Solitude

Moon & sunset over the marsh in Newbury, Massachusetts [one of my favorite views in the world].

I am a person who greatly values solitude. Sometimes I find myself in a crowded space, craving the ability to be alone. I may shrink away from this desire at times, or self-sabotage from what I truly need, by filling my schedule and my life with activities and people. And at other times, I certainly find myself in a state of independence, when I really should be seeking others out.

I do not remember relationships being easy for me growing up. I remember struggling to find a place that felt solid and safe. I escaped into books, favorite television shows, work and school. I held emotions or thoughts in until they burst out of me in moments when I could no longer keep the cap on. I do not remember trusting many with any parts of me.

Some of this experience is my disposition and my personality type (INFJ, Type 2w3, introvert, bibliophile…on and on ). But some of it has fallen away as I have shed some layers of insecurity and uncertainty. Or as I have stepped out and experienced life in new ways. Traveling out of the country for the first time independently, and for my first experience in the place that now feels solidly like a second home (looking at you, Austria) was a formative experience for me stepping into my own. Trusting others in relationships and friendships, and experiencing reciprocation of honesty and sharing was another step in this evolution.

I now greatly value particular relationships in my life – I have people who are resolute sounding boards with similar opinions and understandings to me, who I can trust with my heart and with my thoughts. I have people who will gently and safely push me past my comfort zone when the situation requires. I have people who appreciate nature and all of the gifts it provides in moments of solitude or group expeditions. I have people who may not understand my love of sitting in silence or reading a book instead of going to a party, but who will sit alongside me through those moments. And I have people who can crowd a room, and I can be present in this space and feel as comfortable as if I were alone.

I have learned to recognize what my soul often needs from solitude. The ability to either get lost in my thoughts or still my thoughts is a requirement for my overall mental and emotional health. Time spent in nature refuels me and teaches me. A run or yoga practice will quiet my soul and bring my living body back into focus. Listening to, singing along to, or dancing with music lifts me when I need it to.

I often think of a day I spent in Vienna, when I was studying abroad there in college. I had been enjoying my time with my traveling companions, but had yet to achieve a level of comfort and friendship and trust with them. I went to bed one night, with a free day ahead, and determined that I would work through a list of experiences that I wanted to have before the week was up. I planned my route and set off that morning, working at my own pace and exploring everything on my list. It was so rewarding to realize how well I knew these streets, to bask in how much I loved this city and this culture, and to trust my own self with navigating and achieving what I desired. As it approached late afternoon, something pulled me back to the group and to our hostel. I remember showing up and having people ask where I had been that day and what I had done – I recognized that my solitude was a gift, but that it was also beautiful and uplifting to understand that I had, in fact, been missed – and that they would even have gladly joined me. I had one more item on my list for the day, and it is a place that I absolutely love to share with others. I knew none of them had yet visited, so I asked if they would be interested. They were all excited about the idea, so we set out to visit the summer palace in Vienna: Schloss Schönbrunn. I told them nothing about what to expect – and led them around the beautiful palace to see the sprawling and breathtaking gardens behind it. Sharing this experience with them brought me just as much joy as all of my solo adventures had. I sat on the edge of the gardens to read a book while they hiked up to the Gloriette. We headed back to the hostel as the sun set, and I felt tangibly buoyant and happy. It was a perfect day. And some of that perfection was found in the solitude I so greatly needed, and some of it was found in the shared experience and wonder of new friendships and new experiences.

It is amazing to acknowledge the journey I have taken in embracing the whole of what I have learned and what I need when it comes to this. I can recognize the need for solitude and the need for others, and I have so much gratitude for the trust and the expansion I have experienced in my life. It has certainly been far from perfect, and I am still (and forever) a work in progress, but I can witness every moment that brought me here with gratitude. I am thankful that I have grown to love the part of myself that craves solitude. And I am also so thankful that I now recognize the beauty and necessity in sharing this one wild, unpredictable, and glorious life with others.

Lauren & I watching the sunset from the docks in Newburyport, Massachusetts.