I love you. 3 words that have immense meaning and can take a while at times to say.  I was recently reading a self-help book (2018 the year of improvements) which asked me to do a daily challenge, take a second and look in the mirror. “Say I love you to yourself.” The words came out and hit the glass, but didn’t necessarily break through. In fact, I would say the practice felt odd and a bit unnatural, much like fumbling into a pair of tight fitting jeans for the first time. For a few days I stumbled through the exercise, hearing the words, but having trouble digesting them into creating a state of self-love.

This past week has been frigid in New York City. What started out as a bomb cyclone (probably not the best word choice in this political climate weather stations around the world), kept me cooped up inside my apartment (with the exception of the classic CVS run. I am convinced that I single-handedly keep CVS in business). This Saturday was cold, but my legs were ready to walk the sludge-covered pavements of the city again. I wanted to do something. Feel something, other than my erratic heater sauna-ing my room. After waking up, my boyfriend and our friend decided to go grab brunch.

The classic question arose after a much needed coffee and meal. “What do you want to do today?” For one of us, the answer was sleep. Hibernation is a very good option these days; however I’m not much of a napper so that activity went right out the window. My boyfriend needed to go back to his apartment, but I wasn’t ready to go home. I wanted to experience something new. I wanted to go to the Whitney.

“So who is going to go with you?” asked my very sleepy companion. The question seemed pretty obvious to me. If they didn’t want to go and everyone else was sheltering inside during the cold (my other friend’s answer was simply "it is cold,") the answer was myself. It was a museum that I had been waiting to see since its relocation to the Highline. The truth was I was waiting to experience the artwork with someone who also felt moved to go, but I happen to be impatient, got the idea in my head to go, and frankly, didn’t exactly feeling like waiting any longer.

After paying the bill we took the 6 downtown where the conversation continued. My friend, about to head to his apartment, by himself, exclaimed, “Isn’t going to a museum by yourself lonely?” 

I let his words sit with me, taking a moment to think. I for sure thought I would be disappointed that nobody was going to do this somewhat of a group activity with me. In fact, the last time I really took myself out I was a bit uncomfortable. One of my friends was exceptionally late to our plans one Saturday night, so I looked around on yelp, picked the closest bar to my destination, pulled up a stool and sat by myself. I remember the extreme warmth of discomfort creeping up my body as I grabbed my phone to avoid others’ stares. Today was different, however. I was excited about going to a place I’ve been meaning to see at my own speed, pausing at pictures that spoke to me, and perhaps heading to Chelsea market after. My day was left up to only things that I wanted to do.

 I looked away from the myriad of subway ads, sat up straight, and decided to break the news to my friend. “Being alone isn’t the same thing as being lonely.”

As I walked ticket in hand up to the first exhibit I had a newfound energy inside me. I made something happen, by myself, without seeking or needing the approval of anybody else, or even caring what others thought. I did things my way, on my time, and was empowered.

Now back to the self-help book. Even though it’s not as clear as saying I love you, if we do things by ourselves and enjoy these self-indulgent moments, isn’t that letting ourselves know we care? As I looked out on the Whitney’s balcony, sculptures silhouetting a frozen city, I smiled. Even though there are times when I can feel stuck in my head, I thoroughly enjoyed being with myself.

Maybe 2018 will be the year I embark on a solo trip. Maybe it will be the year I challenge myself to truly step outside my comfort zone, enjoying activities even if it means doing things I want well, alone. At 26 there is still so much I am learning about who I am. Besides let me ask you this, can you really ever be lonely if you enjoy spending time by yourself?

-na MER ste-