I’m often asked how I’m doing. I do my best to put on a good face, but the truth is that some days my mental state is all over the place. The hardest part of this transition is the solitude. She Who Saves the Planet from Exploding Refineries is traveling more than she’s supposed to which means that more days than not the only words I hear are my own. And that’s only when I start talking to the cats.

Last fall I went from years of office chatter, Slack channels (previously Campfire) full of banter and animated GIFs, lunch dates, Skype meetings, phone calls, and the occasional happy hour to a twice daily scrum with cats. On an average day, my inbox received anywhere from 150-200 messages. Now, it’s quiet. God help you if we talk by phone or Skype. I’ll talk your ear off like an AARP member who calls QVC to chat about air purification systems, because the kids have stopped visiting, and Matlock isn’t on for another hour.

If I’ve learned anything about myself in the last couple of months, it’s that I would make a horrible cast away. At least I’ve got cats.

Grandma Storey once asked me what I thought hell was. Her question was pretty deep for a twelve-year-old. I hadn’t given it much thought beyond the fire and lava pits depicted in Sunday school. In response, she told me that her idea of hell was to be “truly alone.” Now that I think about it, she may have been reflecting on her situation at the time. Earlier in the year she had lost her husband leaving only his grandfather clock to fill the house with sound–not nearly enough to replace his booming personality. That said, I thought my version of hell, with the fire and the lava, was much more frightening.

Back to the present time, honestly, I’m in a good place. I am grateful to have the opportunity to take time to figure out exactly what I want to do next and with whom. Each week brings new ideas, introductions, and potential. It has been great to talk to so many people about possibilities, conversations that otherwise would likely have not taken place.

I look forward to being a part of a team again, having a Slack account, Inbox 200, non-QVC phone calls, meetings, reviews, and happy hours—though sooner than later. If this “solace” continues much longer, I might have to get a fern and that, Grandma, would be hell to me.