Dear Byron Bay,

Just another blond girl here, reporting on the ups and downs of ‘being on holiday’ in paradise…

I’ve taken myself away on a ten day holiday alone. I realised that what I’ve been craving over the past couple of months is stillness and time, and so I created it. Off I headed last Saturday, surfboards and bikinis in tow, to one of my favourite healing spots – Byron Bay.

As I departed for my journey, I allowed myself to consider, “How can I spend adequate time alone to create space for the new without being taken over by the debilitating choke hold of loneliness?” It’s a valid question after all.

I’m sorry loneliness, I don’t want to make you the villain here, but honestly, you’re one of my hardest friends to spend time with and your worst character trait is that you show-up uninvited.

I’ve repeatedly filled up days with to-do lists and obligations to avoid hanging out with you, and yet, you always call to remind me that I promised we would spend time together. 

Being alone without feeling lonely is an art, a practice, a commitment. At times, I’m quite good at it.

I love my space. I love waking up when I want to and eating what I want and surfing when I feel like it and laying in bed and staring at the ceiling or sitting in a restaurant reading a book and sipping a delicious red all by myself. Not everyone allows herself to be seen in the world alone. I’m comfortable alone. At times I’ve chosen it and practiced it. I haven’t been afraid of it.

…and, being alone isn’t always easy. In an unexpected moment it opens me up to the vulnerability highlighted by my friend, loneliness.

We all have this friend. We are born with her and we leave with her. She doesn’t go away, she might hide herself behind a curtain of temporary hugs, but when we close our eyes, only she is there with us. She’s very loyal.

I don’t intend to insult her. In fact, there’s nothing wrong with her at all. She is a vital part of my humanness. When I am aware of her presence, she helps to reveal the unnecessary and imaginary stories confabulated by my mind. The truth is, after all, I am always alone and I’m never alone.

When I’m sitting amongst a crowd of friends I can feel connected or I can feel alone. I can be making love to my partner and I can feel seen, heard and touched or, I can feel alone and so the question remains, what is the factor that suddenly makes me feel lonely?

Last weekend heading up north, I relished in the time to myself. I loved driving for six hours singing out loud to oldies, humming and hawing to podcasts and daydreaming for ages on end. I was alone and I felt happy.

The second day on the road, as the sun started to set, streams of light peered around the clouds, warming the entire horizon with a peachy glow. Suddenly, the confident peacefulness was interrupted by my friend loneliness who appeared to remind me, “Hey! You! Look….isn’t that pretty, isn’t life pretty? What a shame that there’s no one sitting beside you to properly enjoy this moment.”

I considered pulling the car over and taking a photo for Instagram. Sharing the moment with my friends online could easily bandaid the belief that somehow observing the beauty by myself wasn’t enough.

And I didn’t.

I looked at the sunset and watched it drench the sky in purple and then I watched it and watched it, and continued to watch it until the oranges were drowned by darker hues of violet and the light dimmed and the outlines of the mountain range became clear edges, so sharply focused that they cut the dimensions between land and sky.

As I continued to let myself drive and watch the sun disappear for another night of rest, that feeling of being alone in the world and somehow failing because no one was beside me started to dissipate and settle.

In total darkness, my friend who had appeared so unexpectedly was barely visible and I remembered that every moment of beauty is a gift and I felt peaceful and happily alone once again.

Xx

(Image credit: Matthew Sullivan Something_to_see_here_1 flickr)