I live in an amazing place. Eugene, Oregon. A bit over an hour in one direction and you're at the coast. A bit over an hour in the other and you're in the mountains. Stay right here and you have buttes to hike, rivers to float, ponds to fish in and a strange little town to just swim in and enjoy the oddness. I love it. Yesterday, I took the mountain route and went up to some waterfalls. I parked at a reservoir at the bottom of a trail and sat there for a bit by myself. Watched a family of ducks teach the babies to dive. Watched a family of humans teach their young children to fish. And then I began hiking. Alone.
It's amazing what happens when you take the time to be with yourself. There's a danger in spending too much time in your own head, however, it can be equally as damaging to avoid yourself too. So I got out of my head and into my body, yet back in my head at lovely little stops where I took a moment to REALLY look, REALLY breathe, REALLY think and write and meditate and just "be."
This new venture into single life can be fraught with dangerous self-talk. I'm finding friends who panic at the idea of being lonely. Of never finding love. My father worries for me... that I won't find that connection with someone. I have friends asking me when I'll date, if I'll date. So why don't I care? Why am I not panicking? Why was I so happy, so at peace, so utterly joyful yesterday just sitting and hiking by myself? My self talk can quickly get me into thinking something is WRONG with me that I'm just fine. I'm actually quite happy.
Friends who have been single longer tell me it's because it's new. Just wait until I've been alone for years. Wait until I go a long time without arms to hold me when I need a lift. I have friends who fill their every free moment with activity, activity, activity in a mad rush to fill themselves. And I keep looking at myself wondering, does it mean I'm depressed if I'm not getting OUT there? Joining gyms and taking classes and going on dates and, and, and. This is what I mean by too much time in your own head. We humans were blessed with brains that think, however, we often overshoot our mark and get into overthinking. Like if we mull something long enough and weigh it enough, we'll FINALLY pick the right choice. I'm honestly starting to think my heart does the better thinking and my head needs to shut the hell up. My heart said hike alone. My heart says I'm not lonely. My heart says I'm joyful and I actually REALLY like this woman I've met named Mariska Cooper.
When you were younger, did you dream of what you'd be? I did. And I dreamt of living alone in a small place on the Oregon Coast writing. You may think that sounds lonely. I didn't. I honestly imagined kids would somehow be involved. I imagined good friends and lovers... many, or just one. But I didn't imagine myself married. And it didn't seem lonely to me. Recently, a friend and I discussed the number of unhappy people we know and the number of divorces and he said so many of us get stuck in that choice between "annoyance and loneliness". He was saying there were no easy choices... it's hard to go it alone and hard to make the compromises that come with marriage. I kinda had to call bullshit on that. It's an awfully negative way to frame it, quite honestly, and I've discovered (as I'm finding me) that I am naturally positive, optimistic and downright joyful. I'm silly and playful and I love to laugh. I think our choices are how we frame them. And I'm framing mine in a positive light. Is the road I'm choosing a hard one? Sure... in some ways. But like any good hike, the path with the steeper climb often leads to a more beautiful summit. He calls me brave to make the choice I made... divorcing with kids. Maybe it is. I don't know. Brave or not... I needed to be the best woman and mother I could be. I was dragging down the ship, I had to stop being the anchor.
I don't think of what I've done as choosing to "go it alone". What's lonely about my time with my children? What's lonely about spending time with friends who CHOOSE to spend their time with me and carve out that time? What's lonely about visiting my parents, hanging with my sister, going on a fun date or two if someone intrigues me enough to say yes and not just because I "need to get out there"? I'll tell you what... there's NOTHING lonely about it. It's how you view it. Truly. And why is it bad to be home on a Friday night but not a Tuesday night? It wasn't bad that I cleaned Friday night so I could have an awesome hike yesterday. It wasn't bad that I had drinks with a friend on Thursday night, but no one to come home to last night. I've thoroughly enjoyed myself these past few days. These past couple weeks actually. I'm not distressed at the lack of a body in bed next to me. I'm not sad at the lack of arms to hold me... my kids give the best hugs anyway.
And maybe it is because it's new. Maybe I'm just a little different. I don't know. What I do know is... travel alone folks. Once in a while. Whether you're single or married or have kids or none. Whether you live in a big city or small beautiful place. Travel alone. Don't be afraid of you. Don't be afraid to really, really like who you are and SAY it. We are taught to be careful of too much alone time. We are taught it is conceited to like yourself too much. Always give to others and forget yourself. But as my therapist once said, "Note that they say on the airplane to put your oxygen mask on FIRST before helping your kids or those around you. You can't help someone else if you're dead, so take care of you too."
I turn 41 in August and I'm finding no shame in saying that I REALLY like me. I feel more beautiful than I have ever felt. Whether that beauty is inward or outward, I don't care. I have never felt more beautiful. I like that I'm a goofball. I like that I love Star Wars still, I dance alone in my kitchen, I'll always try a handstand if there's a big enough stretch of grass and I'll eat Fruit Loops for dessert. I love that, if I can find one, I'll walk around in some fluffy costume with wings and a tiara just because my daughter wants me to. And I like the woman I hiked with yesterday - me. She was damn good company.
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