It has become apparent that one of the greatest challenges to my comfort zone is doing things by myself. Alone. It is always easier to not do things. It takes little effort or imagination to sit at home and do nothing, and if you’re not responsible for or answerable to another person, there’s often little incentive. Who cares if my weekends are comprised of binge-watching Eureka and bringing Chinese food home from Safeway? What I do with my down time is my own business, right?
We’ve already talked about my reluctance to invite myself along to group get togethers. And the awful truth about the theater community is that when you’re not actively working together on a show, you don’t see your friends that much. And for better or worse, those are my friends. I can’t be as active in the theatre as I’d like, and as a result I have very little social life.
Yes, I know. That is a comfort zone challenge in and of itself.
So I’m learning to do things by myself. Go out for a meal. Go shopping. Go to a movie or even a friend’s performance. (This last also serves to remind them that I’m here. In theory, at least…) Some things are easier to do solo than others. Going to breakfast by oneself is easier than going out for dinner. Going to Macy’s is easier than stopping into a small boutique. And, (probably not a good thing) running to the liquor store is a lot easier than hitting a happy hour all by yourself.
Yes, I know. That is a comfort zone challenge in and of itself.
So I’m learning to do things by myself. Go out for a meal. Go shopping. Go to a movie or even a friend’s performance. (This last also serves to remind them that I’m here. In theory, at least…) Some things are easier to do solo than others. Going to breakfast by oneself is easier than going out for dinner. Going to Macy’s is easier than stopping into a small boutique. And, (probably not a good thing) running to the liquor store is a lot easier than hitting a happy hour all by yourself.
Now, I realize that what’s pushing the limits of my comfort zone in these situations is nothing but my imagined perception of others’ reaction to me. I know that in most cases, I’m the only one making it an uncomfortable situation for myself. My intellectual side tells me this all the time, usually in an ongoing argument with the fight or flee instinct of my primal midbrain. It takes an effort to quiet both of them.
This year, after the annual marathon that is our ZooLights festival, I decided to deliberately do something alone that I have actually rarely even done with others - travel. My new position at the zoo provides me with some disposable income for the first time in my life. I’m realizing that I am now one of those people who can afford to get out of town once in a while. I’ve started researching a trip to London later in the year. Whether that actually happens or not, I thought some practice at traveling alone might be a good idea.
This year, after the annual marathon that is our ZooLights festival, I decided to deliberately do something alone that I have actually rarely even done with others - travel. My new position at the zoo provides me with some disposable income for the first time in my life. I’m realizing that I am now one of those people who can afford to get out of town once in a while. I’ve started researching a trip to London later in the year. Whether that actually happens or not, I thought some practice at traveling alone might be a good idea.
A mid-January Tuesday morning found me on a train bound for Seattle. This had been a regular destination for my family when I was growing up but I’m guessing it had been over twenty years since I’d been there. I knew the city well enough, and had a plan for what I wanted to see and do. There were friends I wanted to visit while I was there, and thanks to social media those plans were easy to set up. The car-sharing service car2go is in Seattle as well, so I even had a good local transportation option in place.
I got into my hotel in the early afternoon, leaving me plenty of time before meeting some old high school friends at a karaoke bar that evening. I walked from Pioneer Square to the monorail station (remembering what Seattle’s hills are like) and rode the monorail up to Seattle Center.
Along with the Seattle waterfront, Seattle Center was a mainstay of visits to Seattle with my parents, siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles. The Space Needle oversees the collection of attractions there, some familiar like the International Fountain, some now changed like the food court, and some new like the Experience Music Project and Chihuly Garden and Glass. And yes, although it’s hard to say that things like the Space Needle seem smaller, it did seem that everything used to be a lot more spread out.
The Chihuly is a visual revelation - darkened rooms focusing your attention on bright and colorful tendrils, balls, waves and creatures of glass. The pieces tower over you, or stand around the rooms on pedestals. Rooms are themed, and you wander at leisure from one to the next.
Along with the Seattle waterfront, Seattle Center was a mainstay of visits to Seattle with my parents, siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles. The Space Needle oversees the collection of attractions there, some familiar like the International Fountain, some now changed like the food court, and some new like the Experience Music Project and Chihuly Garden and Glass. And yes, although it’s hard to say that things like the Space Needle seem smaller, it did seem that everything used to be a lot more spread out.
The Chihuly is a visual revelation - darkened rooms focusing your attention on bright and colorful tendrils, balls, waves and creatures of glass. The pieces tower over you, or stand around the rooms on pedestals. Rooms are themed, and you wander at leisure from one to the next.
This is where my Seattle epiphany began. I did not feel compelled to appreciate everything. In the past, with a partner or group, I may have felt the need to experience every piece and nuance of an exhibit like the Chihuly. Not wanting to rush a companion (and perhaps trying to present myself in what I thought was the best light possible) I would hem and haw and examine artifacts from every possible angle, trying to experience them fully.
While I thoroughly enjoyed the majority of the displays, there were a few of the installations that left me a little flat. The Venetian Ceiling reminded me of nothing more than the front end of a child’s toy kaleidoscope. And it may have been the mid-January drizzle or the time of day, but I was underwhelmed by the outdoor garden and the Glass House with it’s oversized, undulating orange and yellow mobile.
Did I stand and examine these works in an attempt to force myself to appreciate them? I could have. But I decided not to. I simply moved on, often backtracking to other pieces that had caught my attention.
Did I stand and examine these works in an attempt to force myself to appreciate them? I could have. But I decided not to. I simply moved on, often backtracking to other pieces that had caught my attention.
There was a demonstration in glass blowing going on in an outdoor courtyard. I caught it mid-presentation. Were I with someone else, that may have been the end of it. I’ve often missed things I wanted to see because I didn’t want to pressure a companion to wait or return for a scheduled presentation. This time, I simply hung around, revisited some of the museum and checked out the gift shop until the next program came around, and I could enjoy the full presentation.
It was as if I suddenly had permission to be self-centered.
It took some time to get used to. I was under no pressure or obligation to do anything on this trip. I had gone up with a very rough itinerary, certain things I was interested in visiting. I had arranged karaoke with friends from high school on Tuesday evening, and a Wednesday afternoon Hayley date - time with my “stage daughter,” now in college at Seattle U. Other than those plans, nobody was expecting me to be anywhere at any given time. If I wanted to simply hang out in my hotel room, I could. There was no one to disappoint besides myself.
It was as if I suddenly had permission to be self-centered.
It took some time to get used to. I was under no pressure or obligation to do anything on this trip. I had gone up with a very rough itinerary, certain things I was interested in visiting. I had arranged karaoke with friends from high school on Tuesday evening, and a Wednesday afternoon Hayley date - time with my “stage daughter,” now in college at Seattle U. Other than those plans, nobody was expecting me to be anywhere at any given time. If I wanted to simply hang out in my hotel room, I could. There was no one to disappoint besides myself.
In fact, I actually intended to do just that Wednesday evening. I returned Hayley to her campus and went back to the Pioneer Square Hotel, fully intending to hang out and rest. I wandered the square a while, then at the spur of the moment decided that an evening visit to the Space Needle would be cool.
So I was off to Seattle Center again. There was no building a consensus, no dissent, no gathering of people and equipment. I just went.
So I was off to Seattle Center again. There was no building a consensus, no dissent, no gathering of people and equipment. I just went.
And that was the theme of the week. I went where I wanted. Pike Street Market, where I wandered the shops, visiting the ones that interested me, ignoring those that didn’t. The Aquarium, where I spent time with exhibits that I enjoyed and spent time indulging my professional curiosity by checking out the cafe.
I didn’t make it to the Experience Music Project. I simply didn’t feel like it should be shoe-horned in to this visit. I had wanted to see it, and still do, but I want to give it the attention required to fully experience it. I didn’t disappoint anyone else by my decision. No one was relying on my getting them there. I simply came to the conclusion that that particular attraction could wait for another trip.
I’ve come to realize how much my life has centered on others. It’s not something I want to change - I truly believe that sublimation of self and paying more attention to others’ needs and comfort is the way to be a better person. If you center your life on your needs and desires, you will be disappointed. Concentrate on the needs of others, and you will never be.
I didn’t make it to the Experience Music Project. I simply didn’t feel like it should be shoe-horned in to this visit. I had wanted to see it, and still do, but I want to give it the attention required to fully experience it. I didn’t disappoint anyone else by my decision. No one was relying on my getting them there. I simply came to the conclusion that that particular attraction could wait for another trip.
I’ve come to realize how much my life has centered on others. It’s not something I want to change - I truly believe that sublimation of self and paying more attention to others’ needs and comfort is the way to be a better person. If you center your life on your needs and desires, you will be disappointed. Concentrate on the needs of others, and you will never be.
But there are times when you have permission to be selfish. If no one is depending on you for their fulfillment, or entertainment, or sense of self worth, there is no one for you to disappoint.
Maybe it’s time to look at my life in a different light. I have bemoaned my single status, wallowed in my aloneness, and generally spent may too much time and energy focusing on not having anyone to share experiences with. There is a world of freedom in solo living, if one just gives permission to indulge oneself. Approval seeking becomes less of an issue when it’s your own approval you seek.
Maybe it’s time to look at my life in a different light. I have bemoaned my single status, wallowed in my aloneness, and generally spent may too much time and energy focusing on not having anyone to share experiences with. There is a world of freedom in solo living, if one just gives permission to indulge oneself. Approval seeking becomes less of an issue when it’s your own approval you seek.
For better or worse, I am living a solo life. I did not choose it, but it is where I have landed at this particular juncture. Would I like a circle of friends to hang out with at random times? Of course. Do I sometimes wish for the comfort of an intimate companion? Certainly. Do I get lonely? Of course.
Should this define my life? No.
I have an opportunity to live life on my own terms that many people never know. I can lose myself in loneliness and self-pity, or I can confront the self-imposed artifice of the comfort zone and choose to be alone. There is little criteria for what I choose to do beyond, “Is this what I want?” Sure, I want to be productive, to create, to be part of a larger community, but how I do that is up to me.
And maybe my friends will choose to join me from time to time.
Should this define my life? No.
I have an opportunity to live life on my own terms that many people never know. I can lose myself in loneliness and self-pity, or I can confront the self-imposed artifice of the comfort zone and choose to be alone. There is little criteria for what I choose to do beyond, “Is this what I want?” Sure, I want to be productive, to create, to be part of a larger community, but how I do that is up to me.
And maybe my friends will choose to join me from time to time.