Dear reader, it's been a cold plunge

Breaking up and deciding to stay in Ireland felt like jumping into the icy winter waters I had always avoided. My ex told me I was making the stupidest decision possible — both financially and emotionally. I didn’t cheat on him, but even so — even though most people didn’t know about the elf factor in this equation — I heard a lot of cruel whispers from some of our close ones. And for someone like me — a little insecure and way too worried about what people think — it’s been a cold plunge.

I mean, metaphorically, my body is still shaking.

It’s been a while since I’ve felt so alone and vulnerable.

And after the thriller — before and after the missed flight — I spent some time living in a void of fear and emptiness, feeling like no one could really reach me, except maybe the elf boy, but he, too, was dealing with his own crises at the time.

That was when I asked for help from the precious friends who stayed, and tried to notice the good things around me.

Don’t get me wrong, dear reader. I’m not naïve enough to believe the world is entirely good or that love is a victory march. I mean, yes, I’m a romantic soul, for sure. But I’m still a Jeff Buckley and Franz Kafka fan, and generally, I feel more like I’m wrapped in a melancholic kind of optimism — soft and stubborn all at once — than like a Disney dreamer.

I made this decision — to try to cherish the good things along the way — because, you know, the path appears as we walk, and if we’re going to walk anyway, we might as well enjoy the breeze, the sun, and the flowers, instead of just focusing on the holes, the stones, and the branches that scratch us, right?

I’m not saying I don’t feel guilty, haunted by the future I turned away from, or worried about the people I hurt with my decisions. It’s a rollercoaster. But I have to admit: now that I’m trying to appreciate the good things around me, and caring less about what others think, it’s actually good to be on my own in the real world. Far away from the perfectly comfortable cage, with really tall love-made walls, that some of my overprotective loved ones had designed for me, even if they did it with the best of intentions.

I mean, right now I’m literally saving all the half-used travel-sized toothpaste that hotel guests leave behind, just so I don’t have to buy any and can save some money, but still, it’s nice.

Terrifying and sometimes exhausting and overwhelming, but nice.

So well — since we’re here — dear reader, here’s another piece of advice: if one day you decide to be on your own, make sure you have some love around you. And make sure your inner radar is tuned enough to catch it.