In March 2020, the unthinkable happened. Practically overnight, the world shut down in response to COVID—and at the very same time, I made the life-altering decision to leave my husband and move out of my marital home.
It was the first time I had ever lived on my own, and the timing felt strangely perfect. While most people saw the shutdown as an obstacle, I felt it was a blessing. In fact, I sometimes wonder if the universe orchestrated it just for me. The stillness gave me the space I desperately needed to adjust, heal, and rediscover myself.
One of my greatest blessings during that season was my “Biddies”—three friends who became my lifeline. Four single women navigating life alone, we leaned on each other through the uncertainty. We laughed, cried, supported, and kept each other sane in the middle of a world that felt like it was unraveling. For about a year and a half, life felt surprisingly full and beautiful.
But as the world slowly reopened, my friends returned to their pre-COVID routines. Their lives picked up again—mine didn’t. That’s when the loneliness I had been spared finally caught up with me. The hurt, anger, and grief I had been able to push aside came rushing to the surface.
That’s when I chose therapy. My therapist taught me the importance of learning how to keep myself company—something I had never truly mastered. And not long after, I made another big decision: I was moving to Florida.
I figured if I was going to be lonely, I’d rather be lonely somewhere without winter. In June 2022, I packed up and gave myself a two-year window to see what Florida could offer. I joined a singles group (with a convenient two-year contract), made friends, and eventually met my wonderful boyfriend. When my contract ended and my roommate moved out, I found myself in a cozy one-bedroom apartment, surrounded by good memories, lasting friendships, and a relationship I cherish.
But even with those blessings, loneliness has crept back in over the past year. My boyfriend’s busy schedule means he’s not always around. My friends, no longer bound together by the singles group, have returned to their own lives. We still connect now and then, but my evenings are quieter these days. And truthfully—I don’t mind. I’m not much of a party person anyway. I prefer peaceful nights and productive days.
Still, I sometimes catch myself wondering why the phone doesn’t ring, or why I’m not included in more plans. And yet, I see the difference between who I was back then and who I am now. I’m no longer searching for distractions to fill the silence. Instead, I want to spend my time intentionally—protecting my energy, raising my vibration, and aligning with what truly matters.
So here I am, ready for the next chapter. Over the next twelve months, I plan to educate myself, challenge myself, grow in ways I’ve only dreamed of, and bring those dreams to life.
For Anyone Who Can Relate
If you’ve ever found yourself in a season of transition, heartbreak, or loneliness, know that you are not alone. These times can feel heavy, but they are also powerful opportunities to create something new. A few things that have helped me—and may help you too:
- Find your “Biddies.” Even one or two people who truly “get” you can make all the difference. Seek out friendships where love and support flow both ways.
- Give yourself permission to heal. Therapy, journaling, or simply allowing your feelings to surface without judgment can be transformative.
- Learn to keep yourself company. Take yourself on walks, start a new hobby, or dedicate time to something you’ve always wanted to learn. Your own presence can become comforting, not scary.
- Be intentional with your energy. Pay attention to who and what fills your cup—and who or what drains it. Choose accordingly.
- Create a vision for your next chapter. Even if it feels far away, setting goals or making a plan for the future can give you direction and hope.
Loneliness doesn’t mean you’re broken—it often means you’re being given space to rebuild yourself in a stronger, more aligned way.
So if you’re standing where I once stood, trust that this season won’t last forever. Growth is waiting for you, and you get to decide how the next chapter of your story unfolds.
Last night, I had a dream!!
As someone with Aphantasia, I don’t typically remember my dreams. I know I have them—vividly and often—but the details almost always slip away the moment I open my eyes. So when a dream does stay with me, even in fragments, I pay attention. I know it's Uni (the Universe) whispering a message I’m meant to receive.
Most nights, my dream recall is either completely blank or filled with bits and pieces that seem nonsensical. Still, I trust. I dive into the energy of the dream and trust that what I’m meant to discern will reveal itself in time.
The Dream
Here’s what I remember:
I think I was at my boyfriend’s house. He was busy with the children, and then—someone knocked at the door.
I didn’t want to answer it. After all, it wasn’t my house. Instead, I walked to the door and simply held up my hand, signaling just a moment. But the knocking continued.
I repeated my signal—“Hold on”—but whoever was on the other side didn’t stop. The front door was made of smoky glass, so I couldn’t see who it was… but I could feel a presence. A strong one. A being of some kind was waiting.
And then—I woke up.
The Echo
Later that day, I was speaking with a client. She casually mentioned something that made my jaw drop. She was on the phone with her boyfriend the night before when she heard a knock at the door. She told him, “I’m not answering it.” But guess what? It was him—surprising her in the sweetest way.
That conversation brought my dream rushing back to the surface. The mystery knock. The door I wouldn’t open.
The Message
In dream symbolism, someone knocking on a door can represent:
- A new opportunity
- A spiritual awakening
- An invitation to step into a new phase
- A call to emotional healing
- A moment to take ownership of your path
The message I’m sitting with now is this: What am I hesitating to open? What am I sensing but not yet ready to face? Is there something—emotionally or spiritually—waiting for me to invite it in?
The smoky glass feels symbolic too. I couldn’t see clearly, but I could feel the truth on the other side. Sometimes we don’t need perfect vision—we just need presence, patience, and a willingness to open the door.
