No woman is an island

Castle living, debunking bullshit about women-only spaces, and my emerging suspicion that I’m a penguin.

Dear Earthling,

I have been living in a castle in Normandy for the past month and a half. An actual CASTLE! I wish I could say this was my childhood dream come true, but as a kid I wanted to be the yellow Power Ranger, not a princess… and that’s why I was in one of the (old) servants’ rooms on the top floor and quite happy about it. :)

To whoever asked about the experience, I’ve only been able to describe it as nice and amazing and fun, dull words that don’t really explain anything. My lack of eloquence is due to a mix of still processing the whole thing, overwhelm, and a certain degree of jealousy that makes me want to keep the memories to myself.

This letter is not even supposed to be about the castle… Don’t get me wrong: living in a castle is pretty cool. I loved reading or chatting by the crackling fire in the evening and going on walks to the river in the morning — those rare times I didn’t get lost on dead-end trails or distracted by mysterious toilets or overgrown tennis courts. I loved sliding around in my socks on the creaky hardwood floors and running up and down the spiral “dizzy” staircase. I loved peeking out of my attic window to see the pink and purple sky over the flooded marsh. I loved watching the yellow leaves flicker on the trees, still hanging on for dear life in a tremulous applause, instead of working or writing. I loved how the quiet around me kept my sensory overload at bay: no longer stuck in a loop of annoying noises, my brain felt like it could breathe.

Yet, funnily enough, the castle was not my reason for being at the castle. I did not google “how to live in a castle in France” (as someone else epically did). I went there to see some of my favourite women, who happened to be meeting in a French castle for a couple of weeks. Can your favourite people be online friends? Despite the stigma I still feel about this when I try to explain the concept of online communities, the answer is YES, YES THEY CAN. Most of them I had only met virtually, and it was still like hugging old friends. When the bonds are strong, they can stretch great distances.

We worked and we played, but mostly we were there for each other. We (I) have been learning how to lean on others and ask for help, we (I) have been trying to push beyond self-doubt and open up about vulnerable topics. From cold dips in the cold sea, screaming like a broken siren, to my Halloween sheep dress-up covered in cotton, I tapped into a version of myself that felt a bit more like me. And my heart felt like it could breathe.

On the other side of the toxic women-vs-women comparison, there are compassion and empathy. Sisterhood is still massively underrated in this world.
[I also found TWO other women obsessed with F1 as much as me, so — literally — who needs men anymore. #jokingnotjoking]

Then, when a last-minute spot opened up for the November Writers Haven, I “accidentally” stayed an extra month. I was a bit anxious. I’m not exactly an “it’s all about the people” person when I travel, because social interactions cost me a lot and I don’t have the energy to go about finding “my people” by trial and error anymore. In other words, I mostly want to be with people I already like, and I can only tolerate a tiny amount of strangers at a time. This was a gamble. Worst case scenario, I withdraw into my room and get a shit-ton of writing done, I thought.
That didn’t happen, because the next group had some amazing women as well.

I didn’t click with everyone immediately; with some I didn’t click at all. But letting my guard down with a coven of them was really rewarding. There was an amount of weirdness and neurospiciness (in the best way!) that made being unconventional feel less isolating. We didn’t ask “what do you do?”, but “who are you?”. We didn’t ask “what’s your plan?”, but “what’s your purpose?”. We all had very (very!) different stories, and yet in the end, it all boiled down to a shared desire to be accepted and seen in our life choices and without judgment.

We had workshops and mastermind sessions, we shared our writing projects and our secret talents; we set intentions for the new moon and burnt the old in a bonfire; we sang karaoke and learnt TikTok dances, we escorted spiders outside and freed the trees from vines; we laughed hard and cried even harder.

I’m very good at isolating myself and I feel comfortable on my own. This, however, led me to believe I was this “hyper-independent, strong woman” who could do it all and figure it all out on my own. It turns out —SHOCKER!!— that I can’t. I was starving for meaningful, human, real-life interactions and didn’t even realize how badly.

The Château became the dreamy personification of my need for this authentic, sisterly, in-person connection. I —the least touchy-feely person ever— was leaving FREE HUGS around the castle! I, the introvert, was never in my room, and not (only) because of the 80 steps to get there each time. I read somewhere that the right friendships should require very little social battery, and to a certain extent I think it’s true.

Apparently, I’m not an island. Maybe I am a penguin: often perceived as a solitary creature waddling across more or less icy landscapes, I need to travel, feed, nest, and winter in a carefully chosen group. [Clumsiness and lack of coordination are further proof, and if I could slide my way around I totally would, but I digress.] While I’m not saying that all women are penguins, I do believe that no woman is an island. We just have to find our village in a world that still wants us divided, weak and silent.

Thank you for being on this journey with me!
Until the next adventure,

Federica

PS. Genuine (no affiliate) recommendations:
- For everyone: check out Chateau Coliving if you work remotely. It’s an enriching experience. For my fellow writers, there’s a new writing-themed month coming up in February :)
- For women: if you need a supportive online community, come hang out with us in The Lab. It’s the best thing that happened to me in the past 8 years (not joking).