I’ve been in Australia for a week and I’ve spent about half the time loving it, the other half wishing for a plane ride home, and almost the entirety of it alone. Like, alone alone. I think this is why they say solo travel is not for the weak, I never understood it before, but now I do. Yes, for my time here in Tassie, I do have friends, but it’s quite different to be in a town where you’re the visitor and they’re living their lives. Kane can’t skip a chemistry lecture to go hiking with me, and Abby can’t call out of work because I want her to go to the sauna with me. My friends have done a wonderful and welcoming job of weaving me into their lives where they can. Kane and I cook dinner together after he finishes homework, Abby and I play Mario Kart after she has dinner with her husband, and Julie spent her one day off a month taking me to a waterfall. I’m so grateful for the people who have made space for me in their lives here, but even with the time spent with them, I am left wanting. For the last week, I’ve sat in this house, overthinking every choice I’ve made in the last year, and procrastinating everything I said I would do once I arrived.
I get how this sounds, I really do. Young single woman, staying in a house for free, no work or responsibilities, complaining about how she has no idea what to do in her free time and moaning about no one to share it with. Yeah, when you look at it that way, it is pretty awful. I guess the way that I see it, I want to hike to these waterfalls, stare at the views from a mountain, swim in freezing water, and look over at someone, knowing we’re sharing this together. I want to share experiencing the beauty of the world with a person, whether that be a friend or a partner. I don’t like the idea of having all these experiences only in my memory, or a camera roll full of selfies and self-timed photos. And maybe, maybe I need to be more honest with myself. Perhaps it’s not just about wanting someone to share memories with, maybe there’s a fear there of being independent, of doing it on my own. Maybe I’m afraid of my own company, maybe I’m afraid of what I’ll discover about myself if I take the time to truly look inside.
Earlier this week I thought to myself, “Damn, I’ve never been this lonely before”, then I immediately reality checked myself. Yes, yes I have been this lonely before. In fact, I’ve been severely lonelier than this. At the beginning of last year, when I left my then-husband and moved to a new city, I knew absolutely no one. For two months, the only social interactions I had was when I’d drive over an hour to visit my best friend, or when I’d see my roommate at the end of each day. Those months were full of days where I had nothing to do, nothing to distract myself from the pain, or my endless thoughts. I reflected back on the nights spent crying myself to sleep or the evenings where all I could do was run, and I found myself grateful that this time is a different sort of loneliness to experience. Yes, it’s hard not having the people I love here to hang out with, or even close to the same time zone; it’s hard to go all day without receiving a reply to a message. It’s hard when Thursday night comes and I’m not practicing my karaoke song, or when I’m not planning a nanny walk with Izzy; it’s difficult to know that Cassidy and Matt won’t be home to discuss our days. Leaving an entire life behind is difficult, but I’m so glad that all of those people and things are still there, should I choose to go back to them. I’m glad that I’m not lonely because of a lack in people who care.
The real question stands: What to do about this predicament? I mean, I’ve got three and a half weeks left. No matter how badly I wish at times to be back where things are comfortable, I did start this journey for a reason, and one of those reasons is to put myself in positions that aren’t always comfortable. Sure, it’s nice to be in the familiar, the predictable, but if life is always what’s expected, where’s the opportunity to grow? How do we figure out who we really are? I’m definitely the sort of person who learns better by experience; I won’t trust you if you say the flame is hot, I need to touch it for myself. Everyone said this was going to be hard, they said it’s probably not a good idea, I was advised that I might be too lonely; but I believed in myself more than I believed in them. I think, in the past week, I’ve forgotten how badly I wanted this, I’ve forgotten how strongly I believed in myself. Which means that, each day, and each hour, I have a choice: I can choose to be content with knowing myself deeper and seeing loneliness as a good thing, or I can choose to wish my circumstances were different, and I could waste my time.
The bright side is that each day presents the opportunity for new choices, and I always seem to be introspective enough to make the correct ones for myself, even if it takes a blunder or two. So yeah, I am lonely, but I’d probably still be lonely back in NC. Yeah, it’d be really cool if someone could go to all these places with me, but I’m not going to let the lack of another person keep me from experiencing something beautiful. So each morning I’m going to wake up and make my eggs with toast, drink my caramel latte, and I’m going to make the most of the time given to me here. I’m going to pay too much to park in downtown Launceston, I’ll try barre and Pilates and vinyasa yoga; I’ll walk to my new favorite smoothie shop and work my way through trying every flavor. I’ll go for runs through the insanely hilly streets, at Trevallyan, or at the Gorge. I’ll research hiking trails and waterfalls and lakes and saunas, and I will go to them. I will visit museums and get cocktails at a bar by myself; I will fill my camera roll with selfies and self-timed photos. And when it happens, I will enjoy the bowling and Mario Kart and slow nights cooking dinner with my friends. And even if it’s scary, I’ll find a way to enjoy discovering more about myself, the good and the bad. Because maybe this whole journey and move here isn’t about seeing the world, it’s about seeing how I can grow into the best version of me.
Yours Truly,
the Brightside Blonde
Trip to Shower Falls and Christmas Hills Raspberry Farm Café
One response to “Loneliness”
I laughed out loud when you said, “I won’t trust you if you say the flame is hot. I have to touch it myself.” This is truly you. I remember when you were little and your momma would tell you something, but you wouldn’t believe her and whatever she told you not to do you would do it. If she stopped you, you would get so upset. But that’s what made you day great. Because that’s how you learned and grew into the fearless, independent lady that you are today. I’m so proud of you for facing the loneliness. I’ve been where you are. I wouldn’t be who I am today had I not gotten a table for one or a single ticket to the movie. But remember, you are not alone for God is with you. I tried so hard to turn my back on God because I was so angry with myself and my life. I was mad at him, but despite myself he never left me. He stayed right there until I couldn’t take it anymore and wanted my life to be over. He saved me. When no one else was there, he was there. He was in the steam of my latte, the sweat of my beer, the spray of the waterfall, and he hiked with me to that beautiful waterfall. Molly, I don’t care if you’re thousands of miles away I’m right here cheering you on. I said it earlier and I’ll say it again. I’m so proud of you sis. Love your crazy Aunt Mandy