Finally alone in Yosemite.
I drove for several hours up and down a mountain just to sit alone by the fire, and hug my soul.
It was January 2022 and I just needed that hug. For a girl who loves love, and loves to love people, I realized that I hadn’t properly loved myself until that fireplace in Yosemite. At least, not in the way that I needed.
We all have our reflections as the year comes to a close — we all look back at what has transpired over the past 12 months and ultimately, feel good or feel bad. As I look back at my year, I honestly feel relieved.
I’m no longer scared to be alone — to do life alone.
I’m incredibly privileged to be loved by some good humans, and for the most part, to be surrounded by good humans all the time. The one thing that I have noticed over the course of this year is that I need a lot of alone time.
In order to be the best woman I can be for myself, the best employee I can be for the firm, the best daughter I can be for my parents, the best partner I can be to someone else, and ultimately the best mother — alone time sits at the very top of the list.
Consider it a great, self-imposed isolation that produces the most exceptional of results: a calm, thoughtful, grounded, and nurturing woman.
Allow me to give you some context.
There is always a dancefloor involved when Antonio asks me to meet him out in Torino.
Over the past three years, I’ve lost a lot of the things I thought I wanted both personally and professionally. By April 2021, my confidence was in pieces and my decision-making wasn’t very good. The fear that I had of being alone, of dealing with loss alone led me to surround myself with a lot of people. I cooked, I baked, I hosted, I joined parties, I went on dates, I traveled, and I had people visit — essentially, I refused to be alone.
It really wasn’t until after a horrendous trip to the ER in November of last year that I decided to isolate myself. Not fully, of course, but enough to confront my fears, because as I have come to understand — people are just noise. Sometimes.
I’ve spent the better part of this year alone, usually looking out from a terrace at the people walking below me, or from an airport gate, watching bags get loaded onto a plane. In those moments of quiet with no friends or family around, I’ve had the opportunity to make small, but concrete plans for myself. I remember going for a run around Como lake in St. Paul one morning this spring and deciding to actively look for a job outside of Italy, even if it hurt me to do so. During dinner alone in Poland this summer, I decided that I no longer cared if my life involved a relationship or if I ended up being somebody’s wife. There was also that time hiking under the hot sun outside of Abu Dhabi when I chose to let go of my dream to be a size 4, and instead, focus on taking care of my health (also because I love pasta too much to stop eating it).
These may all seem like small, insignificant things, but in the greater vision of what we hope our lives to be, these beliefs — or habits — deeply hinder both our success, and our happiness. And well, this girl really does enjoy being happy and successful.
Some alone time on the beach.
This year, I’ve learned to enjoy being alone. I’ve learned to appreciate coming home alone, soaking into a steamy bath with candles lit, and a little Chris Stapleton on the speakers nearby. I’ve learned to enjoy my morning commute into the city, sitting alone on the platform at the train station with a hot cup of coffee and nothing to do but look out at the Hudson River. There is a powerful grounding that happens on those mornings — like a calm before the storm.
A quick online search of Merriam-Webster will define isolation as, “the action of isolating; the condition of being isolated.”
The condition of being isolated.
My current state of being.
Condition. A working order or a state of being. My state of being has been grounding this year, and because I’ve taken dedicated time to be with myself, I’ve been able to go back into the world and give of myself in a way I don’t think I ever have before: cautiously.
Through this great isolation of 2022, I have learned that I am allowed to be cautious of people, places, and things — even of the ones I already know, and already love. In a world of constant push for connection, communication, and the occasional FOMO, I’ve enjoyed a year of “stepping back” when it felt right, or better yet, when my mind and body needed it the most.
I know that this essay is not substantive — you were probably looking for me to spill the beans of something far more complicated or share another recipe — in all honesty, I was going to. However, I’m still isolating.
I feel that life is going to change faster than I can expect in 2023, and so, I am taking all the time alone that I need, in order to prepare for those changes.
So there: she’s isolating until further notice, preferably in a hot steamy bath with Daniel Kahneman, the book, not the man.
Though it has crossed my mind.