I’ve always been the type of person to say ‘yes’ to music. Whether that’s a three-day country festival in the most remote part of the Midwest, or flying across the country to the driest desert in Las Vegas for Electric Daisy Carnival—I’ve always leaned in.

Music has always spoken to my soul, to my desire to escape the present day for a moment, and, regardless of where I was or what was going on in my life at the time, allowed me to feel free. So, unsurprisingly, when the opportunity to head to the two-day Into the Horizon Music Festival—this time in my San Diego backyard—came up, I was all on board.

Until I realized that none of my friends could come along.

Naturally, I hesitated. The prospect of going to a music festival alone was heavy. Being post-divorce by only a matter of months, I’d never felt more alone in my life. But that’s when it hit me—I wasn’t alone. I have always been my own company. I have always been my own sunshine. And regardless of whether I was participating in a 5K, sipping a latte at a coffee shop, attending one of my bonus son’s ballgames, or walking into a lawyer’s office to advocate for educational rights—all things I’ve done alone—a concert really wouldn’t be that different. Right?!

So I bought the tickets.

And as time got closer, and I leaned more and more into the decision, I realized that some of my ‘fears’ around going alone were because of preconceived notions or expectations about what I was ‘supposed’ to do or how I was supposed to feel.

I also realized that discomfort around this experience (and post-divorce life in general) was so instrumental in not only my overall healing, but in my ability to really lean into my own emotions, perceptions, and experiences fully.

So, TLDR, I went to a music festival alone—and here’s what I learned:

1. Our desire to be in community, while valid, is also a coping mechanism for not wanting to feel uncomfortable.

If there’s one resounding message I learned from going to a music festival alone, it’s this. We’d much rather be in community (even if that community hinders our growth) than force ourselves to be uncomfortable. And while that’s valid, it’s incredibly limiting.

I see this over and over in social settings. Think about a birthday party, for example. How many times have you gone to a friend or family member’s party and gravitated to the people you know (sat by them, talked with them, etc.) rather than sitting with or striking up a conversation with someone new?

We’re creatures of habit, but more than that—we’re wired to pursue what’s comfortable. Even if that’s at the cost of growth. So, whether we’re talking about a concert or an intimate get-together, it feels important to us to seek out the familiarity.

But, the minute we abandon that (aka: go to a concert alone), we’re forced to redefine not only who or what our community is and seek it out in new (and arguably more authentic ways), but we’re also pushed to find comfort within ourselves rather than seeking external validation or connection.

2. ‘Community’ isn’t just about the people we know or feel familiar with.

The idea of ‘community’ only being the people we know or love is an illusion. And we know this because it’s the only way we build new relationships—romantic, platonic, or otherwise. These connections start from somewhere, and more often than not, from experiences outside of our immediate community. Yet, we so quickly forget this the moment we’re in a new social setting. We gravitate, again, to what we know.

However, the minute we redefine community as anyone around us—as the collective whole—experiencing life together, we begin to see that we’re never alone. We can find connection anywhere, as long as we’re open and receptive.

3. When you stop feeling pressured to ‘show up’ in a certain way, you actually allow the real you to emerge.

Sometimes we unconsciously trade our authenticity for comfort or ‘fitting in’ with the people or energy around us. But authentic energy is revealed in the moments you allow yourself to pursue what it is you actually desire.

This truth came to light for me when I decided to part ways with some acquaintances I met at the concert and go my own way. Instead of leaving the dance floor for a bathroom break and drinks (which would have cost me my spot on the grounds), I stayed and moved closer. This ended up with me being able to reach the front row (!!) for my favorite DJ—an experience I never would have been able to have if I followed the crowd rather than my own intuition and heart.

4. Being afraid doesn’t equate to a lack of safety, and isn’t inherently a ‘bad’ thing.

When I first stepped onto the music festival grounds, I felt awkward. I felt nervous. I even felt a little afraid. It seemed like everyone was looking at me (they weren’t) and that people would easily recognize that I was alone (they didn’t care). I was so focused on the outward and external experiences rather than my own.

I was seeking validation in others, rather than in myself.

But here’s the truth about feeling ‘awkward’ or ‘scared’—it allows you to push past and experience your actual energy. What do you really feel, want, or care about? When you know, you can actually make choices that resonate for you.

And, just because something feels new or different doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a threat. You have to identify whether what you’re feeling is a trauma response to something that’s happened to you in your past or a real threat to safety. Feeling ‘unsafe’ is more than just feeling unsteady.

5. You embody the joy you wish to have.

Something that really sat with me as I grew comfortable going to a music festival alone—laughing, dancing, and feeling free—is that it wasn’t a relationship or partner that made the experience fun. It wasn’t being with my friends or in community. It wasn’t alcohol, drugs, or caffeine.

It was simply me.

You don’t need other people to have fun. You don’t need the perfect circumstances, situation, or even substances. You can experience, cultivate, or even create the joy you wish to have—because you ARE IT ALREADY.