It’s been a minute since I’ve had time alone. Not extended seat time in the bathroom (where faking it until they catch on is a real thing) or the slow, drowsy walk from putting a toddler to bed to trying to locate my own. Real, genuine alone time: a chance to stop thinking and responding and twirling about mental checklists of things to do for all the people and creatures and spaces that command/demand/request my attention. I love them, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t also love the freedom of simply existing with nothing on the day’s agenda other than to simply BE. So it was a much welcomed gesture when the Fête des Mères rolled around this year, and I found before me, alongside a bouquet of peonies (my favorite) and an oversized bowl of viennoiserie, a certificate for a morning all to myself at La Grée Des Landes.

I first visited this heaven in the heart of Bretagne a few years ago, and I was fortunate for this to be my third visit back. Coming from Vermont where I was enveloped in nature and enjoyed a community who cared deeply about eating local, stewardship, and holistic health, I have always felt right at home at La Grée des Landes. Spa Yves Rocher, being my absolute favorite feature of this 4-star establishment, offers a pleasurable experience with two intimate indoor pools, a full menu of massage treatments, and a traditional hamman. Sweating out eight months of transition and stress in a dark, quiet room will free you.

When Romain dropped me off the Monday after the Fête des Mères holiday, I stepped out of the car struggling to leave all thoughts of potty training, work deadlines, finding a permanent place to live, buying a car, and our shipping container sitting somewhere over the Atlantic behind. Yet, the vibrant red poppies that line the entrance way path up to the front doors immediately caught my eye. Maybe it was their flamboyant curves or natural brilliance set against a field of wild grass. Either way, those dear poppies held my gaze, steadied my breath, and sedated me with their mythical charm. I was pretty much ready to float the rest of the way to Spa Yves Rocher.

Fast forward to half an hour later: I moved from the front desk (love that I’m greeted by the same manager each visit), to the changing room (you could leave me in there with my plush robe and slippers, and I’d be happy), to the hamman (solo sweating and trying not to smile too big). Next was the infinity pool, and let me be honest: I was completely transported (as expected) by the sights and sounds of moving water in such a tranquil space AND trying not to cry at our reunion (this magnificent pool and I) AND also laughing at thoughts of wouldn’t it be amazing if someone rolled up right then and there with a piña colada (like the kind we had at a rooftop hotel in Belize years ago). It’s amazing how giddy you can get after just 30 minutes of intense alone time when it’s felt like a lifetime since you’ve been able to reconnect with yourself. I can reflect back and see the versions of the self that I’ve been, that I’ve moved through with ease and equal struggle, and that I’ve worked hard to become/overcome. This reflection process helps me remember who I am, how I arrived to X point in time, and how much potential still remains for me to see, be, and do all that I conjure up (because mid-30s…I’m just getting started world). So if you happened to get a glimpse of me alone in that pool swimming laps on my back while laughing, sitting still in a corner with closed eyes talking to myself, then spontaneously jumping up to do forward somersaults like a child – well, that dear friends was reflection in action.

I’m not sure how they got me out of that pool, but at 11 AM I was putting on my tissue paper bikini bottoms and sliding under a towel for the start of my soin du corps: fifty minutes of being massaged from scalp to sole and enveloped in jojoba oil. I’m a fan of the firmest pressure one can apply while giving a massage (all the fury that my patience shakes down has to go somewhere – it’s trapped in both shoulders), and my therapist did not disappoint. She was even forgiving when a little lost in translation moment occurred, and I remained in the room an additional 15 minutes (pretty much passed out on the table with my face wedged deep into the headrest hole) while she was patiently waiting for me outside our treatment room with a nice warm cup of tea. I would rate this as one of the best massages that I’ve ever had and give bonus points to my therapist for complementing me on my French (despite my confusion later) and checking in on me just enough during the massage to let me know she cared but understood I was in the middle of some serious zen.

Once I got myself off that massage table and said goodbye to Spa Yves Rocher, my next stop was lunch with Romain, who dropped in to join me just in time. The hotel’s restaurant prides itself on local, organic cuisine, and seeing how there is a serious garden on the property, I was eager to reap the rewards. We were warmly welcomed by the manager, and it’s taken for granted a lot, but that first interaction really sets the tone for the meal (and he continued to frequent our table throughout the meal). I can’t remember exactly what I ordered – and the menu had some funky naming conventions that I just went with – but I can tell you that everything was delicious. Each plating was extremely well done and thoughtful, and service took place for each guest at the same time. This meant we were all served at once, so there wasn’t a big hustle of coming and going on the restaurant floor from the kitchen, which I liked. Noteworthy items: fennel and apple (separately) used in creative ways, a starter of mushroom soup that had a little island of some magical bread ball smack in the middle of the bowl, and a thoughtful waiter who brought me a new expresso on the outside deck when my clumsy knees hit our table and sent my first cup flying.

I left La Grée des Landes with a clear head, jojoba oil glow, and few coffee stains on my jeans. Mind you, this was only a half-day visit, so I can’t help to imagine what wonders an entire weekend away would bring: unplugged, unattached, and undeterred from focusing on the self in a world that is often very demanding. But regardless, I returned back to my toddler and family and work and world with a bit more space and capacity to engage and share – and peacefully pull over on to a roadside stop and remain chill when Nina peed her pants all over her car seat seconds after telling us she didn’t need to go. Taking time to become the best version of this original self really does allow me to give the best version of all my selves (mother, wife, daughter, sister, daughter in law, friend, colleague, etc.) to the many people I love in my life. They deserve it, and I enjoy it. So if there is any question in your mind about whether you should take the afternoon off to take advantage of a nice sunny day solo in the park – or not feel guilty spending a half day alone at a spa, let me just remind you to do it. Return to you. Then return to them.