Loneliness is a peculiar companion. As an introvert, I've always found comfort and clarity in solitude. In solitude, I can dive deeper into my thoughts. In solitude, I can reflect on every scenario that played out beforehand and examine every event in detail. In solitude, I can dwell in silence.
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But lately, the silence feels heavier than usual. 

It’s been a while since I sat down to just write. As an introvert – a person who lives in their mind – writing is a release from the chaos within us. And, not allowing myself to release the mess does not necessarily create a build-up of pandemonium but essentially causes my brain to not think at all. To not think at all is the definition of a brain on autopilot, or in other words, a brain that is numb.

I can blame it on being busy, but we are all busy. Some are busy saving the world, others are busy saving their world, and few are busy saving themselves. What was I busy doing?

I moved to Switzerland for an opportunity. I experienced two Olympic Games from another perspective. I lived an affirmation I spoke on when I was back in university. I saw another world only a few can dream about. Yet, I moved to Switzerland to run away.

I ran away to escape a diagnosis. After failed chemo treatments, I thought a move would numb my brain into thinking my condition did not exist, and perhaps I could find life again. However, life had a way of showing me that it was never lost but, instead, not fully experienced.

I watch people, and I love it. If there was a job to be a professional people-watcher, I would be CEO of the company. Couple that with the sensitivity of an introvert; you get a person who seeks to make others happy and would do anything possible to make that happen, even if it’s at the expense of their own happiness.

The problem with watching others around you is that you must take the time to watch yourself. Recently, I was forced to sit with myself, something terrifying for a person like me because you are afraid of what you will eventually find.

Alone, exhausted, and vulnerable, shame found me once again.

I failed. I failed to bring happiness to the person I loved dearly. I failed to provide more support for my family. I failed to rid myself of the illness that infects my body. Now, once again, I am alone, except in another country and probably in worse conditions than I started with.

It is selfish to think you can make everyone happy. It is selfish to think you can save the world with a broken spirit. People can feel your energy, especially those who love you. Although I was so content making them happy, they could feel I wasn’t happy internally, leading them to think my unhappiness was their fault.

We cannot continue to save the world as broken spirits. However, we also cannot think we can save ourselves alone. There is a beautiful relationship between giving and receiving love, and I want to explore that connection more, without shame, doubt, or hesitation.

​It has been some time since I’ve written, rarely finding the motivation to deliver. I battled with the never-ending issue of perfection as inspiration refused to make an appearance for my wandering mind. I was paralyzed in the unknown, something I know we all felt.
 
Though, 2020 could be to blamed, right?

Before, it was a word only heard in science fiction movies when the world was taken over by walking zombies or black-eyed aliens looking to conquer earth. Now, it has become a staple in every person’s vocabulary; a word that first started as a joke, but now has hit everyone harder than expected.
 
Quarantined.