I took a midlife crisis vacation. It made me realize how I want to live the rest of my life.

• One day, I stopped and thought how I had let my life become what it was.
• I decided to take a solo trip and left my kids with their dad.

I sat down to drink my coffee and couldn't ignore the pit in my stomach. "I don't like this couch. It wasn't even my decision to own it," I thought.

A sense of dread took over me: a monotonous day at my dead-end job, bills to pay, carpooling the kids from activity to activity, and too much small talk with the other suburban moms.

How did I get here? I looked around me and felt like a stranger in my own life. This wasn't the life I wanted.

I was having a midlife crisis

Midlife crises are usually associated with things such as wrinkles and gray hairs — and yes, I have those, and no, I don't like them. But it isn't because I wish I looked younger (though I do).

The reason I cringe at my wrinkles is that they're harsh reminders that time moves too quickly — reminders that there are more years behind me than ahead.

On that day, on my small, navy couch, I suddenly felt like a bystander in my own life and couldn't help wonder: Is it too late to really start living?

I knew I needed to make some serious changes, but I wasn't sure how. The only thing I knew for certain was that it required some soul-searching. So I packed a bag, left my kids with their dad, disconnected from all things screen-related, and planned a solo trip. I knew traveling alone would be uncomfortable and that the discomfort would pair well with soul-searching.

The trip didn't look like what I had envisioned, but it gave me what I needed

I checked into a fancy hotel, which offered all the luxurious amenities of the good life: fine dining, sophisticated art, concierge service, and a full spa.

I was ready to indulge.

I planned on sightseeing, window-shopping, reading, and writing. I told my kids I would be less available by phone than usual; I wanted to see who I was when I wasn't a mom. I wanted to escape the life I thought I hated and explore what my ideal life might look like. I expected to return home with a blueprint in hand. This would be my amazing new start.

Instead, I sat in silence for nearly three days. I spoke with my children only once a day. I ate dinner alone. I didn't sightsee or shop or read or write. I spent a lot of time lying in bed, thinking, feeling, and analyzing.

I thought that a massage, peace, and quiet would feel relaxing and fulfilling, and they did, to some degree. But by day two, I felt a void in my heart and soul. The days felt long, my mind wandered, and anxiety set in. I missed my kids terribly. I missed my bedroom, my front porch where I drink my coffee, and my blue couch. I didn't miss work (not even a little), but I did miss the 9-to-5 structure.

I wanted love

I tried and tried to decide what I would do differently. What did I want to be when I grew up? Where did I want to live? What kind of couch did I really want?

I realized that all I ever really wanted was love: marriage, kids, and livelihood all around. And then it hit me. The couch that I hated so much? That couch was love. It was a gift from my mother at a time when I didn't have enough money to buy one myself — unconditional love.

I was surrounded by it everywhere, from my kids and sisters and parents, even from myself. Maybe I didn't love my job or living in Simsbury, Connecticut, but those details don't make the life.

Sometimes we need to step away from the life we have to see that it's everything we ever wanted. Sometimes we need to sit in the deafening silence to see how much we love and need the noise. Sometimes we need a gray hair and a wrinkle to remind us that there's so much life left to live. Even if there is only one day left, I can live a whole lot in that one day.

That's my new midlife motto: Live life to the fullest. It's not about the job or the house or the car or the couch. It's about experiences, love, and laughter. Those are the details that make my life — my wonderful midlife life.