I almost drove home that night. Not because I didn't want to be there. But because something inside of me wanted to hide.
I showed up excited for the soccer game in Ajijic. Every soccer game had become another opportunity to step a little farther outside my comfort zone. To trust myself and become more of who I really am.
In my own words
Loneliness hits hard sometimes. Press play when you're ready.
It was lightly raining when I arrived. I walked down to the malecón, where I grabbed a cappuccino while I waited for my friends. Two different groups of friends invited me to spend time with them, and I know both groups genuinely wanted me there. I was welcomed and accepted. There wasn't one thing either group did that made me feel unwanted. And yet, I couldn't bring myself to stay.
I quietly walked back to my car. As the soccer game began, I sat there alone.
At first, I kept trying to figure out why I felt so off. Was it the rain? Was it because I was outside my comfort zone? Was I just tired? But the longer I sat there, the clearer it became. This wasn't about the weather. It wasn't about the soccer game. It wasn't about my friends. It was loneliness. Not because I was physically alone. Because I still struggled to believe I truly belonged.
I kept reaching for my phone. Not because I needed to check a message. Because I wanted something. Anything outside of me to make the feeling go away. I wanted a distraction, a conversation, a reason not to feel what I was feeling. But deep down, I knew this moment wasn't asking to be fixed. It was asking to be felt.
When the game ended, I made another choice. I picked up my Free Hugs sign and walked down to the malecón. But if I'm being completely honest, I kept my sign hidden beneath my umbrella almost the entire time. Partly because it was still drizzling, but more because I wasn't ready to be fully seen.
Mexico had lost the game. The energy that normally filled the malecón with music, laughter, dancing, and celebration was gone. It felt like someone had let the air out of a balloon.
Looking back, I think I was hoping the energy around me would lift the energy inside me. Instead, the quiet sadness around me matched exactly how I felt.
Eventually, I drove home. I cried most of the way. I felt deeply lonely. I felt energetically out of alignment. I questioned myself. I questioned my worth. And I questioned why it still felt so hard to simply believe I belonged.
Years ago, I lived in loneliness every single day. Back then, I didn't know I had another choice. Now it's different. Loneliness still visits me. Sometimes unexpectedly. Sometimes deeply. But it no longer gets to move in and make itself at home.
That night didn't give me all the answers. It didn't magically make the loneliness disappear. But it gave me something I didn't have before. Awareness.
I realized I wasn't reaching for another person. I was reaching for relief. And for the first time, instead of running from the loneliness, I stayed with it. I listened. I cried. I let it teach me.
Maybe healing isn't about never feeling lonely. Maybe healing is recognizing loneliness, meeting it with love, and choosing not to let it decide your life anymore.
That night, I almost drove home. In some ways I did. But I also drove home understanding myself a little more than I had when I arrived. And somehow, that feels like healing.
