I Was Lonely Most of the Time

Shoutout to Rachel Renee for capturing my first moments in Florence.

You would never have known it by looking at me, but before I left everything I’d ever known and ran into the loving arms of the ocean at the edge of the world… I was lonely most of the time.

I was all smiles, with this gift/curse of an eternal babyface inviting everyone in. I was giggles and optimism, boiling over.
And that was real - I had so much love and gratitude for my people. But on the inside, I felt so alone.

I was surrounded by the family and friends I’d known all my life.

I had my sisters. My best friend. My mom.

The downtown coffee shops I built my business from…

The co-op I blew a couple dozen paychecks in…

The river I danced across, celebrating my first month as a full-time entrepreneur…

Of Course It Was Scary Leaving My Old Life Behind.

It was painful - there was this good-girl part of me (I think that was actually most of me, at the time) that told me my love affair with the ocean was silly and naive.

The voice told me it was selfish to leave behind my grandpa, my little sisters and brothers, my mom, and especially my (now ex) husband - a boy who loved me from childhood… we’d clung to each other through so much. I couldn’t see that ever ending, no matter how dark things got. Being a good wife was one of my top priorities, how could I dare make a decision for myself?

But… I Remember The Weeks, Months, And Years Before The Move.

I was lonely most of the time. I was in so much pain, in my heart.

I was lost in the world.

I knew who I was, to a point. I’d always been reflective and thoughtful, I loved to learn. I loved spending time by myself, especially rather than going to events or gatherings of any sort… but at the end of the day, even the very best days, I felt the most alone when I was surrounded by the people I was supposed to love the most.

That’s kinda how I made the decision.

I tried so many ways to soothe the cry in my heart for something deeper, something… sweeter.

Something I couldn’t quite name, but knew I was living for.

I tried new hobbies, I pursued herbalism, got into yoga, healed the traumas of my childhood and the pain of rape, got comfortable with the heartache of miscarriage after miscarriage and grieved my way through infertility. I went to counseling, I started working out. I finished my degree. I ran a blog, started a business… did work that fulfilled me. Money was always tight and I hated that, so I tried the full-time, Monday - Friday 9-5 with weekends and holidays off dream too.

(That was a bust.)

So I went vegan, decided to live cruelty free. I figured I was too tense, that I needed to learn to chill out, so I literally set out to learn how to enjoy a party. I studied the girls at the bars, learned to dance and play… realized it wasn’t for me and got cleaned up again…

And every single attempt at silencing that urge for something deeper, showing myself I already had all I needed, just landed me back in a ball on the floor feeling like my chest was cracking wide open. It was the worst pain I’d ever felt, and it was happening on a loop more and more frequently right up until the very end, when I finally chose to follow that quiet little voice calling me to something deeper; to the cool, fresh, ocean air on the Oregon coast.

Around This Time Last Year, I Remember Picking My Naked Body Up Out Of The Cold, Empty Claw-Foot Tub, Again…

I remember gently patting my hot red cheeks and puffy eyes - burned by all the tears and alcohol the night before - and I decided. Never again would I cause my own heart to hurt so much. Never again would I feel the pain and resentment that comes with a partner apathetic to my pain. Never again would I tell myself that the longing that went so deep wasn’t important enough to listen to. Never again would I put my assumptions of what others wanted from me before my own soul’s needs.

I picked the date, and started living as if my move to the coast was inevitable.

It was decided, and nothing could stop me.

So when my (now ex) husband didn’t make the deadline with what it took for him to be comfortable leaving his job, I went without him.

When my grandpa told me he couldn’t come because he wanted to be close to his sisters, I gave him the biggest hugs and cried through the goodbye before I left without him.

When my mom told me I’d hate the coast, that it’s windy and cold and I’d miss the sun, I told her I loved her, and I left anyway.
(And my heart whispered that I love the wind, I welcome the cool air after all these years of burning alive inside, and that no matter how much I might miss the sun, I’d never miss the way my heart shattered every single day. It wasn’t dramatic, it was my reality.)

People Keep Asking Me How I Had The Courage To Take The Leap Into My Dreams.

I wish the answer was more glamorous and inspiring.

Honestly, I did it because I couldn’t live one more day with the alternative. I did it because I felt like I was dying inside, and I finally realized I’d rather let people down than keep on killing myself. I realized I loved myself more than that - or that I at least wanted to love myself more than that, and the first step was to start acting like it. To give myself this gift of being allowed to live my own life.

Don’t Get Me Wrong, So Much Unfolded In My Favor Along The Way To This Journey.

It’s like the universe was holding my hand every step of the way. My business took off after a client gifted me a ticket to a conference that changed my life - that sparked the courage I needed to give myself a shot at my own life.

An amazing storyteller and interviewer-of-epic-famous-artists reached out to me asking for an interview and wanting to write a piece about me (you can read it here). It gave me hope, after all the years of writing, and that being what soothed my soul and kept me hanging on in hope and love and joy even through the darkest times in my childhood, I was finally being seen. It gave me hope that maybe my dreams were possible… not just the living near the ocean part, but all of the dreams. The writing, being an author and speaker, helping heal the same wounds I’d healed in myself, and doing it all while knowing my bills were paid and I could afford to help others too… that dream started to feel possible for poor little me.

Suddenly, I couldn’t push away responsibility for my own life, even in the areas that felt most out of my control like how healthy I was able to be or how much money I could make.

I don’t think there’s ever a moment when you know your dream is going to work out perfectly and it’s safe to leap.

It’s the opposite; you eventually wake up to the fact that even an epic failure toward your dreams is better than staying right where you are. It’s not that the grass is greener on the other side, it’s that you’ve been standing in a field of cheat-grass telling yourself to learn to appreciate it as it stabs you and weaves its way into everything you own. Who wouldn’t want out of that?

When I Came To The Oregon Coast, I Had A Firm Agreement With Myself:

I was going to be willing to bring all of my problems here. Not because I needed the baggage, but because I knew it wasn’t going to be all rainbows and butterflies - I knew I needed to learn to be happy within myself, to embrace just where I was, before things would truly feel better. Just moving wasn’t going to heal what was broken. Saying yes to my soul’s longing wasn’t going to automatically undo all the holes I’d been digging for myself in the years before. That was okay with me, I’m not afraid of doing the work.

In my first weeks on the coast, I threw myself into a routine. I mapped out what felt broken inside of me, where I felt unworthy, disgusting, sick, angry, wounded… and I planned my days around cleaning that mess up. I chose morning activities that energized, grounded, and strengthened me. I cleaned up my eating habits by working with an Ayurveda coach. I got to bed early, I rose early. It wasn’t this lazy vacation lifestyle people might expect RV life to be. For me, it was a time for sacred healing, a lot of inner work. I was alone for the first time in my life, and before I built this new life, I wanted to spend some time cleaning up inside.

I moved in September.

By the time my birthday came around in October, I had taken myself on a lot of dates. I worked on my business from the coffee shop where I made friends with the regulars and knew the owner. I finished Raped, Not Ruined in that little yellow coffee shop, too.

I had my interview with Isa Adney the day before before my 24th birthday- she’d requested it when I still lived in Idaho, but the timing worked out so that she was the first person I saw after my move; we met a full month after I got to the coast.

I watched the premier of Frozen II alone (and cried through it while missing my little sister). Twice.

I walked my three dogs about a million times a day.

I woke up at 4:30am to write blog posts and work on my books… I was in bed by 9 every night.

My life was more peaceful and fulfilling than I’d ever known it. I loved myself. I felt so held, safe, full, at peace. I lived in this constant state of gratitude and awe, and I was really content by myself.

I was alone, but for once in my life, I wasn’t lonely at all.

And then, on November 2nd, the most magical encounter of my entire life happened, and it’s been unfolding ever since.

It’s been 10 months since I held my breath and pushed through the decision to follow my heart out to the Oregon coast in an RV.

It’s been 10 months of learning how to love myself,

10 months of practicing letting love in,

10 months of learning what it means to truly live out that loving core I believe we all have.

It Turns Out A Lot Can Change In A Year,
And I’m Not Done Yet.

All this to say, loneliness doesn’t have to last forever.

Today, I feel fulfilled. I feel seen. I feel heard. I want to be more of me, every single day. I’m delighted to see and know more of myself and to share more and more with the world around me.

I just had a major disappointment in my business, and I’m still fulfilled and happy and at peace in myself. I’m still feeling waves of gratitude and joy and love in every aspect of my life. What might have crushed me, landed me at the bottom of a bottle - cold and naked in an empty tub at 2am - a year ago, was just a little breeze through my red curls this week.

I shook off the defeat yesterday, went out to a beautiful dinner with my love, and woke up this morning all giggles and peace, ready to get back to work.

I’m not in a rush to get back to my little cave anymore. I’m actually eager for the pandemic to pass, I’m excited to be surrounded by people again. I look forward to events. And it’s not because the months of isolation have gotten to me, I’m a professional hermit just like my grandpa (wink).

It’s just that I finally see that I am welcome at the table of life as much as anyone else, and I’m excited to share what I’ve brought to the potluck.

What. a. concept.

I can’t tell you what’s right for you, but I can share with you that I know - for a fact - that making this decision to honor myself was actually the least selfish thing I have ever done. Because I did it, I’m able to do and be so much more, more of the best of me - me in ways I didn’t even know I could be, and I have so much more to give back to others. Because I’ve done this, peoples’ lives have changed in ways I didn’t even know were possible. I’ve met, befriended, loved, freed, and inspired people along the way.

If you told me a year ago that this would be my life, that I could love more deeply than I ever had before, that I could feel so big and bright and joyful, or that the loneliness that ruled my life would become a distant memory, I would have really wanted to believe you… but nobody could have convinced me this was possible if I hadn’t just taken the leap and found out for myself. Even on my worst days, I wouldn’t trade this new life, this fuller me, for the whole wide world.

Whatever your big decision, I hope you make it well. I hope you choose what lights you up, and I hope you find a way to live out your decision with all the love in your beautiful, radiant heart. I hope you make your decision knowing that you are enough and that you are worthy, and I hope that in living your decision, you find a whole new level of love for yourself, a whole new version of you to pour out into the world with joy. That’s my wish for you.

Written with love from my little edge of the world.

Vera Lee Bird