As I write this, I’m happily sipping a local sour in a taphouse in the D terminal of Atlanta’s Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport (“the busiest and most efficient airport in the world!” the speaker system reminds me every three minutes). This is my first flight without a small child in what feels like years, and I could not be happier to fly to the west coast for a much-needed weekend away. Seattle, here I come!
My flight has already been delayed once, and I don’t even care. I had R. drop me off at the airport more than four hours early, so I could write and drink and bask in the aloneness of being a solo traveler in an airport that hosted an average of 285,999 other passengers today. What a thrill.
I’ve done so poorly at containing my excitement about this trip that every time I told R. that I would miss him and the Bean and the dogs, he promptly spat, “Yeah right!” Which is only a little offensive and wrong. I will totally miss them. I will also just be delighted to love them from afar until Monday at 11:40 pm EST.
And despite his slightly hurt feelings, R. understands this because I have always been this way, and he has always known this about me. As much as I love to be a clingy attention whore who wants him to forgo chores in favor of giving me a steady stream of affection and flattery…I also love being out in the world on my own.
I’m with R. because I love him and like him and want to be there. I don’t need him. And he doesn’t need me either. He likes me in his life. We have a good one that we’ve built together—one that’s even fuller and better and more beautiful with the addition of a Bean and three goofy hounds. But we also choose to stay. No one is forcing us to be here.
We could walk away at any time, and although it would require some paperwork I wouldn’t want to deal with and a division of assets that would be a bummer and a half, we would both survive and find a way forward. If that were to happen, I would be devastated. Decoupling is not the same as dying. I could do the living, laughing and loving all on my own if I must. R. could, too.
I think this distinction is an important one to make because our partnership thrive because of our ability to exist as individuals who aren’t wholly dependent on one another for everything. It’s one of those things modern-day romance seems to require. Not only should your person be your person, but they should also be your best friend and your confidant and your lover and your equal partner in domestic labor and finances and childrearing. They should be there, loving you, fucking you, supporting you, uplifting you, providing you with companionship every single day in every single way. It’s a hard fantasy to realize. It’s also unhealthy and limiting.
Traveling without my family is one way I try to break away from this mold society sometimes try to foist upon us. Much like my decision to go on the Greece retreat when my daughter was a mere 10 weeks old, I seek out new and interesting ways to be my own person within the relationships most important to me.
This might not be the case for everyone (namely the Libras among us, of which R. is one), but I am a better wife and mama when I get time to exist as Karli, the person who both embodies and expands beyond these titles. And I believe that my husband and daughter want Karli the fully realized human more than they want someone who is forced to be only two things.
I’ll share an example to help illustrate this point. When I was in Tucson tripping on mushrooms, early in the experience, I had a thought: “How could you do this? You’re E.’s mom!” But the response was so instantaneous it felt like it came less from my own silly mind and more from the Great Beyond: “You’re doing this because you’re E.’s mom.”
And that was true. It was the whole truth of the reason why I wanted to have this experience, but it was a big part. The more I can learn about myself and become a better person for the effort, the more I bring to the table in my interactions with the loves of my life.
Solo travel does that for me, too. It helps me find my way back to myself when I’ve spent too much time writing about agricultural robots and unloading dishwashers and explaining very calmly to a shrieking child that she cannot follow dada into the bathroom because everyone needs alone time, and he doesn’t want her there, and he will be out in just a minute.
And in case you were curious, E. is going through a bit of a daddy phase, but she still REFUSES to say “dada” to him. I hear her say “mama” at him at least once a day, and when she is yelling in despair that he has left her for the toilet, she will sometimes just shout “YAYAYAYAYA” instead of the name she is perfectly capable of saying.
I feel like this is all building up to when E. really wants something like a brand-new car for her 16th birthday or to take a spring break trip to Cancun. That’s when she’ll really turn up the charm for dada. Trust me when I tell you that I have already seen this 16-month-old child play the long game to get or do things she absolutely knows she’s not supposed to do. It’s devious.
Side note aside, one of the best inspirations to be fully myself is my child. That little tyrant gives zero fucks about what other people think or want. She’s gonna do her. That’s the (Aries) energy I’m seeking to embrace on this trip to the other coast. I’m also going to do me. Without other people or pups to consider, I get the gift of true freedom for a few short days. And don’t worry, almost as soon as I return, R. leaves on one of two work trips he’s taking over the next month. I’ll be back to mama mode before we know it. For now, though, I’m going to keep sipping this sour and enjoy the peace that is caring only about myself.
With pleasure,
Yes, Misstrix
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