To Be Alone, Or Not to Be Alone

I’m laughing now, but I was crying last night. I had a pretty emotional evening, and then proceeded to write what I thought was the most raw and honest post about being human. And then I accidentally deleted it.

So there I was, alone with a bottle of wine and my tears, crying at the loss of what I thought was my blogging masterpiece.

I don’t think I can re-create the words, but I’ll share my thoughts from this morning.

I have been back in San Francisco for a pretty short time, and I have had a tremendous amount of anxiety about it. I thought I would be so excited to see all my friends and share about my experiences, but instead I have closed myself off.

I had a grand plan to make a Facebook post and share where I’ll be so that I can see as many people as possible, and instead I did nothing. I haven’t texted anyone and I haven’t made a post, so instead I spent most of the past two days alone.

I don’t hate being alone. I was thinking about going to the movies alone, going to the park alone, and going to dinner alone. As much as I want to see people, I also like doing things on my own. The thing is, I’m worried that it’s too last minute to make plans, and the grand idea of seeing everyone will instead turn out to be me waiting at a bar alone and no one showing up. As much as I like to be alone, I don’t like to be alone if I’m expecting people.

So instead of making myself vulnerable and setting expectations to see people, I have chosen to be alone. Last night, I bought a cheap bottle of wine and went home to cook for myself. I never cook, so it was a challenge and I was proud of myself for doing it. Even though I kind of wanted to be out, the idea of the Saturday night crowds made the decision to stay in even easier.

And then, after half the bottle was gone, I began to feel lonely. I lived in Mykonos for almost three months and didn’t feel lonely, yet spending time in San Francisco, a place where I lived for almost seven years, has made me feel the loneliest.

Maybe it’s because I no longer live here. I don’t have a home. I’ve never had this feeling before, and maybe that’s part of the anxiety of seeing people. If they ask for my future plans, I don’t have any past August 6th. While I’m seeing it as exciting and something to look forward to, the thought of trying to explain myself feels draining.

Despite my love for solitude, though, today I will challenge myself to connect with friends and prevent the lonely girl with a bottle of wine from re-emerging tonight. So, even though I don’t have my (what I thought at the time) incredible, written masterpiece, here’s some insight to the anxious and lonely human side of me.