Being in Tofino felt like a dream coming true to the the extent that I wanted someone to pinch me. And, at the same time, I was facing some of the recurring struggles in my life. 

People had warned me that this would happen. And just like anything, knowing something intellectually is entirely different than the distinction that arises when you experience things first hand. There’s something about the energy in Tofino. The stormy weather. The power of the waves. The shadows of the trees. It sparks something in you. In me, at least.

It brought to the surface those things that I could more easily hide amongst the crowded streets of Montreal. I had a feeling it would.

During the day, I’d embrace the beauty surrounding me. While night time awakened the loneliness demons living inside of me. Loneliness was omnipresent ever since hitting the road. This question often lurked inside my head: Did this experience even matter if I had no one to share it with? As I found myself sitting at the same bar several nights a week in hope of making new connections, I sometimes doubted that it did. 

In a world where there are so many ways to be “connected” it can be uncomfortable admitting feeling lonely. Yet I reckon that people feel lonelier now then the days before social media told us that we are only cool if we post perfectly edited photos of ourselves, at the coolest spot in town, surrounded by a group of friends.

Loneliness isn’t only for those who are alone. It can be found in those who are married, who work in social settings, or are part of a “team.” Feeling lonely in a crowd is way more common than we would like to think. On the flip side, solitude doesn’t necessarily equate to loneliness — time spent in solitude is essential to a thriving life. But too much time spent with loneliness and we wilt.

The desire to share my excitement for the magnificent sunsets, for catching that one wave, for how delicious the fish burrito at TacoFino was, grew exponentially with every new moment captured. This heightened awareness of wanting to share this life with someone led to shutting down the emotions quickly as a protective mechanism. I practiced returning to a baseline that stopped me from feeling too much. It felt easier, but then again, I’ve never been good at hiding how I truly feel. Most of us aren’t.

Overcoming the grip of loneliness was the reason why Tofino had pulled me in. It was the dragon that I had to slay. I just didn’t quite know how to yet.  

…

I often sat on the other side of loneliness. The side where I was the space for someone to feel heard and supported. 

A tall young man with long hair and tattoos on his forearms was sitting at the table next to mine at Rhinos, the coffee shop I often worked out of during the day. I had noticed him when we were the only ones there the day before. My first thought had been; “Cool, I’m not the only one who comes here almost everyday.” But there was something different about him that day.

He had a little notebook opened in front of him. A blue ink pen had written a few words but for the most part, the page was blank. I caught him staring off into the distance a lot. I felt that his mind was filled with more thoughts he knew what to do with. That they were begging for a place to go. I was there to focus on work but it didn’t seem all that important in that moment.

“Can I ask you something?” I asked.

“Sure.” He said after taking a moment to process the fact that I was indeed asking him the question.

“What are you thinking about?” I was direct and it surprised me. But it needed to happen.

Without hesitation, he cracked open and let me in. His heart was broken. After moving here with his girlfriend she called things off, only to run off with someone else a few days later. They all worked at the same resort, which is as in your face as it gets. He was in the repetitive cycle of asking himself; What went wrong? and wondering how he would make things work here. The cycle where the questions are asked yet answers nowhere to be found.

It was one of the most raw conversations I ever had with a stranger. I felt for him and within a few minutes we weren’t strangers anymore. Despite whatever judgements might be bestowed upon him because of his tough tattooed appearance, his eyes showed what a kind and loving human being he is. He trusted me with his vulnerability and I treated him with all the respect that he deserved.

He sent me a text later on to thank me for our conversation. Our paths crossed only a couple times after that. I have a feeling he left town shortly afterwards. I wonder where he is now.

How often do we catch people staring off into the distance the way he was and feel it within ourselves to ask the simple question that could break their cycle of loneliness, even if just for a few minutes? I suppose it isn’t enough to ask but I think it’s worth it to listen. 

Life in Tuff City taught me to strike up a conversation with the person sitting alone at the bar scrolling through their phone. To treat strangers like old friends. That even if they may decline, it’s worth inviting them to join your party and them feeling welcomed, then them never knowing at all. Sure they may be a little loonie, but if they are in the same places where you hang out, chances are they are pretty cool. Give them a chance to show you. 

Living in Tofino forced me to find ways to deal with this feeling we don’t like to admit experiencing. I have not yet fully figured out loneliness, but it was teaching me a few things.

It taught me to put myself out there more than it felt comfortable to. It became routine for me to take a deep breath and walk into Shelter to sit alone at the bar to see who I could either strike up a conversation with or eaves drop on. I gave out my number to anyone who asked and accepted any offer to hang out. I volunteered at the SUP Surf competition and met some amazing people from different parts of Canada. I made a point of asking the names of every barista, cashier, server, and stranger I met.

At times it felt exhausting. In fact, paddling into big waves felt easier. But for the most part it felt damn good when it paned out. I met interesting people and my desire for connection seemed to get filled in as days went on.

Yet I still felt ashamed for feeling lonely in such a beautiful place. Who was I to feel lonely when I was living the dream? I had chosen this.

I didn’t want the world to see how something so wonderful could also lead to crying myself to sleep on many nights. Never had I experienced such ups and downs emotionally as I did in Tofino. Mother Nature’s force in this place brought out sides of me I had not fully looked at before. It wasn’t that I wasn’t ready for it, it was that I didn’t want to go there. But I needed to figure out how to strike a balance because the energy in Tofino has a way of making you face your demon, even when you don’t want to. So you may as well surrender to it.

Surrender often came after a bout of resistance. On days when the ocean roared and storms brewed, I’d write to make sense of it all. When the waves were good, I’d go surfing. So there I was. Figuring out the process of a dream. One surf session at a time.