Out of My Shell
On solitude and self expression
There is a particular kind of solitude that comes with building a life somewhere new.
Since starting this new chapter in Siwa, my time fluctuates between being surrounded by people, days full and busy, and then sometimes weeks passing without the kind of familiar connections I deeply need.
I want to be clear, I am an introvert-extrovert, perhaps 60/40, and solitude is genuinely nourishing for me. It’s a necessity. But living here has taught me the difference between choosing solitude and finding yourself without the anchors of a community you already know. One feels like coming home to yourself, the other feels like being locked out.
I have felt shame around admitting this. I chose to be here, I am building something meaningful, I am welcomed warmly by locals and deeply guided by this place. I have beautiful opportunities. How could I feel this way? I have to live up to my choices — am I doing something wrong?
But I’m understanding that different feelings can coexist, and that one doesn’t invalidate the other. Of course moving alone to a foreign country at 33, with a different culture, language and way of life, to build something with no initial blueprint, is going to be challenging. Of course it is. A few honest conversations with friends recently helped me see that there is nothing to be ashamed of, and that this experience is far more common than I’d realised. A close friend told me that it took her five years before truly feeling at home in the city she moved to.
And yet I’m sensing there is a deeper layer to this. These feelings led me toward something else, something that may have been quietly contributing to keeping me in this experience.
I have always struggled with feeling safe to be fully seen and expressed. It’s not something I arrived at easily or all at once. But recently, reading my astrological birth chart, something was brought to light — according to my Chiron in Leo placement, not feeling safe to be fully seen and expressed is in fact my deepest wound. It confirmed what I already knew but hadn’t yet fully named.
And I'm beginning to wonder if this solitude is not entirely circumstantial. If it is, at least in part, a symptom of something deeper. A guardedness that surfaces in quiet ways — holding back before letting someone in, the fear of being too much or not enough. That when you don't feel safe to be fully yourself, genuine connection becomes more challenging, even when the desire for connection is very much there. The longing to be known, and the fear of it, living side by side.
Siwa has made this impossible to ignore.
I came back to Egypt a few weeks ago after time with close friends and family. I was excited to return, but the contrast hit differently this time. The frustration of not fully understanding conversations happening around me, not being able to express what I want to say. It made me retreat into my shell — like the sensitive Cancer moon I am. Thankfully, clarity came the next day.
I can’t help noticing that being in Siwa, in this new environment, learning a new language just to be able to express myself, meeting new people constantly, is not incidental. There is an irony I am only now fully seeing. I am literally learning a new language just to be able to express myself, my deepest wound playing out in the most literal way possible. Perhaps Siwa knew what it was doing when it called me here. This is the wound asking to be healed. This place is the medicine.
I have always found comfort in creative expression. From a very young age, dancing and singing were my outlet — I would recreate my favourite artists video clips, learning the lyrics, the choreography, even the style (thank you MTV). I still love dancing and singing just as much, though without the need to dress like Britney or Cleopatra (the girl band). Creativity remains my most direct route to myself. Through clothes daily, music, photography, jewellery making, painting, writing. In that world I feel completely at ease, fully myself. Safe.
I believe that in part, this is what led me to building Irane Gagben — a space where creativity and connection become a path back to oneself. The healing I seek, I also offer. And creativity has always been where I find my way back.
I choose to be in Siwa to create a space to hold the unfolding of those who feel called — one that nourishes and heals, supporting someone to return to themselves, reconnect to their creativity, find something they didn’t know they were looking for. My purpose here is clear and immediate. And when I return to this, whatever I’ve been wrestling with dissolves and gives me strength to face every challenge.
Some dear friends said goodbye yesterday and left the loveliest letter on the wooden desk in the bedroom of our sanctuary. One phrase deeply moved me — “We are inspired by the way you follow your intuition and how you create space for others to follow theirs.” It brings tears to my eyes and such warmth to my heart, that my friends see me, and help me see myself more clearly. And reading this, I realise — this wound lives mostly in my head.
I'm learning to hold all of this, I think it's all just part of the journey. And the most tender work is learning to trust myself, to let what is within me come forward, and to meet my own thoughts with a little more grace.
I’ll be honest, I hesitated to share this. A voice said I should have it more together, especially as someone who holds space for others at Irane Gagben. But I’ve come to believe it’s precisely this kind of honesty that creates real connection and healing.
Sharing these words here is itself a step out of the shell. I want to feel safe to be fully myself. Not sometimes, not in the right conditions, but always. And I hope it inspires others to do the same.
❤️