Dublin, January 25th, 8 degrees celsius, mostly cloudy. UV? Zero. Light rain.
If you ever find yourself having a day where nothing seems quite right, or even the thought of leaving your house seems like too much of an effort, this might be for you. It’s a dreary Sunday in mid January in Ireland. The sun hasn’t been out for more than 20 minutes over the last week. Although, as I’m writing this, I notice the sunset’s particularly striking nature so I’m taking this slight break in the weather as a heartwarming sign that today is, in fact, a good day despite how it started. Rolling out of bed past 11am in winter is never a comforting feeling, regardless of how much rest you need. There’s always a level of guilt that creeps in, and especially on these cold winter days you become acutely aware of how much daylight you have missed by sleeping in. The unwritten curfew countdown has begun, with sunset marked to be at 4:55 according to my weather app.
Realising all of my friends are busy, my boyfriend included, I sighed realising: today I am alone.
Usually, I quite enjoy my alone time, more than most. However, something was in the waters that turned the tide of my once welcome alone time into loneliness. The creative ways I could think to fill my passing time were suddenly daunting tasks to do alone. Social anxiety plays a part in this, as there’s a comfort in knowing that when I am with others, the outside world seems easier to navigate. However, today it really took hold on me, gripping at all sides, as if I were made of lead magnetising me to stay in my accommodation. But, this is where I need you to bear with me, and if you find yourself in this situation: alone, lonely or just struggling to get out of the house. Here’s what I did.
Step 1: Get out of bed. A small step forward and I congratulated myself for it. In a small and silly effort to get my brain to recognise the positive reward of completing a small task.
Step 2 : “War Paint”. If I am to meet the world, I want the world to meet me in a way that I could feel comfortable presenting. Thus, a layer of makeup was applied and a quick winged eyeliner to really feel myself. Now, if I do decide to leave, first of all I don’t want to waste a fresh face, but also I can be prepared just in case so as to not look as estranged as I feel.
Step 3 : Plan. This part is by far the most fun or draining part. You can head out the door and let your feet guide you, or make a plan of attack to really feel a driven purpose.
After all of those steps I decided on a plan, making sure I had my room key and my airpods, a must if I am to be alone. The music started playing and I started walking. I walked myself all the way to The Pig and Heifer, one of my favourite sandwich spots. I figured if I were with my friends or boyfriend I would want to go there all the same, so why not treat myself as I would treat my friends? After all, you may be alone, but familiar comfort can be found in many places and in this instance, for me, it was a sandwich.
Immediately I was met with a queue of people, and I suddenly realised that I was back in the world. Though a small place, relative to most bustling businesses in Dublin city, it was enough to make me feel a part of something, even by myself. While ordering my food and waiting, I overheard people’s conversations and awkwardly waited for my order to be called, now a little too aware of my posture or where my arms sat, with my music playing. But pushing past this I relaxed a little in the comfort of the waiting, still feeling proud that I was not only alone, but I was okay and no longer entirely lonely. “Mile high sandwich to go!”, a younger brunette worker called; “That’s me! thank you so much!” With the brown paper bag of my wrapped comfort food now snuggly stowed in my handbag, I decided to keep walking, now beginning to enjoy myself again and really breathing in the air.
As I walked, I noticed a group of people I assumed to be my own age walk by. A sudden pang in my chest brought me back to that lonely feeling, and at this point I had to really battle with myself to sit with it. Where could I go where I would feel a collective belonging, but also be able to be a complete ghost in a crowd?
The National Gallery of Ireland.
I walked through the side doors, grateful again that admission is free, to immediately find hundreds of people scattered and gathered around the open spaces. People in the coffee shop enjoying their lunches and small coffees, older couples, families, tourists, young children, solo travelers, and myself. People darting off in every direction: up the stairs to view Picasso’s work on display, to the stairs to the cloak room, couples darting to pathways veering left, others to the right and finding themselves happily lost in a labyrinth of art. I smiled to myself. This was it. I could blend in a way with something to do and nothing to do at the same time. All I needed to do was walk around, and no matter where I went there were people. Warmth and people. At one point, I had the soundtrack of The Da Vinci Code playing in my ears and suddenly thought of the Louvre and Professor Langdon (any Dan Brown readers will know what I mean) looking at the art, looking for hidden symbols within the paintings or even in the gallery itself. With the tune of “Chavaliers De Sangreal” now playing, it became a fun game to pass the time.
I then found myself wondering how many people across the entire world, in different galleries were looking for a collective and doing exactly what I was doing myself.
I was no longer alone; though I was by myself, no part of me felt lonely. I spent about two hours there, sauntering around and if I found myself a little moment to sit, I did. I kept going until the smell of the sandwich in my bag reminded me that I hadn’t eaten, and the waft of fresh bread hit my nostrils, igniting the colours of my stomach. Even the reds on the canvasses began to hum with hunger … I came to feed my eyes, but the bread in my bag started a small rebellion. So thus I made my way out, deciding on heading home to make a coffee and enjoy my food.
As I walked home, I peered into the coffee shops that lined Nassau St, and realised the importance of public spaces. I had the joy of no longer feeling lonely, and a deepened sense of belonging to a wider collective of strangers. How strange to be comforted by unknowing strangers and to be a stranger back?
Sometimes, you just need a reminder to get out of your head and get out into the world as a stranger. Even as a passing figure in someone else’s crowd.
