The space between

When I realized I needed space to discover who this new being was wanting to come through.

Anyone who knows me (like, really knows me) knows four things:

(1) I abhor the cold. Like, I will die if I am in the cold for too long. It burns my skin. My extremities immediately lose all blood and turn to ice. I physically can’t withstand cold. (Hi, Puerto Rican by birth. It’s in my blood. This tropical babe isn’t built for the tundra.

(2) I don’t like to leave my house. Ever. Pre-pandemic, I was searching for ways to make my permanent profession something that could be done from my home office. Post-pandemic, I’ve learned how to actually never leave my house.

(3) I am terrified of the night. Actually terrified. If I’m going to be home at night by myself (or with my kids), I’m in the house before sundown. Doors locked. Up on the 2nd or 3rd floor. Bedroom door barricaded.

(4) I live and die for the beach. If I’m having a meltdown about something, put me near the water with my feet in the sand, and suddenly, I’m at peace. It’s magic.

So when I realized I had the itch to get away - like really away, by myself, alone - I was surprised by the urge.

I tried every which way to talk myself out of it. Tried to figure out ways in which I could create space for myself while still in my house, around people.

But suddenly, my house felt suffocating.

My roles felt like straight jackets.

My people felt like lemon juice over tiny cuts.

I needed space. Me time. Sleep.

My old life, identity, way of being felt stagnant. I didn’t fit anymore. But the person I am becoming - she’s still too far away to reach. I can feel her in my bones, but I don’t know her yet. I am not her yet.

I knew I needed to get away. I needed the space to discover who this new being was that wanted to come through. But I needed to go alone.

I’ve never gone anywhere alone.

I’ve traveled alone, but always to meet someone on the other end.

I’ve never gone anywhere that was truly alone. Overnight. By myself. Alone.

And so I went.

My soul made the reservations while my mind protested.

My heart led the way while my body resisted.

As I walked out the door, my husband said, “You don’t seem very excited. I’d think you’d be happier. You seem frazzled.”

I was. Because I was going alone.

I drove the 2 hours from home to my favorite place outside of my house: the ocean.

When I got there, I went straight to my favorite coffee shop. I sat and slowly enjoyed my coffee. I caught up on emails. Checked in with clients. People watched.

And when I got the alert from the hotel that my room was ready, I packed up and went.

As I was leaving the coffee shop, I realized something - having freedom of space and time was something my soul was craving. Needing.

There was no time limit to my time in the coffee shop. There was nowhere to be. No one waiting for me. No one depending on me to relieve them of child care duties. No dinner to make. No laundry to fold.

Nothing.

There was no demand on my time.

I don’t know who this new version of me is that wants to come through. But I understand that she needs space to breathe. She needs space to hear herself think. She needs time to just be. Without labels. Without demands. Without anything other than her own desires.

Old Tina resisted being alone. Old Tina felt uncertain when she was alone.

New Tina thrives in solitude.

New Tina, apparently, goes for walks on the beach, even when it’s 12 degrees outside. Even when the wind is whipping and her nose is frozen.

As I walked back from the beach, I found myself wondering if Old Tina would have liked this too, but she was too afraid to try.

I don’t know who New Tina is. She isn’t clear to me yet. But what I do know is that I won’t put off her arriving by holding tightly to who I used to be.

I don’t think my hate of the cold or love of the beach will ever change. I’m pretty sure those things are coded into my DNA.

But perhaps I could learn to love solitude, outside of my house.

Perhaps that’s who New Tina is.

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If this resonates, I write about transformation, shadow work, and threshold walking every week. Subscribe to receive new posts in your inbox.

Who are you becoming that you don’t quite know yet? Comments are open - I’d love to hear what’s emerging for you.