The Search

I am wholly convinced a day at the beach should be considered a form of therapy in itself. I spent the majority of the day basking beneath the warm embrace of the sun with a dear friend; it feels like a hard-earned moment of reprieve after a relentless Winter. After months of leaving the house everyday wrapped tightly in layers while the Earth rotated under cover of darkness and frost, at last, Summer arrived to remind us there is light beyond the shadow. On the beach, my flesh is bare and painted bronze, and all that was laid to rest during the Winter is reborn.

It is a completely over-indulgent day in the best way possible; oysters by the beach and glasses of chilled white wine, a rooftop restaurant and aperol spritzes, the biggest grilled octopus I’ve ever seen and…several more aperol spritzes. By the time I head home that evening my cheeks are reddened from too much sun and possibly a bit too much liquor, but I am filled with gratitude.

I’ve been single now for a little over a year, and I spent the first half of this past year in what felt like a permanent state of searching. I was an astronaut floating in an aimless orbit through outer space, untethered from the spaceship, so desperately wanting to find my way back home. 

I searched for home in the faces of strangers on dating apps, mindlessly clicking past image after image until the faces all seemed to blur into one. I searched for home everywhere I traveled to, waiting to stumble upon a place that would stick, nowhere ever did. In an effort to distract myself from The Search, I made it my mission to say yes to any experience or opportunity presented to me, anything that would pull me away from my routine. If nowhere felt like home, I’d become a nomad instead. 

On the latest segment of my Yes series, I found myself in the middle of a 700-acre farm in Manchester, Tennessee at a 4-day music festival. Conservative, cardigan-wearing Adri abandoned her corporate persona for a free-spirited alter ego who wore more glitter than actual clothing, and only required Lunchables and Jack Daniel’s for nourishment. And while it was fun, I returned home still feeling a sense of displacement.

When nowhere feels like home, you just retreat into yourself.

I heard this quote on a Netflix series (not my usual source of inspiration) a little while back and it instantly resonated with me. I reflected over how a relationship is a home in itself and, when it ends, a lot of the grief we feel is accompanied by a sense of displacement. When you’ve spent so much time building your home in another person, only to have it taken away, how do you find your way back to a place that feels like home? 

My failed search attempts led me to retreat further and further into myself, in defeat. But I started to realize I couldn’t expect another person to restore the sense of home I was searching for, and that I also would never find it in my travels, that home wasn’t a tangible place at all; home was woven into the framework of my very being. And if I was going to retreat into myself, I had to make this body a place that felt like a safe space, a source of respite after a long day, a temple where I could shut out the noise of the outside and simply exist. 

Over the course of the past few months, I’ve been making a conscious effort to settle into myself, a place that feels both foreign and familiar, like returning somewhere you once knew very well but hadn’t visited in a long while. Like a soldier returning home after a lengthy and wearisome battle, bruised and battered and learning to reacclimate to this environment that once felt safe but all of a sudden feels threatening. 

What a wild, vulnerable thing it is to be alone.

But what I realize is that this solitude is also precious; solitude is meant to be treasured, in all of its fleeting presence it begs us to do the internal housekeeping we so often neglect.

I think learning to accept, to embrace, solitude is so crucial for anyone coming out of a relationship. I truly believe it sets the foundation for us to be able to accept love in a healthy way, the love we all so very much desire and deserve. Once we become capable of being content on our own, it better enables us to choose the right partner. Do I want to be with this person or am I just afraid to be alone? Does this person complement my lifestyle? Does this person impact my life in a positive way, add value to my life? These are the questions we are more equipped to answer once we’ve built a solid foundation within ourselves.

So while I know that one day I’ll likely make space in this dysfunctional little home for someone else, as we are all inclined to do, I don’t take for granted this time in life where I was the sole occupant, and I was enough. 

Long story short – the search for home has ended, I’ve already found it. Home is a day on the beach with a tray of oysters, home is where I type this blog post, tucked away in the corner of a bustling coffee shop, home is roaming the aisles of Trader Joe’s on a Friday night to cook something new, home is a bottle of wine and belly laughs with best friends. I carry home within me, she is shabby and cluttered and nothing matches, but she is built on a foundation of endless love and labor, and for now, that’s enough for me.