I imagine you’re probably here because you’ve been following my adventures on Instagram or Facebook – the most recent big journey being my move to Australia and staying with a friend I met only once, in October 2022, on the top of a mountain, during my first solo backpacking/hiking trip.

 A common theme I bring up in my posts and actively explore within myself these past few years has been my ability to find comfort within solitude.  I’d say I’ve always naturally been a more introverted + independent individual, and have always enjoyed time alone, but I think that alone time looked very different from what it has evolved into.  Alone time for me used to be having the house to myself for an hour, going on walks around the neighbourhood, going to the gym, reading in the park – the more typical “solo” activities anyone might find themselves in.  It wasn’t until 2020 of all years that I found myself learning to be more mindful with how I was spending my time alone.  Teaching myself how to become more in-tune with my mind-body connection, understanding where thoughts/feelings/emotions were coming from and how to sit with them; allowing them to pass through me as they needed to.

Now the year is pretty ironic, you’re probably thinking “well of course you learned to be comfortably alone starting in 2020.  It was pandemic year. We were all alone.”  But I didn’t actually really experience covid in the way a lot of the world did.  When we first went into lockdown I was drowning in the last 1.5 months of my undergrad, finishing my grad project while living at home with my family, so I didn’t have time to even experience what groceries with empty shelves felt like.  Then, starting May, I was off to Yahk for tree planting, where I was set up in a camp with ~40ish other people for 2 months, in middle of nowhere, banned from leaving the camp (covid protocols), and meeting the girls who would quite quickly become some of my lifelong and absolute best friends in the whole world.  It was easy to forget the world was in chaos.  Then, when I came back, restrictions were pretty well lifted, and summer was in full swing. I was working at a yoga studio, and then soon getting ready to move into a house with 3 other friends. I was quite fortunate in that I never really experienced the loneliness many people struggled through during that time. 

For me, I think I actually craved the solitude.  The space where you can breathe a little deeper, acknowledge your feelings more, and really listen to the thoughts running through your mind.  The space where you become so in tuned with all your senses, they connect.  They’ve learned how to work together and allow you to just be, observe and navigate through all the good and bad that arise.  I spent so much time after my mom passed just burying myself in school, prepping for planting, moving (twice in 4 months), and friends, that I had so much disturbance and unrest rattling throughout my mind and body.  I had no idea what to do when the emotions would become so strong.  I had quite a few days while planting that I convinced myself my knees were re-injured (to the point where I actually felt physical pain that hadn’t been there) so that I didn’t feel bad about taking a day off work to lay in my tent – when in reality I needed to be acknowledging it as a mental health day.  I was at some of the beginning stages of my mental health affecting my physical health.  Without the distractions of project deadlines, model making, presentations, it became easy for my mind to become all-consuming (also doesn’t help that the job was just digging a hole, shoving a tree into the ground, taking 2-4 steps, and repeating.  Your mind really doesn’t have much else to do.  Podcasts and music can only do so much lol). 

From ending a 2+ year relationship, to completing my demanding 4-year program, to only having to worry about getting to the truck by 7am, to coming back to a new house after my family had moved out of our childhood home while I was away, to a second breakup harder than the last...  My brain and body were in shock, and it still hadn’t even processed my mother’s death not even a year prior.  Learning to be comfortable in solitude was my only option and quite honestly necessary for my survival and ability to move forward.

The beginning was rough.  It was a lot of lying in bed all day, maybe eating a piece of toast or a smoothie if I muscled up enough energy, and spending a lot of unhealthy time on my phone.  It wasn’t until finally getting a part-time job as a receptionist at Oxygen Yoga did I finally force some structure back into my life.  The hours were minimal, but it was enough to drag me out of bed well before noon (like 5:30am early).  I was suddenly surrounded by people who were seeking something more, people who were motivated and excited about life, people with energy and drive, people with so much love and light. Everything I wanted and needed, these people were exuberant. It became infectious, then desired.   This beginning process was a true testament to how IMPORTANT it is to surround yourself with people who inspire, motivate, love, care, act, and truly live.  People who are aligned with who you want to be. 

I started making an effort to get back outside, whether it be just lying in the yard, taking the dog out, going to a park to read/journal.  What I really wanted to be doing was getting back into hiking, but unfortunately the people in my life who would be down to hike didn’t live near me, or I hadn’t worked up the nerves to ask the newer people in my life to join me.

If I was going to make this happen, I had to learn that I could do it on my own.  

It started with just some day hikes in my happy place – Golden Ears Provincial Park; but the turning point was when I did my first solo weekend trip to Vancouver Island.  It was meant to be a healing trip with another friend going through some similar life changes, at the most beautiful spot along the Juan de Fuca trail, camping on the beach for 3 days with no service… but they ended up bailing the night before… I was honestly so upset at first because I was so desperate for this trip and we were meant to be using their car.  I hadn’t even thought going solo was an option until I was faced with the reality of how badly I needed this time away.  The idea terrified, but also excited me.  I remember having to convince (and practically beg) Dad to let me take the car and go on my own.  He was worried about me being by myself with no service, but I explained to him that if I let fear rule my life and dictate my ability to do the things I want to do, I’d never attempt even half the things I aspire to accomplish; and that I (we) had to trust my ability to take care of and protect myself (also that once I lived on my own – which wouldn’t be much longer – he wouldn’t be able to stop me anyways lol).

Without rambling on too much longer, this trip was everything I could’ve hoped for.  I journaled, I read, I cried, I photographed, I moved, I blasted music, I drove with the windows down, I listened, I released, I slowed down, I loved, I connected, I broke internal barriers – I showed myself exactly what I could be capable of by trusting myself and giving myself permission to imagine a life worth living.

I remember taking that beautiful drive back through the windy roads, between forests and coastlines, stopping to save a bee and a ladybug that got sucked in my car, soaking in the sun and thinking “this is what I want my life to look like.”

Since that trip, I’ve lived on my own, taken a sailing and yoga teacher training course on my own, gone to concerts on my own, backpacked on my own, and am now road-tripping Australia on my own.  I could go into so much detail about each of these experiences (let me know what you’d be interested in reading about!), but what’s been amazing about these solo experiences is not just how much they’ve taught me about myself + how to take care of myself, but how they’ve taught me some of the most valuable lessons surrounding community, connecting with strangers, and leaning on others when you need it. 

They’ve taught me that doing things on your own, does not mean you are alone.

Doing things on your own, does not mean you need to do it alone.  By that I mean: ask others for help when preparing for something new, reach out to people who have experienced similar things or ventured on similar endeavours you intend to attempt, seek out advice and council from people with more knowledge than you, borrow gear/equipment from people willing to share with you, share your thoughts + feelings in ways that are healthy, talk to the strangers at the table next to yours, offer a seat around the campfire to the strangers camping next to you, ask the photographer on the mountain top at sunset what camera they use. 

 Living a life with comfort in solitude is important because it allows you to connect with yourself in ways you can’t when attention is simultaneously pulled by people, work, plans, social media, family + friends, etc.; it allows you to quiet your mind and listen for you true needs. This doesn’t mean you have to shut out the world to experience solitude. Like everything, it’s about finding the balance that works for you.

So, if you ever thought about camping solo for a weekend, taking yourself out for a dinner + movie date, backpacking a foreign country, or taking a class for a new hobby – do it.  Don’t wait for someone to show up and give you permission - give it to yourself.  Community will soon follow.  

Stay passionate and curious,
Hunter💛