My walkabout served me well. Friends, the city, society... they are all louder sensations than my own feelings. Focusing past them is very difficult without arranging some kind of sensory deprivation. So I spent about half the trip alone, and it was very rewarding.
The experience by myself, juxtaposed with my reintegration upon return, confirmed that I'll be happier when my work allows me to leave the Bay, to work flexible hours, and to live slowly and simply. I'm doubtful that taking a tech job, even a more people/management role instead of engineering, would suit me for very long. Maybe I should stick to short gigs, contracting. But actually, coaching will suit me much better; more on this in a subsequent post.
Giving myself my due attention also stirred up a desire for expression that I hadn't felt in a long, long time. Express I did, by taking risks, making messes, being imperfect, playing, and exploring. Why is it still so hard to access these parts of myself normally?
I spent a lot of time processing grief. I've made it no secret that a breakup this year has been extremely painful. Why did this one hurt so much, while the prior felt more like a reasonable adjustment? The unsatisfactory nature of its ending didn't explain it for me. What feels more right is that in the context of this relationship some deeply hidden parts of myself felt seen for perhaps the first time, and losing access to that mechanism left me feeling stranded, abandoned. Shortly before I left on the trip, it occurred to me that if this is correct, then there is something I can do about it: each time something reminded me and I felt that stab in the gut, to stop and look for that part of myself and try to provide it with love and expression on my own. The pain would point the way toward its own healing.
Then I spent time with other people, and it was also fruitful. I shared some of my arts: curating experiences, creating safety and comfort, gently leading by example. I felt fully seen and appreciated in these regards.
I seeing myself, others seeing me: more than healing the disconnects that underlied my grief, I think they might be bringing about more changes, as if I'm becoming due for a molt. Especially, I suspect that there may be parts of me that I've kept well-hidden even from myself and are seeking to come out of the closet. It is just a vague sense at this point—if it doesn't get drowned out by all the stimulation now that I'm back.
There is one piece of this emerging aspect of identity that has become clear in recent days, which is what kind of coaching I would like to do. Again, more on this soon.