The 30th Year - Being Alone

It started the year before I turned 30. I could feel life shifting under my feet, like unstable sand on a dune, one wrong step away from sending me sliding down. And I was nervous about what was at the bottom of the hill. Would I be able to climb my way back up? Or would I continue to slide back down, again and again, with nothing to grab on to?

I won’t pretend either that I was deathly afraid of this change, though. I knew it was coming - it had to come. Most days, I desperately wanted it to come.

I had been working the same job since I graduated college, and I couldn’t see any career advancement in the near future. My social bubble was so small and limited to my immediate surroundings that I had nearly forgotten what it was like to meet new people. I hadn’t been on a date. I lost the passion for my hobbies because they were so closely tied into my job. I was… stagnat.

So, it started the year before I turned 30.

I realized that first, I would need to learn to enjoy being alone. Not in some morbid, melodramatic way; I wasn’t resigning myself to a life on my own or getting left behind by my friends. It’s a bit hard to articulate this, to be honest. Friends are a crutch for me. I’d fully become a hermit if my friends disappeared. Sure, I could make new friends, but I just… wouldn’t. And life would march by me, and I’d think “oh man, that event would've been fun to go to, too bad I don’t have anyone to go with me.” Which is just SILLY!

I needed to learn to enjoy being in my own company so that I could go out and try new things without depending on someone else’s availability.

August 2025, I booked a ticket and a hotel room for Otakon, an anime convention in DC. I didn’t have anyone to go with me, but I was determined to go, cosplay, and make some new friends. It was the first big step in the right direction. I cosplayed as Helen from Death Becomes Her the Musical and was repeatedly mistaken for Jessica Rabbit. I was too shy to correct people. And then I had a health scare.

I left the event feeling defeated. I’d ended up spending a good chunk of it holed up in my (admittedly nice) hotel room waiting to feel okay again. When I was feeling okay enough to venture back to the convention, I was too tired and nervous to approach anyone and start conversations. I felt like a failure. Here I was, surrounded by people with a common interest, and I was too sick to make a decent attempt at being social. I didn’t want to this ever again.

But I was turning 30 this year.

So I sorted myself out and decided to try something a little smaller. No more multi day conferences for me (turns out they’re much more fun when you’re with friends). I booked a ticket for a small concert in a tiny venue only 40 minutes from my home. I scouted out the parking situation, left way too early, and I pasted a smile on my face in an attempt to look approachable.

No one approached me. But I had an incredible time!

TROY put on an amazing show. When the event ended, I realized I hadn’t spent any of the event checking over my shoulder to see if my friend was having a good time. I wasn’t considering if we needed to leave early or if they weren’t enjoying the music as much I was. The only person I had to account for was myself, and I was having a blast.

The first thing I learned about being alone is: I’m the deciding factor.

The biggest question I have to answer about any solo outing is “Do I want to be here?” If the answer is yes, then I’ll make the drive, I’ll figure out parking, I’ll shell out the cash. But the minute the answer becomes no, then I can leave. I don’t have to wait around for someone else to give me permission to leave or drive me home (unless of course I Ubered…) It’s honestly one of the best parts of solo traveling.

I won’t lie to you and say I suddenly became a social butterfly. In fact, I had a hard time finding things still in my comfort zone that I was willing to go to alone. That is, until Thanksgiving.

My family and I traveled to Oahu, Hawai’i to visit my brother for the holidays. At this point, I was now unemployed and vacillating wildly between terror for the future and enjoying my new found free time. My brother made me a proposition. “If you’re gonna be unemployed, might as well be unemployed in Hawai’i.” It’s hard to argue with that.

Moving from the East Coast to a tiny island thousands of miles away from my friends and parents was about as far out of my comfort zone as you could get without blowing it up. I laughed it off at first as impossible, but then… I really thought about it. When else would I get such a unique opportunity?

My excuses ran dry one-by-one. So, I booked my flight and made arguably the biggest leap I’ve ever made in my life. I won’t compare myself to others because this isn’t about other people. For me, this was massive.

Since landing on the island, I’ve dealt with the daily struggle against my inner hermit. Every time I win, it’s a reminder that I am enough, cheesy as it may sound. I celebrate these solo outings by forcing my lovely mom to listen to me recount every thing I did that day from the moment I woke up. Once I’ve updated her, I quickly call my dad who is possibly in the very same room and tell him the exact same story. Listen, you can celebrate personal accomplishments however you want, this is how I do it.

So what else have I learned about being alone?

• Lose the headphones. Make yourself approachable and you’ll be surprised how many people will start the conversation.

• On the flip side, don’t be afraid to create a bubble and just be in the space. Some days, it’s enough that you’re in a new environment listening to the same podcast.

• Just take the selfie or whatever. Yes it feels cringe, but you’ll be disappointed you didn’t document the day and genuinely no one cares. The people who do are grouchy losers anyway.

• Research ahead of time. Whether its parking or bathrooms, whatever you need to know to feel prepared, if you scout it out first then you’ll be more likely to go.

• Be adaptable. This one comes with a bit of a story. Check it out here!

Being alone isn’t the death sentence that the world wants you to believe it is. It’s also not the glamorous, adventurous lifestyle that the instagram influencers portray it as. It’s lonely and peaceful, it’s boring and full of new experiences. And when you can learn to be okay with yourself, you’ll find that you’re pretty decent company.