Tourist
I did two important things today. Alone.
You could say I played tourist, because I went to two fairly well-known, mildly busy places in San Francisco. Alone. Not because I had nobody to go with, but because doing this alone held a symbolic meaning for me.
When I was in my past relationship, I would sometimes hint at things we could do together — things I wanted to do together. I’ve lived in the Bay Area for less than two years, and there were (and still are) so many places, sights, and secrets to discover and explore. Some I had already experienced; others I had not. I was itching to share those moments with someone who, to put it bluntly, wasn’t much interested in them. And I sort of just accepted it. I think I pushed it once or twice, but it felt like too much effort to exert on something so trivial. But as trivial as it was, it was important to me, and I wish I would have voiced that more (lesson learned) so we could have compromised on outings or at least had some open dialogue about it. To be perfectly clear: I’m not saying that it’s a good idea to force the people in your life to partake in activities they hate — don’t do that. Bad. I’m just saying that if something matters to you, and you want to share that something with another person, maybe you should honor what’s in your heart instead of pretending that it doesn’t bother you. Just a thought.
In any case, I truly enjoyed the moments we were able to spend together, though I’ll be the first to admit that it almost always felt rushed. An hour on BART one way, a drive back to someone’s place, an hour back, a final bus ride. The circumstances put an unfavorable pressure on time that I still can’t fully explain. I’ve said before that in the end I spent more days unhappy than I did happy; the days I felt happiest were the times we could relax and not worry about who was going to have to take a train the following week. The moments between the lines where we didn’t need a plan or a place and could just breathe together.
One thing we didn’t fully enjoy in unison was nature. In my novel-esque mind, there are times when I want nothing more than to just exist in a lovely place. To breathe in air that tastes different because my heart knows there’s something special about the surroundings. Sometimes these places are full of tourists. Other times there’s not a single soul around. Today, it was the former — and, shockingly, I didn’t mind.
If you know me, you know that I’d choose being outside (so long as it’s not over 85 degrees — I’m weak, I know) over being indoors roughly 90% of the time. I like to move. I like to see. I like to be free. There are fewer places I’d rather be than at the summit of a mountain, or beneath a canopy of redwoods, or with my toes dipped in some pristine body of water.
Now, let’s get one thing straight: Land’s End and Twin Peaks are not like any of the scenes I just painted. At all. I like to think of them as a bridge between the City and the untouched nature that I crave. Even at that, not everyone likes bridges — not everyone wants to walk down to Land’s End or watch the sunset from Twin Peaks. Some people find happiness in other places, other activities, other routines.
I had to learn to be happy on my own after I graduated from high school. Most people that I’ve met post-high school don’t know this about me, but the beginning of my college journey was a struggle. In 2011, I withdrew my admission to UC Davis on move-in day, and after sleeping off the tremors of the panic attack that confirmed I indeed needed to make that difficult decision, I hopped in the car with my mom and drove to the local community college. My life had gone from disguised chaos to absolute chaos over night, but I was never going to let that compromise my education or my future. So, as I tried to fill my time (and my class schedule, since school had started the month before and I was only able to take two expedited classes during that first semester) with positive things, I was pretty much on my own — without structure — for the first time in my life. I had to find activities and spaces to fill my days and to keep my anxiety from relentlessly taking over my life. I got my first part-time job, took a bunch of belly dancing classes, developed a love for hiking, discovered that I was a pretty talented artist, became a student ambassador, enrolled in every Spanish course offered, and even convinced my parents that it was time to get another dog. And, by the great will of the universe, I found one of my dearest friends in someone I had known as an acquaintance since kindergarten. Life is weird.
The point is that I spent a lot of time alone during those semesters before transferring, and I grew in that solitude and learned a great deal about myself. The thought of trying to date anyone besides the cute boy in my Spanish classes rarely crossed my mind. But when it did, I knew in my heart that I first had to learn to be happy with who I was becoming, and to do the things that made me happy, on my own.
I carried that with me. I prioritized the things that mattered most to me, and learned how to just be as an individual. It’s not an easy thing to learn, but fortunately it’s even harder to unlearn. In any relationship that I’ve had, no matter how brief, I’ve always had that habit in my back pocket. You can’t be fully happy with another person — friend, partner, whatever — unless you’ve learned how to be happy on your own.
So, because I never could convince my former partner to go to Land’s End or Twin Peaks with me, and since it was always an empty, “Yeah, that’s a great idea!” with the other guys I’ve been interested in, I went alone. And while I didn’t have any grandiose epiphanies (wait, that’s not true — I had an epiphany about foghorns — ask me about that) I did feel empowered. I felt proud of myself for occupying my time with things that make me feel whole. Because lately, I haven’t felt whole — there are still times when I wonder what I could have, should have, maybe would have changed to prevent this feeling. Not only regarding my relationship, but how I’ve conducted myself as an individual as well. At the end of the day, it’s a lost cause.
But! My day as a San Francisco tourist was not a lost cause. Sure, I didn’t see many other young people alone on the trail to Mile Rock Beach, but I observed my surroundings more intensely than I have on any other trip down to the Labyrinth. I saw the Sutro Baths for the first time. When I went up to Twin Peaks that evening, I saw a view of the City I’ve never encountered. And the whole time, I felt at peace. Being content in my own mind, body, and soul was exactly the medicine that I needed today.
So cheers to us — the people who know how to find meaning in the moments we spend alone, and in turn use that wisdom and experience to better appreciate and love those around us. And, perhaps, to better seek out people who value the same meaningful moments that we do.
The first step is showing love to oneself; the next step is showing that love to others.
“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone — we find it with another.”
- Thomas Merton
Hayley Walker is a nonprofit development professional working in San Francisco, California. With a Bachelor of Arts in Communication Studies and a Masters of Nonprofit Administration, her passions include human communication, art, service to others, the great outdoors, and dogs. Lots of dogs.
