You’re On Your Own, Kid. You Always Have Been.

It was a trip planned almost a year ago. We agreed to come to Arizona to watch the Gilbert Grumble – my sister KK’s three pugs – while she ventured off to Ireland. It was supposed to be a two-person job. Three pugs are not a thing one person should undertake alone. Especially when they don’t know you. We had met two of them last year – Fiona & Bella – when we traveled out here to surprise KK for her 60th birthday.

Flights were booked. A side trip to Sedona was planned because it’s the most beautiful place on earth. Yet here I am, sitting in Sedona alone – fishing a bug out of my Chardonnay as I write on the banks of Oak Creek. Because people are allowed to make their own choices. And the choices of the person I was supposed to have this adventure with weren’t conducive to maintaining a healthy relationship.

KK told me I didn’t have to make the journey alone. Managing a grumble of pugs is not easy alone. (The term “grumble” comes from what they literally sound like with their little, stubby noses!). And while I admit that it is not easy, I have never been one to back down from a challenge although getting them to sit in their car seats is a post of its own.

I arrived Saturday & brought KK & her husband to the airport for their trip to Ireland Sunday morning. The grumble & I regarded each other warily when I returned without their parents. But after a few mornings of relaxing in the recliner with a blanket & three pugs snoring, they seem to have accepted me as one of their own. (The oldest, Fiona, will literally bark at me if we don’t have “blanket time” after breakfast and/or if the blanket is not draped across my legs just so.)

The Sedona trip is where it hits different. This was supposed to be our getaway. Time alone to reconnect at a spot we fell in love with last year. I considered not going – we had booked the same room we were in last year & did I really want to bring all that back up? In a moment of bravery I kept the reservation & dropped the grumble at doggie daycare (see above about them sitting in their car seats) then drove the 140 miles to Sedona through treacherous mountain passes, stopping at one of the sketchiest places on earth for a break (noted for the ride home).

Checking in, the front desk asked if the other party would be joining me later. Recalling that we had made the reservation for two adults, I stammered through explaining that I would be on my own for this trip.

Once upstairs in my room, I sat, not sure what to do with myself. A thunderstorm rolled through making everything feel fresh & when it was over, I decided to venture out on my own. Instead of licking my wounds & feeling sorry for myself, I went to a few shops & found a gluten free Italian place for dinner. (If anyone inquired about why I was eating alone, my back story was that my family had been murdered & I had tracked the killer to Sedona. No one inquired. )

I spent the rest of the time exploring the beautiful landscape, shops, restaurants, & wineries that make up Sedona. I looked up homes for sale & while that’s not a thing I can do now, decided that I will someday own a home amongst the red rocks. I ate breakfast on the beautiful deck of the Inn I was at & wrote by the riverside.

Because in the end, no one’s coming for me. No one is coming to save me. I have to do it myself. I have to do it alone. I have to do it unsure & awkward, with shoulders back & head held high like I have a clue. Pushing aside the insecurity, the worry, the wondering if I’m good enough. Because, relationship or not, I’m the only one with my best interests at heart. If I don’t do it for myself, no one will.

So do it scared. Do it alone. Do it with no idea what the outcome will be but just because it’s something you’ve always wanted to do. Do it regardless of who tells you that you can’t, that you shouldn’t, “What will people say?”

Fuck ’em. You’re on your own, kid. You always have been.