Image: Fran Labuschagne

I stared at the chain dangling before me. Did I dare? I took a breath then yanked it, dumping a bucket of ice cold water on my head. I shivered. Holy shit that was cold. I smothered a small yelp. It was so invigorating, I wanted to do it again. This was how I was celebrating my son’s 18th birthday.

Instead of throwing him a huge party or buying him an expensive gift, I did something most people would find selfish—I spent the money on myself. I booked a room at the five-star Hotel Las Arenas Balneario Resort, off the coast of Valencia, Spain, where I signed up for a water cure to welcome in the next phase of my life.

Creating a New Ritual

I’d read that hydrotherapy, including hot and cold water treatments, has lots of health benefits, like stimulating circulation, reducing all those aches and pains, and improving mental health. It was time to rejuvenate my mind, body, and soul. I had raised a functioning, well-rounded human from birth, and a water cure seemed like the perfect way to both celebrate and ritualize this transition.

As I continued through the sensation shower with cool jets spraying my body, I thought about how my son has been the most important person in my life since the day I saw two pink lines on the pregnancy stick. I had spent the last 18 years putting my own needs aside, enduring sleepless nights worrying about my child’s health, education, and future. Every decision I’ve made since then has been with his well-being in mind. This means that at best, my needs came second, but really they were way beyond that—somewhere after the dog but before the less delicate houseplants, like the cactus.

My kid is an international soccer player who graduated at the top of his class, he’s navigated serious injuries, setbacks, and failures, and he approaches the world with a rare sensitivity and a deep curiosity. He’s made this happen with his own grit and determination, but I think it’s fair to take partial credit. Sometimes when we’re joking with one another I remind him, “I made you! And, I kept you alive. Do you know how hard it is to keep another human alive? You turned out great!” Then I give him a smooch on his wavy blond head and we both laugh.

But in the process of making sure my family had everything they needed to thrive, I had lost sight of my own dreams and desires. I became invisible. Mothers talk about how proud we are of our kids and all they have accomplished, but we never mention what we’ve given up to make that happen. And when we do, it feels like no one is listening.

Flipping the Empty Nest Narrative

As I warmed up in the sauna I allowed myself to feel grateful for what I had achieved as a mother. I let the guilt and shame for all the mistakes I had made during those years melt away with the intense heat, and I thought about what I wanted the next chapter of my life to look like.

Being a mother means wearing your heart outside your body. When you watch your heart walking away on his next adventure, hop a plane, or decide he doesn’t need your help anymore, there’s a sense of pride that you raised an independent kid. But let’s be real; it’s also devastating. What’s left when the most important person in your life no longer needs your daily attention?

Before my son was born, I was a world traveler, I climbed glaciers, I attended literary salons, I even danced on a few bars—okay, we don’t have to rehash everything. I’m not interested in reinventing myself. I know exactly who I am. I just haven’t seen too much of her in the last 19 years.

I toweled off and stretched out on the mosaic heated bench, another station of the water cure circuit. Social media has created an empty nest narrative of a pining and lonely mom waiting for her kid to text or call, (kids, if you’re reading this, text your mom now,) but what if we flipped that narrative on its head? What if when our kids went out into the world, instead of mourning the beautiful things we’re letting go of, we took a moment to remember who we once were and how we can get that back?

It’s Time to Take Care of Myself

I headed to the next station: the cold water pool. I dipped my toe in trying to gather the courage to submerge my whole body. I was warm and relaxed from the mosaic bench; did I really want another shock to my system? I went for it.

About 12-1/2 seconds later, when my brain started to freeze, I made my way out of the pool. My internal organs felt like they were shriveling up, but I envisioned inflammation leaving my body.

I slid into the warm relaxation pool with a vibrating metal bed. As my jaw unclenched, I released tension that I didn’t even know I had been holding. I wanted to continue to explore this feeling of what it was like to take care of myself without guilt. Not just for 90 minutes once every few weeks or months or years, but for the rest of my life.

I’ve provided my son with many of the skills he needs to make good decisions in life and to accomplish what he sets out to do. And I’ll always be there and show up for him, even if he just thanks me with a text that says, “K.”

Now I’ve earned the right to focus on what I want to accomplish in the years I have left. Not only do I want to celebrate the hard work I put into raising my kid, but I want to—and deserve to—reward myself by forging new adventures. Chances are, if I don’t, no one else will.

Reclaiming My Path

I reluctantly stepped out of the relaxation pool and eyed the next station—the ice fountain—a sink full of ice for the hands. Who thinks of these things? I could skip it, and head to the aromatherapy shower, but then I remembered what a close friend once told me, “Sometimes you need to face the discomfort before you get to the good stuff.” I stuck both hands into the ice and held them there until it was physically painful.

My time was almost up. I had to decide on the grand finale. To my left was the steam room, and to my right was the outdoor waterfall pool where glorious warm water rains down on you as the Mediterranean sun kisses your face. I was surrounded by choices. I walked to the edge of the waterfall pool; now all I had to do was take the plunge.

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