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It's not that I didn't want to go.

The spirit was willing, but the body wasn't feeling it.

Even the chance of a cheap, last-minute ticket through a friend wasn't enough to move the needle.

But I loathe regret.

Judging by the tsunami of Facebook posts the next day, missing Pink in concert would have had me pink with envy.

Overwhelmed by decision fatigue, I left it to fate... if the ticket sold on Trade Me, so be it; it wasn't meant to be.

And with two hours to go until gates opened, it wasn't looking likely.

I was all set to sink into the crease of the couch for the night when I got the text.

"The ticket's all yours."

Damn!

And then, it started to rain.

Just perfect - an open-air concert.

Even worse, I realized I'd be flying solo when my friend from Oz was in the standing section, and my ticket said seated in the stands.

Hello, Nelly-No-Mates!

But then I rationalised, I've travelled solo, eaten in restaurants solo, gone to the movies solo—how hard could going to a concert solo be?

So faced with fear, I switched off my brain, cranked my body into gear and walked out the door.

At least I had no expectations of meeting up with friends, even though I knew plenty who were going.

Even if I'd planned to, I wouldn't have found them in the sea of pink and the mobile network jamming texts for 24 hours.

But there was an upside to going solo: I could just observe and take it all in.

The high vibration emanating from thousands of women, young and old, was palpable.

And comforting.

I didn't feel alone.

I could've buddied up with anyone that night, all wrapped up in the same Pink bubble, empowered as a community and united in a shared experience with an amazing, kick-ass woman.

(I don't know where she got the energy from - pre-menopausal, no doubt!)

And even though I went to Pink feeling blue (sorry, I couldn't resist), the air was infused with infectious positive energy that made you feel alive.

Power-walking back to the train, a wave of gratitude washed over me.

I was thankful for the friend who had my back and made it all happen, the unexpected joy of bumping into a friend for the train ride home, and the universe for aligning things just so.

But most of all, I was thankful to myself—for pushing through the fear and fatigue, reaffirming my resilience and independence, and for finding joy and connection despite going solo.

Sometimes, the best adventures are those you have the courage to undertake alone.

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Until next time...

Janey :)

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