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I remember as a young mother reading Virginia Woolf’s words that noted for a woman to write, she needed a room of her own and freedom from interruption and thinking to myself, “I could really use that.”  So I set up a room of my own—an office to work and write—and warned my sons that they could only disturb me if the house was on fire or they were bleeding. 

But as the years went by and my sons grew along with my career, a room of my own was no longer enough.  Because as long as my husband or my kids were in the house, my instinct as a wife and mother to please and be available to others made me switch from anticipating inspiration to wanting to meet everyone’s needs.     

Lately, I must confess, I’ve been feeling a bit lost, tired and sort of disconnected from others—something I know happens whenever I’m feeling disconnected from myself and my “inner core.”   What I needed was time away by myself to recharge my batteries, to hear myself think and get back to the core of my inner stillness.  No kids.  No husband.  No distractions.  No noise (especially no football games).

Last weekend, I got my wish.  I rented a cabin an hour north of home, and packed nothing but comfortable clothes, a bag of books and my journals. 

When I first walked into the cabin, I felt relieved to be alone and excited about the prospect of spending an entire weekend by myself, with no plans and no expectations to be somewhere or please someone.  But I also felt restless, wondering what I should do first?   I had to kill the impulse to be productive, to accomplish a “goal” and work down a “to do” list.    My first desire was to read a book without distraction—no checking emails or text messages; no getting up to thaw meat for dinner; no wondering if the dogs needed water or if I needed to switch the white clothes from the washer to the dryer. 

It might not seem as if fulfilling the desire to read would be a big deal, but growing up, my worth was often measured in productivity.   Saturdays were filled with chore lists and most activities—no matter how mundane—had clear goals.  Daydreaming was often met with, “Don’t just sit there, DO SOMETHING!”  So just watching a fly circle my soda can, a bee land on a black-eyed Susan or a hummingbird discover the feeder for the first time felt like stolen moments, done in secret.   As a child, I remember watching a rabbit makes its way from the shelter of the pines in our back yard to the garden and feeling something I now know as “joy,” bubble up from my belly to my heart, making it swell.  Funny what you remember, when you give yourself some time.    

In my solitary cabin, after I filled my ice bucket and unpacked, I forced myself to sit on the couch and close my eyes; I willed myself to breathe in and out, giving myself permission to just…be.  I pulled a book out of my bag, grabbed my journal and a pen and headed to the front porch swing. 

I couldn’t stop smiling. 

I always thought my desire to be spend time alone was unique to me; that other women were completely happy shuttling children to and fro, making brownies for birthday party celebrations at school and making sure their husbands were happy and that dinner was on the table each night.  I thought other women were content to be mom, wife, chauffeur, nurse, cook, teacher and house manager and satisfied to walk out of their house every morning, their calendars synched, without a hair out of place. 

I have always envied that. 

But the more I shared with friends about where and how I was going to spend my weekend alone, and how, the more I realized that most women are trying to find that inner stillness and a balance that doesn’t involve giving ourselves away piece by piece to our families, the PTA and the high school football concessions.   

Like most women, I always take on much more than I should because I have this incredible desire to be everything to everyone.  I want to be a great mom to my kids, a great wife to my husband, a great colleague and a great volunteer.  But all that greatness requires a constant giving out of myself until sooner rather than later, I have nothing left to give.    

And like so many women, I run on empty.    

My friend, Elaine said that her new motto is:  You can do everything, but you can't do it all at the same time!  As a coach, she said she spends a lot of time with women doing the opposite of what you'd expect a coach to do—not getting them to do more but instead, helping them find a way to do what they want out to do out of passion, not obligation. 

In her book, Gift From The Sea, Anne Morrow Lindbergh wrote:

            Actually these are among the most important times in one’s life—when one is alone.  Certain springs are tapped only when we are alone.  The artist knows he must be alone to create; the writer, to work out his thoughts; the saint, to pray.  But women need solitude in order to find again the true essence of themselves: that firm strand which will be the indispensable center of a whole web of human relationships.  She must find that inner stillness which Charles Morgan describes as “the stilling of the soul within the activities of the mind and body so that it might be still as the axis of a revolving wheel is still.”

Over the course of the weekend, I spent time in prayer, read five books, filled an entire journal with thoughts and excerpts from some of the books I read and outlines for new columns (this one included).  In the stillness, I heard God’s voice and felt long-needed comfort.  The books fed my soul; the writing, unleashed my imagination and let creativity seep in once again.  I left my room only twice in 72 hours.      

As I packed up, it began to rain.  Into my bag, I tucked the pen that came with the room—the pen I used all weekend to journal.  That pen now sits here on my desk, forever reminding me that I need to be alone for part of each year—a few days, a week, if possible; and without a doubt, a few minutes each day so that I can be still, keep in touch with my core.    

Because if I don’t, I will have nothing left to give to my family, my friends or most importantly, myself.   

Diana Keough is a Pulitzer prize nominated journalist and the mother of four sons.  She is also the co-founder and Editor-in-Chief of ShareWIK.com.

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