Packing my suitcase for the first time after my breakup didn’t feel exciting. It felt terrifying.
Four weeks. Alone. On an island.
What if I didn’t meet anyone?
What if I just ended up in my Airbnb every night, drinking cheap wine and bingeing crappy Netflix shows?
I chose Gran Canaria because of its big digital nomad community. For ten years I’d dreamed of becoming one. But until now, I’d never been truly alone. Always a we. Never just me.
At the airport, waiting for my flight, I panicked. Then I opened the Slack group I’d been stalking for weeks, typed a short intro, and hit publish. Coffee, beach, drinks, snorkeling. No romance. Just friends. Then I boarded the plane.
👉 What happened next?
I wasn’t lonely. Not for a second.
I met amazing people.
I joined a gym. Did yoga at sunset. Learned to surf.
I even took myself out on dates—ice cream, coffee, long afternoons on the beach.
And when I didn’t meet anyone? I enjoyed my own company. I started listening to my body—connecting sleep, workouts, moods, water, and energy. I stopped compromising.
Did I do something stupid?
Yeah. Won a bottle of cava for a wet dress contest at a gay club. Don’t ask.
Did I do something wild?
Also yes. Hiked at night, under a sky full of stars, and screamed at the top of a mountain.
Did I cry?
Of course. Twice. Family drama. But did I apologize? Absolutely not.
Because I found something bigger: peace. Freedom.
I didn’t travel to escape. I traveled to find.
And I’ll do it again.
✨ My friend, if you’ve read this far—take this as a sign. Even a weekend away alone can change you. It’s not about running away. It’s about finding your own voice.