Sometimes you need to be invisible

Hey! I am Aurinna, a writer, artist, and toddler mom living in Valencia, Spain. And this is Haus of Weis, the house of domestic wisdom.

In my essays, I think about our homes and everything that happens inside them: from family life to wiping the surfaces, from building your identity to reorganising your clutter.

It is not planned me-time, it’s not big outings or day trips to look at a great natural wonder, nor is it a head massage, a fancy brunch or even a little treat.

All of these are fun, but what restores my energy the best is disappearing, going off the map for a little bit, being invisible and unavailable.

I don’t mean this to be anything dramatic. It doesn’t have to be a sudden escape to a different country, a Thelma and Louise style road trip, or turning the phone off completely for days.

What this usually means is an aimless wander around town.

Just popping out to walk. Maybe getting an iced latte. Maybe buying something I need, like shampoo or something I don’t, like flowers. Maybe sitting in a park for a little bit. Maybe coming home after 15 minutes, maybe after an hour.

What is essential, however, is that there is no schedule, no agenda, no company and no definite obligation. There is no reporting on where I am and what I am doing. There needs to be full autonomy and the possibility to follow sudden changes in moods and wants.

It is not just a question of time. It is a question of unclaimed time.

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I think there is an important difference between being alone and being invisible.

I can close the bedroom door and read for an hour. I can put on my headphones and cook something. I can have a soak in our bathtub reading Marie Claire. I can technically be alone.

But the fact that I am still reachable, that I am so close, so easily disturbed, makes this time different. I am still very much on the map, just a knock-knock or a mamamamamama away.

It is alone time yes, but it is not invisible time. I specifically need full invisibility.

Not because I want to leave my life, but because I sometimes want full autonomy within it. I want to have the assurance of only being needed by myself. Only catering for my whims.

I have always needed this kind of time. Even as a child I used to fantasise about packing a little bag and disappearing for a little while without a word. Not because I was escaping anything; my childhood home was lovely and we were very happy.

Just because the idea of not responding to anything for a while sounded so restful, so idyllic, even a little mysterious or fantastical.

As a single adult, I spent an absurd amount of time just wandering. Hours after hours. Just going in and out of shops, galleries, and coffee shops. Stopping and starting. Sitting down for 5 minutes. Looking at things, listening to music or podcasts. Walking and walking. Thinking, and then doing some more thinking.

There was no goal, and that was exactly the goal.

Then I became a mother, and this kind of time became scarce. But I still prioritise a good invisibility wander.

Even if there is cleaning, even if I have tons of work to do, invoices to send, problems to solve, I will wander first.

I will wander when I am happy or sad. When it’s so hot you can feel your kidneys sweating, and when it’s pouring down with rain.

I will still wander if I am so tired I can barely keep my eyes open. The only time I will skip it is if I am very sick, but even then the urge is there. I will keep checking my temperature to see if I can at least pop out for a magazine or a juice. Maybe also sneakily walk around the block.

It is not an optional part of my personality. It is essential. Like an arm or an eye. Like breathing or drinking two litres of water.

I think this kind of time has a big significance for me, as it ties so closely to my core values: autonomy and freedom.

Values sound like something so big, but really they are just something that should show up in the everyday, in the small repeated choices.

I need the freedom and autonomy to leave the house, to do my own thing, follow my own wants. It is the most banal and persistent way my values keep reminding me of themselves.

If I cannot do this, I start suffocating. I get cabin fever and start feeling angry and irritable. I know I become a pain for everyone, a tough hang, as they say.

The only cure is leaving the house alone. That is the very particular itch I need to scratch.

We have been asked why we live in the city with a toddler. Wouldn’t somewhere calmer be better? With a garden and fresh air? You could even find somewhere cheaper?

One of the biggest reasons I want to stay in the city is because it gives me the autonomy I want. I can pop out without making plans. I can wander several times a day without it seeming odd. I don’t have to get a metro. I don’t need a destination. I don’t need to be sensible with my time-use.

I can simply leave.

As I don’t drive, being dependent on other people’s plans to get out of the house is my idea of a very, very bad time.

This is also why remote places are surprisingly difficult for me.

We visit my own mother every summer. She lives in a little village. It is very cute. There is a garden and a sauna and nature and all the things you could want to entertain a toddler.

And yet, oh boy, do I feel the need to scratch my itch of just leaving the house and wandering without explanation.

I can go for a walk, of course. But doing a planned walk in the countryside for me feels like an outing, like an activity or just exercise. Also everyone will know where I am, as there is exactly one walking route.

The funny thing is, I am not really a keen shopper, nor do I care that much about restaurants.

But I need that backdrop, the small events around me, the energy of things happening.

I also need to blend into other city folk. Being just one unremarkable person in a crowd of strangers is freedom for me.

I want potential rather than activity. I want options to stay open.

Maybe this need lives stronger in me than in a lot of people.

But I do think a lot of us could use a little bit more unintentional, uninterrupted, uncharted and unobserved time.

Everything is supposed to be so meaningful now, so full of intention, so mapped and reported. Everything needs a goal, results or at least an explanation.

I think we have become terrible at wasting time in the best possible sense of the word. Because maybe spending unclaimed invisible time isn’t really a waste. Maybe it’s a very important reminder that our precious time really belongs to us.

Maybe not being there for others for a little while is one way of checking that you’re still there, with your wants and needs.

Maybe going off the map for other people is putting you back on your own personal map.

Maybe being invisible makes you able to see yourself a little bit clearer.

Because if you are never allowed to disappear, how will you know if you are ever actually present?

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This week, choose an errand that you would have to run anyway, and execute it in a way that is not the fastest or most efficient.

Pick a longer route to walk, pop into a fun shop to look at stuff you are not planning to buy, get a smoothie on the way, sit on a bench for a little bit, getting some sun on your face. Slow down.

Wishing you lots of love and light from the Haus of Weis, Aurinna

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