There’s a John Donne quote that goes “No man is an island entire of it self; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main,” (Devotions, 1624). And the only reason i know that is because I’ve seen the Carrie Diaries episode about it, where she realizes that manhattan is this island full of islands, and everyone is somehow packed together and also completely alone.
I’ve found this to be true. And I don’t know why that doesn’t terrify me, because I spent the last 19 years of my life depending on the presence of other people to get me through the day. But it doesn’t. I went out tonight and ran a 5k to Hudson River Park at 10pm, well into the night. I was alone. One of my closest friends is in town to see me. But being here alone for the last month and a half has made me appreciate the time I spend with myself.
This is the first time in my life I’ve ever been this alone, and the first time I’ve ever wanted to be alone. I like walking eight miles a day by myself. I like getting to choose where I eat and what I do and not having to run my thoughts by anyone else. I keep thinking I should call my dad, or reply to some message I got four hours ago but none of it matters. I’m not afraid of the future because I’ll deal with it when it gets here.
I know this rapid, radical shift in my introverted-extroverted-ness and life views is due largely in part to prozac, and to suddenly not dying daily under the crippling weight of chronic depression, but I also believe that I’m not some new person because I’m on meds. I think this is the person I have always been, beneath the layers of sadness and the chemicals I can’t control, and I really don’t want to be on meds for the rest of my life but right now I need them. And I’m okay with that. College was rough. I woke up almost every day and did not want to be alive. But I also know I couldn’t be here, living here, in the city of all cities if I hadn’t gone through those things.
I always want to pretend it’s as easy as wishing the past away, but it never has been and it never will be. I am me because of the things I’ve gone though. I am me because I lost Kati, because I lost Eli, because I decided when I was 12 that every summer I had to live somewhere completely different. I am the child of my parents, of my family, of my shitty high school and the nowhere-ville town I grew up in. I couldn’t exist without the worst parts of my life.
Isn’t that how everything works? We define and understand things in relation to other things; our perspective of reality is comparative. So, there can’t be light without shadow, green without magenta, day without night, west without east, etc. Solitude is the yin to the yang of coexistence. I am only here, feeling like I belong in a city of 20 million people because I have finally learned to belong to myself.
Most days, I really like being an island. I like the quiet. I don’t need a continent anymore. I could drift forever and I’d always be at home, because home is where the heart is and for the first time my heart is with me.