A SEASON OF SOLITUDE

Howdy y’all, I’m back after a brief-ish intermission. The truth is, I ran away.

I spent the summer as far away as my savings could take me. Then I moved across the country.

The morning of my college graduation I learned I would be relocating to the Bay Area days after returning from my solo trip to Dubrovnik, Croatia.

Why Croatia? I had fifty more dollars in my savings account than the flight and AirBnB cost, and everywhere else on my bucket list would have put me in debt. Luckily Croatia’s coffee isn’t very expensive either.

Why California? It was the furthest option from the 150-mile radius I spent the first 22 years of my life.

Why alone? The original answer was “to do something that scares me.” After spending five months alone I realize that solitude is not scary to me, it is freeing. I now see that I was just running away. I wanted to be invisible, to hide in plain sight, something that was difficult to do in previous chapters.

So I went to Croatia in hopes that not knowing a soul there would liberate my own. I assumed I would shed the pressure I put on myself when I’m physically close to those who know me, and the expectations that come with proximity. Spoiler, that didn’t happen.

I was sitting on a balcony overlooking the gorgeous Dubrovnik waterfront planning for this feeling to fade. But the feeling was just as loud as it was in my college town, in my hometown, and it’s still blaring in California, three thousand miles away.

Now, I see the feeling lives in the only place I can’t run away from — between my ears. The need to escape was fueled by the expectations I have for myself, not the expectations of others. I wonder why we can be so much harder on ourselves than we even consider being on others? Although I’m not convinced this is a bad thing.

The less we cater to others’ expectations the more energy we have to focus on our own values. Running away was helpful in proving that physical distance does not quench a thirst for self-validation. Liberation can only be granted within.

In hindsight, I didn’t need to go to another continent or coast, Mark Manson’s book The Subtle Art Of Not Giving A F*ck might have done the trick for $20 instead of $2,000. But I fell in love with another country so no regrets.

I live in California now, a dream I’ve had since I was sixteen. This level of independence is addicting; living alone is a fun challenge. My favorite part about it is that I don’t have to explain my quirks to anyone.

After spending years surrounded by the same people (lovely, incredible people), I’m learning that I can be my own support system, too.

If you feel alone, remind yourself that seasons of solitude are seasons of power — proof that you, alone, are enough.

My five weeks in Croatia were spectacular and productive. In all of my solo suppers, I found peace in solitude. I am overlooking a new balcony now, where the sun is rising over mountains filled with wind farms.

I am thinking about Seneca’s words, “What progress have I made? I have begun to be a friend to myself.”