The freedom of anonymity

There's something about being away, on holiday, that gives a real freedom.  Of course the absence of daily chores, the distance from work and work worries, the fact that you don't actually need to do anything you don't want to, all that helps.  It allows you to breathe, breathe deeply, just breathe, and shed all those worries and burdens we carry around with us every day.

But for those of us who are infertile, who don't have children, I think the anonymity of being in a strange place, with no-one who knows you or cares about you, can bring a special freedom.  In a resort in Thailand, I've found we rarely exchange words with any of the other guests.  They're tied up either with their family groups, or with themselves as couples, just as we are with each other (and with our e-readers).   We give them their space, as they give us our space.  And that is enormously freeing.  For a week, I haven't had to deal with anyone who knows me, who knows that I can't have children, that I had losses.  For a week I haven't had to face any curious questions about whether we have children, I haven't been "Mali the Childless."  I've been free to be me.

In fact, not only am I free to be me, but I'm free to be me at the most inner core of my being.  There's no pity or sympathy or judgement or assumptions about anything - my childless state or my career or my waist-line or  style of dress or size of feet.  I'm just me.  It's free.  And it's good.  I wish I could be me more often.