Some Unfiltered Lessons from Solitude

If I had to choose one person to spend my life with, it would be myself. I say that not from a place of ego but from a deep respect for what solitude has taught me.

The depth of my love for others is just an echo of the love I have for myself.

The other day, I was sitting on a rock by the river after a run, feeling the cool breeze on my face, watching fall leaves float down, and listening to the river's song. In that quiet moment, a familiar sadness surfaced—the ache of people leaving, the old wound of abandonment.

I'm not a victim to it, just aware of how it lives in me, how it affects my connections. Relationships come and go, by choice or by fate. Endings are part of life, inevitable.

So, if I love my own company, why does loss still hit so deeply? It’s natural, I remind myself. Grief is a natural outcome of endings. And I’ve learned that when we let ourselves feel what we’re avoiding, however heavy and scary it seems, we actually set ourselves free. The only way out is through. This is the way to heal.

Each ending brings me back to myself, to the person I love most. And with that comes the realization: if I truly love myself, why do I hold back? Why do I avoid conflict to keep the peace? Why do I shrink to fit expectations?

True relationships can withstand honesty, and letting go of the rest creates space for what aligns.

In life, the journey and the destination matter less than the company we choose along the way.

These last few months have been a return to myself, and I’m filled with gratitude for every moment, every community, and every person who’s been part of it—especially those who stood by me. I am truly grateful for each and every one of you. If self-love is real, it calls for truth, for grace in letting go, and for always finding my way back home to me.