- When I was younger, I was scared of being alone.
- I felt like being alone meant I was lonely and that there was something wrong with me.
- As I’ve gotten older, I’ve grown to value my alone time and treasure my own company.
It recently dawned on me that the older I get, the more I like spending time alone. I regularly go on solo hikes or movie dates, and I cherish the time by myself.
When I was younger, I had a very different perception of running solo. I used to think that being alone equated to being lonely, but I was so wrong.
In high school, I struggled with friendships and would sometimes feel like a failure or a freak because I only ever really had one close friend. Sure, there were kids who were friendly to me, but I never felt a deep connection with them. As a result, I often felt socially isolated.
When my best friend was off school for the day sick or we were fighting, I remember hiding in the library at lunchtime, feeling lonely and adrift in the world. Even after I’d made a great group of girlfriends at university, if ever I had to eat by myself in the college hall or walk to class by myself, I’d feel self-conscious and like an oddity.
My feelings about being alone changed as I got older
I’m not entirely sure why, but as I got older, I found it easier and easier to make friends. Traveling in my 20s certainly helped — it forced me to get outside my comfort zone and meet people from all walks of life. Having children also helped me attract like-minded people into my life — other women who were trying to navigate parenthood.
Nowadays, at 39, I’m lucky enough to have a really solid network of friends, to the point where I sometimes feel guilty about not being able to give them enough of my time and energy. Throw in three kids, a husband, a busy business, and aging parents, and life frequently feels like a giant balancing act.
Sometimes, I feel myself yearning for that alone time I used to dread so much. I get tired of all the noise and just want a little quiet.
I’ve started embracing the beauty of being alone, even in a public setting, without fear of judgment from others or feeling uncomfortable. When I have a few delicious hours to myself, I take myself out to breakfast and sit there blissfully silent at the table, reading a newspaper at leisure. On other occasions, if I feel like my energy is depleted, I’ll walk into the hills that surround our small alpine town, enjoying the sounds of the birds above and the valley below.
I’ve grown to love solitude and silence
I’ve finally realized that silence is a gift and that my favorite company is actually myself. While I love my family and my friends dearly, I really need my own space to recharge and feel refreshed, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Solitude is healthy, and it’s fun.
Recently, I went to the movies to see a beautiful documentary. It was about a man who traveled along the West Coast of America on a motorbike and the people he met along the way. The ending was very poignant, and I found myself crying as the credits rolled up.
Next to me, a young woman sat sobbing in her chair. I’d noticed she’d come in by herself, like me, and was as equally touched by the film as I was. There was something about her that reminded me of an earlier version of myself.
Without thinking, I reached out my hand and patted hers, and slowly, she stopped crying. “It was a great film, wasn’t it?” I said. She smiled and nodded, and then I left.
For me, being alone gives me time to process my thoughts, tap into my creativity, and grow. It helps me to regulate my emotions and to feel at peace. And sometimes, solitude can make me more open to spontaneous moments of connection with others, just like that one in the cinema.
