediate assumption that because I was back, everything should magically be handled.
It was like a slap in the face.
Nothing that a Tuesday morning gym class, a 5km walk, and coffee with a friend didn't eventually fix, it really highlighted how different those two worlds felt.
When Society Would "Collapse"
Here's something that really got me thinking: I once shared a Sunrise segment about Monique van Tulder's "Adult Gap Year" with my husband. His response was telling; he worried that if all women took extended time for themselves, society would struggle to function as a realisation of all that we do.
Maybe weekend getaways for recharging instead?
Thank you, I'll take that.
But this exchange made me realise something: isn't it telling that the idea of women taking extended time for themselves is seen as a threat to social order? Weekend getaways be like they're radical acts of rebellion rather than basic human needs for rest and restoration?
The Permission We Don't Need (But Think We Do)
What struck me most about this weekend wasn't just how good it felt to prioritise my own needs, it was how guilty I felt for enjoying it so much. How revolutionary it seemed to spend three days thinking primarily about my own comfort, interests, and well-being.
We've been so conditioned to be the managers of everyone else's lives that taking time to manage our own feels selfish. We've been so trained to be constantly available that being unavailable for a weekend feels like abandoning our posts.
But here's what I know after that gorgeous weekend and that eye-opening Tuesday morning: We need both.
We need the space to remember who we are when nobody needs anything from us. We need the reminder of what it feels like to move through days at our own pace, following our own interests, having conversations that aren't about logistics or problem-solving for others.
And yes, we need to return to our responsibilities, but we also need to return with full tanks rather than empty ones.
The Radical Act of Rest
Taking time for yourself isn't selfish; it's essential. It's sustainable.
It's not abandoning your family. It's modelling for them what healthy self-care looks like.
It's not neglecting your responsibilities. It's ensuring you have the energy to handle them from a place of abundance rather than depletion.
The fact that a weekend away with a friend feels revolutionary says more about our culture's expectations of women than it does about the reasonableness of our needs.
Your need for rest is not negotiable. Your need for connection beyond family logistics is valid. Your need to remember who you are outside of your caregiving roles is essential.
So here's your permission slip (not that you need it, but sometimes we like to see it in writing):
Take the weekend away. Book the coffee date. Protect the evening for yourself. Schedule the solo walk. Plan the overnight with friends.
Society won't collapse. The uniforms will eventually get washed. The family will figure it out.
And you? You'll return with something precious: the reminder that you're not just everyone's solution, you're someone worth caring for too.
What's your version of Nelson Bay calling to you right now?
Can't get away for a weekend right now? I understand completely, sometimes life's logistics make physical escapes impossible. But what if you could create space to remember who you are without leaving home? We started our completely free 12-week Artist's Way creative recovery journey this Monday, and it's never too late to join us. Through daily morning pages and weekly artist dates, you'll carve out sacred time for yourself right where you are.
Join our gentle accountability group and discover that sometimes the most profound journeys happen three pages at a time.
P.S. - If the idea of taking time for yourself brings up guilt, resistance, or that familiar voice that says "I don't have time for that," you're exactly the woman who needs to read this twice and book something beautiful for yourself this week.
