Solitude of the Soul

Last year I was in a different National Park… on a different trail… having a different experience…

I’m alone on this trail now. A different mountain to climb.

I know the stoics found wisdom in being alone but the easiest way to crush my spirit is solitude. I honestly don’t know how solitary confinement is still used in the prison system today… just icing people out is absolute cruelty. It feels like my blood is ice cold and my insides are dropping thousands of feet per second. It’s distressing. It’s torture. I feel like I’m there now, looking for any crumb or any morsel of human contact.

Being on the trail alone, I find it unsettling. I have moments of peace, following by the swell of panic in my chest. I end up grounding myself to the nature around me… listen to the birds, feel the cool breeze… and it makes the solitude feel less suffocating.

I always thought adventures were the best when they’re shared. Today though, I needed to go solo. I needed to sit with my discomfort and stop running from my pain. I needed to stare it in the face.

I’m not broken though, I’m just wounded. The old me would have taken that wound, and settled. Would have just accepted it and caved into resignation. I still have that pull, but the new me uses it as fuel. Like an animal who’s cornered.

I don’t know why I picked isolation now. I guess I have to in order for the pain to not be so unbearable. To become accustomed to it… like an hour into a tattoo session where the pain settles down.

All of your insecurities get so loud in the silence of human contact, until it’s all you can hear. I start to wonder if I’m in solitude because I’m an horrible person. That people don’t like me. It plagues an old wound I worked hard to heal, this feeling that people secretly dislike me. Old me would let them win, but the new me shouts “Oh yeah!? So what!?” My whole life I’d wanted to be a good person, good partner, a good friend… I’ve often stumbled at these. But I’ve always continued to show up to try again. I know these uncomfortable thoughts are just my mind trying to create stories to complete missing data… and they aren’t based in truth.

As I lumbered up to my fourth summit of the peak, I dove deep into my own thoughts. This confident, sure of herself woman has taken a back seat for a while. I’ve grown comfortable…. I let my guard down… stuck in the middle of no wanting to be too much but also not having my needs met. Not enough or too much… I find myself constantly stuck in this world… each of which is fueled by a fear of rejection. Never asking for my needs. Neutering myself… and nobody finds that attractive. I need to go back to be assertive. This grief woke that assertive person back up in me… caught me resting for a minute… caught me weak.

Don’t be too far. Don’t be too skinny. Don’t be too loud or quiet… don’t intimidate people. Don’t be too rough, placate their feelings.

I’m so tired of not being too much that I settle for perpetually not being enough.

But I am enough. I am more than enough.