There are times when you just have to go off by yourself to think. The first time I realised this I was eighteen years old. I’d just finished college. It was our last day. The next step was university. All my college peers were off celebrating somewhere. I was alone, because I’ve always liked being alone and also because there were these kids in my economics class who used to bully me. I wanted to avoid them.
We were allowed to leave early that day. I didn’t want to go home because I had a stepmother who used to bully me too. I wanted to avoid her. So instead for some reason I decided to go on this long-ass walk from where the college was to a neighbouring town several miles away. I plugged in my headphones, put on some Depeche Mode and set off.
Now, I was a depressive kid (Depeche Mode being the giveaway) and so my thinking was not upbeat. I don’t now recall years later, the exact substance of my reflections on that day, but I do know that I looked back on my past, which saddened me; and looked forward to my future, which made me fearful and overwhelmed.
No definitive conclusions were forthcoming. No distinct plan of action emerged. Nonetheless, in spite of my desultory mindset there was one thing of which I was sure, of which I had always been sure. That even as I dug down into the depths of my own misery, somewhere deep inside me was an atom of strength, microscopic but harder than diamond, that would endure. I knew then that whatever happened, that however hard things got, I could rely on myself and I would get through.
I probably walked for four hours or so. My route was not particularly inspiring. It took me through the hinterland of one quiet suburban town to another. It was raining softly but it was a bright afternoon. Through the drizzle I looked at the neat houses I passed with family runaround cars parked their driveways and I felt excluded. Here was normal life. Would I ever be a part of it? Did I even want to be?
In the end the rain got harder and the sky grew darker and I gave it up and when home.
As unspectacular as that may sound, the memory of that particular walk has stayed with me all these years later. Why? Because it was something I did alone, just for myself. And in doing so I reminded myself of my fundamental strength, my resilience.
Today I went on a similar walk, this time on Hampstead Heath in London. I switched off my phone and for nearly four hours I walked around alone. This time I didn’t put music on and I wore dark glasses. I tried to avoid others where I could—if I saw people coming towards me I would turn and take a different route.
The reason? Well, I am at a moment of great change in my life. There are changes afoot, sparked by a situation taking place in my professional life, that could see seismic shifts taking place affecting every element of my existence from where I live to the type of work that I do to the kind of life I will have.
I needed to get away from everything. I needed to be alone and to think.
I walked, I sat, I thought deeply, I took notes.
The bucolic surroundings, the solitude, the walking. They all had their effect. I’m not claiming to have sorted out my entire life, but I got some insights, some glimmers. Slowly, over the course of the walk, an appropriate direction started to become visible to me.
I may need another walk to crystalise this. In fact I think a lot of next week may need to be dedicated to quiet contemplation. i have some big decisions to make, and some big changes to make. But here’s the thing. The answers are within me, and I know that I can trust myself. It is my responsibility to dig down and find out what those answers are. Walking and solitude provide a great way of meeting them.
If you have a big decision to make, a big life-change coming up then try it. It’s the psychological equivalent of refueling and as such it is essential.
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