Alone.

I’m not used to being alone.

Before this January, I maybe, truly, only spent 3-6 months alone, and not even consecutively.

I was always in an intimate relationship with someone. I was always one in a group of people. I always lived with someone or in a shared house. I always chose this. I thought it’s because I really liked being around people. And, don’t get me wrong, I love being around people. It’s so fun and easy and comfortable for me.

I also used living with people and always being with people as a way to avoid being with myself.

This year I moved into my own space and it feels so good, in some ways. At first it was really fun and I enjoyed the much needed space. Then something happened, the silence, the aloneness; I could feel it all. I could hear all the thoughts in my mind. I could see all of the things that I did. Who I was with no one around.

It was very confronting. Not always fun. A time of rapid personal growth and expansion. Painful. Joyful. Full of death and full of life. Rich.

I see more clearly what is important to me. I see more clearly who I am and where I end and others begin. I have more trust in myself and the choices I make. I now know what it feels like to take care of myself and my needs. I also know what it feels like when I don’t.

I don’t know what is next for me, or around the corner, but whatever it is, I will take it in stride.

The funny thing is, now, I don’t ever feel alone, even when there is no one around me.