I’d like you all to meet my new boyfriend. He wears a nice tweed jacket and pants rolled up to show off his laced up oxfords. He has a bit of scruff that works nicely off of his dark curls. His cappuccino cup reads “Carlo” and he peeks inside his pastry bag alongside the Business Insider portion of the Wall Street Journal. Okay, truth: this was really the man sitting next to me the other day at my coffee shop. Lie: he’s not my boyfriend. But I could really use one, like, now.

It was inevitable, I suppose – seeing my ex in a relationship with someone else. Could anything really have prepared me for that moment? Probably not. Some time has passed now and I’m doing alright. I took a couple self-care days, cooked nourishing meals for the body and said yes to social events that would nourish my soul too. I won’t lie, I had some retail therapy as well thanks to an Athleta catalog and a post-brunch impromptu shoe store stop. What it really came down to though was some QT with my cuties. Reaching out to friends, chatting, laughing, feeling my strength from those who help hold me up.

Another really good friend of mine had an all day birthday bonfire recently. I settled into the sand and the birthday boy came right up and sat next to me. He said “you’re in your happy place, aren’t you?” He couldn’t have been more right. I was, one, elated that he could see what I felt, two, elated at being elated, three, excited he was sharing the elatedness with me. So that’s how I ground these days and I hope forever.

By surrounding myself with good people, good energy and the goodness of connection and the human experience, I feel, well, good.

This same friend hosted a dinner party this week. He brought together twelve-ish people into one San Francisco apartment kitchen, poured them wine (made sure said glass was always full without mixing wines – now that’s a good host) and cooked them an incredible dinner. I can only hope the other eleven people in the room felt what I felt.

The great thing about dinner parties is not just the good food, wine and company but watching each person shine in their unique beauty, and getting to witness your own. At least for me – this is place I can fully be myself. Take the mic for a hot second (usually to unapologetically embarrass myself) and then sit back into the couch, shoulder to shoulder with a new or old friend, and hear someone else’s story, joke, honesty, raw authenticity.

The sad party for me is when that first person calls it. People trickle after that but maybe it’s perfect like that. It preserves a night as it is – until the next one.

This same friend would have placed a bookmark in my stream of consciousness here before my above tangent. Not to worry, I’m circling back. This week I felt vulnerable. My vulnerability made me feel more sensitive at work, sensitive socially and I reacted instead of calling myself out and being real with what I was feeling and letting that truly be okay. Fighting it put me on the defense in other areas of my life where I usually feel my strength.

Weakness can’t have me when I’m laughing, when I’m with the best people, when I’m me in my happy place. That’s not say i’m ignoring my hurt, my vulnerability, my sadness. It’s just that I’m in the company of all of those not so fun emotions and choosing to see the good that surrounds me. It surrounds me at dinner parties, surrounds me now as I watch a Justin Timberlake Live show onNetflix while it’s pouring rain outside, surrounds me every single moment.

I choose to be in my happy place, now. I know that another day, another moment, it may be harder to choose that but I can create memories to come back to. That way I can drop into that feeling of wholeness, remember me at my happy and in effect, create a dinner party for myself. Party of twelve, party of one, it’s still a party.