Last week I went to Phoenix and surprised myself.

I was there for a gathering of a group of women in business who I adore. And usually I’m all in. Lunches, cocktail hour (mocktails for me), dinners, and chatting outside the ladies’ room.

The week lined up with the last few days before my period and that phase (Luteal) is when I can feel myself slide underground.

As a 7 on the Enneagram and a consummate extrovert, though, my energy is usually bolstered by the presence of interesting, enthusiastic people and I basically become a Golden Retriever no matter where I am in my cycle.

But this trip was different.

My craving for time alone was vast and kind of foreign.

My need for human interaction cup was small and got filled fast by the event and a few auxiliary dates with some of my favorite Phoenix humans.

My solo time cup, on the other hand, was huge and hungry.

I stayed on east coast time so I was getting up at 3:30 or 4:30am, greeting the sunrise, and stretching on my hotel room floor guided by the instructions of a mobility guy in Thailand,  Instagram suggested. (I love him. He does videos wearing his baby. Adorbs.)

I listened to hours of podcasts. I walked. I went to bed at 7:30pm. I wore hotel bathrobes for more hours than regular clothes.

My trip away with myself was heaven.

The level of connection and bliss I felt being alone with very little on my schedule was major.

And no matter where you find yourself on the spectrum of introvert to extrovert, there’s something particular about my romantic getaway with myself that’s share-worthy and transferable.

Have you ever heard anyone say that humans don’t change?

I vacillate between believing everyone can change and seeing the world through pink spectacles and finding sweet surrender in letting certain folks just be who they are, knowing that their way is pretty much gonna just be their way.

I used to be someone who was allergic to being alone.

In college, I mapped out my schedule on loose-leaf paper that I tore out of the back of notebooks meticulously, I always made sure every possible alone moment had a buddy.

When I lived in a single for the first time in my Sophomore year, I got depressed.

In my twenties, I booked myself silly with breakfast, coffee, lunch, and dinner dates. When I found myself alone, I called someone to come over or at least to talk.

Even in elementary school, I had a little hand-drawn schedule and I’d invite a different friend over each day to play, making sure none of the days were blank.

I thought this was just how I was. That I’d always prefer the company of other humans. That external stimuli, having a lot going on, and a social buzz, was just my way.

I thought I’d always want to avoid the dry, hot, itchy ache of being a human alone and that, while I’d do things to learn to tolerate it my whole life, I’d never actually enjoy it.

But there I was, in the dry, hot desert in May, walking around in that living sauna, sweaty under boob and all, loving the f*ck out of being by myself.

I think what floors me and has me in awe of being human is that I hadn’t decided to work on the part of myself that got anxious if she had a tiny/nonexistent to do list coupled with no social plans. 

Over time, in small, non-noticeable ways, I became someone who no longer felt like I was crawling in fire ants when faced with the empty space of a solo hotel room and a day with no plans.

7 years ago, I started tracking my cycle and the energetic and emotional ebbs and flows that went along with it. Not long after, I started working on healing my nervous system, but I didn’t know that’s what I was doing.

These 2 ways of diving into relationship with my body – cycle tracking and nervous system healing – slowly and seismically made every single aspect of my life better without me needing to work on all the different parts individually.

My resistance to exercise tiptoed away so quietly, I didn’t even realize until it had been about a year since I’d done the mental tug of war about whether or not I was gonna move my body that day.

My ability to be present with my kids and just soak in their sweet wildness expanded a lot. 

My sex life opened up in ways I wouldn’t have expected after 12 years with the same person.

Our finances are more stable and abundant than they’ve ever been and we didn’t create that reality through stress and pressure. Relaxation came first.

The fact that all of these areas can get so much better simultaneously without having to work consciously on habit stacking or some kind of personal growth plan feels like the greatest do less hack of all time.

In retrospect, this is what it’s been like for me:

Dive into the body. Enjoy every single area of your life feeling safer and sweeter.

I don’t know if this equation works for everyone, but I hear from people every day who are having their own delicious version of what I’m having.

And I think we’re not that special.

Is there an area of your life you’d like to feel safer in? More in control of? More pleasure in?

What if trying to fix it isn’t the way?

What if paying attention to and tending the vehicle for your soul this particular time around on Earth is the thing that would make everything else easier or unnecessary?

I think we can all change. I don’t think we all will. But for those of us who want to, I don’t think it needs to take nearly as much concerted mental effort as I used to think it did.

For me it’s been mostly a body trip, not a head trip, and I hope me sharing that helps you to find more sweetness, too.

Love,

Kate