Hey Reader,

I sat outside the circle, feeling that familiar discomfort creep in. My body was tense, and my gaze scanned the room. The teacher had to invite me to join the group—a moment that highlighted a pattern I've lived with for years. Even when seeking connection, I position myself as an outsider.

Building Walls

The roots of this pattern run deep. In my final year of high school, I chose isolation in pursuit of academic excellence. When university rejections arrived, I retreated further, convinced that achievement would somehow bring the connection I craved.

The same pattern played out when I moved countries and even in my relationship. I'd arrive full of hope, construct invisible walls, then blame the place or circumstances for my loneliness, moving on.

The Bubble

My recent relationship revealed the cost of this pattern. Instead of truly connecting, we created a dream world in our bubble—another form of isolation masquerading as intimacy. When that bubble burst, I was confronted with the truth: my isolation isn't something that happens to me—it's something I actively create.

Alpine Solitude

During my quest to rediscover myself, I retreated to the Swiss Alps. Yet as days stretched into weeks, the familiar loneliness seeped in. In that silence, I saw my cycle clearly: seeking community, retreating into isolation, and repeating. That's when I decided to sign up for a dance class.

Finding Flow

The dance class taught me a crucial lesson: I feared to engage with the world. Each time I sat outside the circle, moved to a new country, or retreated to my safe space, I was choosing comfort over connection. While the class wasn't what I searched for—too technical, not enough flow—it showed me where to look.

The day after, I joined a group of entrepreneurs for a mental health discussion and sauna and cold plunge sessions. Joining the circle still felt uncomfortable, but I'm starting where I am.

Thanks for reading and until next week,

Jesse