Alone, Unfamiliar, & Finally Present

Read time: 2.5 minutes

10 days ago, I landed in a city where I don’t really know anyone.

• No go-to gym.

• No familiar faces.

• No cozy fallback routines to rest into.

• No friends texting to meet up for dinner.

• No favourite barista who knows my name.

And to be honest?

That was kind of the point.

I came here thinking I’d use the space to build something.

A new offer. A new container. A new direction for the business.

But Life....

It had other plans.

It didn’t ask me to build outward. It asked me to rebuild inward.

To feel. To slow down.

To meet myself — without the context, without the community, without the momentum I’m so used to leaning on.

Because when you’re in a city where no one knows you…

You can’t just walk into your favourite café and run into someone you trust.

You can’t default into old patterns.

You can’t use your environment to define who you are.

You have to choose. Every day.

Who you want to Be.

And that choice is deeply confronting when you realize:

I speak a lot about presence. About alignment. About Being with Life.

But if I’m honest?

I’ve been skipping steps.

I’ve been so busy supporting others in their becoming that I forgot to stay close to my own.

And now, without the structure of my old environment…

I’m seeing things I haven’t looked at in a long time.

Old thoughts. Old patterns. Old stories that were so familiar, I stopped questioning them.

• Who am I when no one’s watching?

• Who am I when I don’t have people to pour into?

• Who am I when I spend eight hours a day in silence with myself?

These questions have been loud lately.

And not in a dramatic, existential way. But in a gentle, humbling, deeply human way.

They’ve shown up when I walk past people speaking a language I don’t fully understand.

They’ve shown up when I want connection… but it means reaching out to a stranger and inviting conversation.

They’ve shown up in the quiet of the apartment, in between meals, in between calls, in the stretch of day where I’d normally find stimulation — but instead I’m offered stillness.

And here’s what I’m learning:

Discomfort reveals. Novelty opens. And presence humbles.

Because this isn’t a pause. This is a preparation.

This is what it means to truly become — not just build.

• To rebuild the inner structures I’ve outgrown.

• To re-meet myself in this moment of solitude.

• To recalibrate to a version of me that doesn’t need recognition to feel real.

I came here with the intention of building a product.

And now, halfway through my trip, I've already reconnected with my presence.

So if you’re in a season where things feel slower than you expected…

If your usual distractions have been stripped…

If you’re finding yourself face-to-face with your thoughts in new ways…

Maybe this isn’t a season of loss. Maybe it’s a season of clarity.

Maybe the thing you think you’re missing… Is just making space for the next layer of who you’re here to become.

And maybe—just maybe—

I’m learning to trust that. And I’m learning to meet myself here.

Fully.

Thank you for reading.

With Love,

Julian