From the outside, my summer didn't look like anything special. I went to work, took some summer classes, and came home to an empty apartment. When the summer started, the idea of being alone depressed me. I remember the weird feeling in my chest when the semester ended, both my roommates moved out early, and I was freshly back in contact with my ex (a bad idea), simply because I couldn't stand being alone.
Worst of all, being by myself suddenly made me so uncomfortable, and I couldn't understand why. I prided myself on being independent; I'd spent years relying only on myself, yet this was the first time I felt I almost had to prove it.
My roommates were gone, friends had gone back home, and my family was hours away. It sounded freeing in theory, yet it only felt daunting.
The moment I realized I would truly be alone, I drove the seven hours home on a spur-of-the-moment decision. I made it all the way to the stop sign by my parents' house before realizing the weird feeling in my chest wasn't going to disappear just because I did. I knew then it was something I had to face head-on; no amount of running, talking to my ex, or feeling sorry for myself was going to solve it.
So I enjoyed my week there and came back to San Marcos, the feeling still heavy in my chest, but now accompanied by the determination to figure it out.
Trial Run
It wasn't easy, and it definitely didn't happen immediately.
I never knew what it really meant to work on myself until then. It took time before I realized how much I'd relied on distractions — new problems to focus on externally, activities to fill my time, anything to stop the onslaught of thoughts I faced every day.
For the first half of summer, I did just that. I filled my time with any activity I could find, besides the loneliness I didn't want to accept. I didn't realize at the time that it was hurting me rather than helping, that all the avoiding was simply delaying what I needed to face.
I felt I was succeeding, that a full schedule and dwelling on past problems was what I needed. Yet it was during the second half of summer that I decided I didn't have to do that to be happy.
The Turning Point
I let go of trying to figure everything out. I spent time truly sitting alone in my quiet apartment, and I stopped delaying the inevitable. I focused my thoughts back on myself, wondering what would happen if I stopped filling my time with anything and everything and instead just dedicated that time to me.
What was it I truly wanted? What did I see for myself, and who did I want to be? I found I didn't understand much about myself once I asked these questions. I couldn't picture what I was working toward, or imagine my life beyond the problems that constantly consumed my mind. All I could think about was what I lacked and how I felt it would never be solved.
So I decided to be patient, to take it day by day and trust that with time I could figure it out. Some days it was hard to trust. I'd get lost in my head again, focused on everything I wasn't doing right. Some days were heavier, when I realized how I might have failed or lost my footing in the past. It was hard to accept the times I might have hurt others; harder still to accept that even when I felt justified, it didn't mean I wasn't in the wrong.
The Other Side
But all of it taught me something. The pain, the critiques, the laughs, and the happiness — it all created who I've become. And who I've become is finally someone I'm not afraid to spend time with, even with no distractions.
I know I'll keep growing, even further than where I am now. It won't be easy, and there's so much more to learn about who I truly am. But I'm grateful for the foundation I've built, and the trust I've created with myself. It's proven I can do it all again if I need to, as long as I come home to myself at the end of the day.