A birthday at 6500 feet: Finding independence in isolation

When I drove off the interstate and saw the Great Smoky Mountains in front of me, I began to see how isolated and tiny I was.

I sat in my car in awe and fear at the same time. Questions began to run through my head.

What was I doing here? Was I crazy?

Every mile I got closer, the color of the mountains began to awaken out of a dark silhouette but the feeling still sat deep in my soul.

Sure, I've been alone before, but never like this.

It took me a while to accept that I was an introvert. I never wanted to believe it. To me, being an introvert was a negative personality trait. It meant I was socially unaware, unable to make friends and unapproachable.

My entire life I stigmatized doing activities by myself. Go to the movies by myself? Are you kidding me? No way. Sit at a restaurant alone? No thanks, I'll eat at home. Go on vacation by myself? That's sad.

I'd only do things if other people were going to do them, and most of the time, it was stuff I didn't even want to do. I only did them because if I didn't, I might not get invited again. It was a sort of toxic dependency on others.

I was insecure so I lied to myself, and it stopped me from doing the things I wanted to do.

But when I impulsively wanted to hike the Smoky Mountains, I wasn't going to let my own self get in the way.

There was no use in being sad that no one was going with me. I had to get over myself and just do it.

I was about to embark on a journey of self-discovery that would not only challenge me physically but one that would challenge me psychologically.

I warmed up with a small hike before I got to my hotel. The Rainbow Falls trailhead awaited me.

Walking along, the yellow, red and orange colors enveloped me, and my fear and awkwardness seemed to float away like the leaves blown off the fall trees.

The following day, I awoke just before dawn to face my largest test: Mount Le Conte.

The fact that it was my 22nd birthday was the last thing on my mind. I drove about 30 minutes to the trailhead, and the park began to consume my car.

When I got to the base of the mountain, it seemed like I was the only one without a hiking partner. But it was too late to turn around now.

It was just bright enough to see the path. The sun hadn't come up above the valley yet, and it seemed like everything was colored a tint of blue and grey.

The longest five miles of my life awaited me: a slow uphill climb to the cave bluffs and then to the summit.

It seemed like forever before the sun finally peaked over the mountains, but when it did, it lit up the valley below me, spotlighting the golden leaves.

Step after step I slowly made my way up the face of the mountain. The isolation began to make me nervous. What if I fell? What if a bear came out of the tree line? Would anyone help if I found myself in trouble?

Sure, there were other people on the trail, but I couldn't help but almost spiral into a nervous breakdown about halfway through my ascent.

I managed to snap out of it and pushed through. The only motivator I needed was myself.

After a three-hour climb, I made it. All of a sudden a view of the entire park opened up to me.

I sat down on the cliff face and took it all in.

"Wow."

This was the best birthday gift I could've given to myself. And I wouldn't trade it for anything else.

I've done the parties. But nothing could ever live up to this. No amount of drinks, people or over-the-top celebration could match the freedom I felt.

For once in my life, I didn't care about anyone else, what anyone else thought of me or any other social pressures.

For once, I'd finally done something for myself and not just something I tagged along for just because someone invited me.

In that brief hour atop Mount Le Conte, I found myself, my real self. Not the David I was for other people, but the David I wanted to be.

I realized I needed this; I needed to be alone. I needed this moment to show myself it was OK.

It's OK to be introverted. It's OK to be independent. It's OK to say "no" to the function you don't actually vibe with. And it's OK to venture out alone.

If I could go back, I wouldn't change a thing. I was happy to be isolated, and I had finally found confidence in my reserved personality.

My biggest revelation: there's nothing like taking the time to be (by) yourself.

So to all my fellow insecure introverts out there, do your thing. Find who you are, and what it is you actually enjoy. Because until you do, you'll be robbing yourself of the most satisfying moments you'd experience in life.

Whether your retreat is solo hiking or reading a book, find your mountain peak.