If you buy through our links, we may earn an affiliate commission. This supports our mission to get more people active and outside.Learn about Outside Online's affiliate link policy

(Photo: alvaro gonzalez | Getty)
Being part of a bachelorette party feels kinda similar to what I imagine it’s like participating in the Olympics. Months prior, there’s lots of coordination with your teammates (aka fellow bachelorettes), you travel to a lively city, are given a packed schedule, and wear uniforms to identify you (matching bridesmaid shirts, anyone?).
Yet no matter how much you think you’ve prepared, the actual event calls for physical, mental, and social stamina unlike anything demanded of you before.
Sure, you’re still happy to be there—or you will be happy you were there once you’re allowed to go home. In the meantime, you’re going to need a few minutes alone to detach from the group’s giddy energy, the blasting horn opening of “Man! I Feel Like a Woman!” on repeat, and the, er, explicit party paraphernalia, especially if you’re an introvert like me.
Enter a weekend-salvaging 3-minute meditation break that settled my flight instinct (like, literally, I was fantasizing about my flight home) and allowed me to survive and thrive in a pre-wedding ritual.
I was touched that my friend included me in her bridal party and excitedly anticipated our weekend in New Orleans. And my fellow bridesmaids-to-be were incredible—funny, interesting, good-spirited. But I came up against some internal struggles throughout the trip, including:
I worried I’d become the Negative Nelly of the group due for running back to the hotel from a concert because I forgot my earplugs, intermittently opting for sparkling water over cocktails, and spraying myself with sunscreen so publicly I’m surprised I wasn’t called out for damaging the ozone layer.
Although I felt weird prying myself away from the group, I knew I’d feel even weirder if I went the whole weekend without an intentional break. Throwing a quick “I’ll be right back!” to the group with no additional context, I hauled ass to my hotel room. Once I’d broken away, I was so drunk on my newfound freedom I wanted to curl up in bed, watch Friends reruns, and text in sick to the rest of the events.
“Focus,” a familiar voice within echoed. I scrambled over to the small couch in the corner, sat on the edge, and took a deep breath. I set the timer on my phone for three minutes, then closed my eyes. Whenever I got distracted, I talked to myself like I was a little kid or, actually, like what I really was: a stressed out adult.
Within the confines of those few minutes, I let go of the obligations, duties, and social constructs awaiting me back at the party. I could simply be myself so that when I returned to the party, I could feel more like myself.
Whether you’re at a chaotic celebration or just need a few distraction-free minutes, the practice below might help you turn around a downward-spiraling weekend for the better.