Solitude--More Than Just A Punchline

Let's talk about being alone. No, that isn't quite the right place to start. I suppose the place to start would be what kind of person you are. And I know that sounds like an awfully large question. Who are you? This isn't about existentialism, and it isn't about soul searching and looking deep within yourself for answers. This, and what I want to talk about is something much simpler than that. It's about whether you identify as an extrovert or an introvert.

There's some people who thrive of off being the centre of attention. You know the ones, the ones who are always the life of the party, always with a joke ready and desperately trying to include you. The ones who, whenever you message them, always seem to have their social calendar booked up several years in advance. The ones who embody the sentiment of 'the more the merrier'. And then you have the introverts, people like me. They're the ones that like being around people, but not too much. They're the wallflowers, the ones who go to social events knowing full well that they might not have a good time but feel a social obligation to do so. The ones who are happier staying with a movie or a book and just recharging. And here's where the lines get blurred, because, extroverts, whilst they mean well, always assume that introverts are miserable because they're alone or because they aren't doing something. From my experience, an extrovert can't fathom why someone would want to be alone. Why be alone when you can be with other people? They mean well, and I can always understand where they're coming from and why they might think I might be lonely or unfulfilled.

Let me give you an example. Last year, at the end of August was my sister's wedding. It wasn't a huge blowout event, it was relatively quiet. Friends and family of both the bride and the groom and obviously +1's. As the reception was winding down and twilight fell over the gorgeous venue, my sister and her husband did the first dance. And, it was a beautiful moment. After they were done, the dance floor was opened up to the guests. Now, I've always hated dancing, but more than that, I've always hated dancing in front of other people, so anything like a club or a disco is completely out of the question because I've never felt comfortable. So, whilst everyone else was grooving to Top 40 songs, I hovered at the end of the dance floor, looking for someone I knew well enough to be able to hold a conversation with. Every few songs or so, one of her husband's friends would wander over to me and politely, but firmly ask me why I wasn't dancing. And at each song I would tell him that I didn't want to, this wasn't my kind of scene, I didn't like dancing. With each fresh question he would get a little pushier even telling me that it was my sister's wedding and I had an obligation to dance and have fun on her behalf. But here's what he didn't understand. I was happy. I was perfectly content watching other people. Nothing about what they were doing was appealing to me. And I wasn't necessarily being shy or unapproachable, I just wasn't interested in what other people thought was fun. In the end, I ended up leaving early and having a very long video chat with my boyfriend, and that ended up being the most fun I had that evening.

Extroverts would have us believe that being alone is some kind of punishment, something to be endured because there are no other alternatives. For most of my life, I wondered if there was something wrong with me. I wondered if I was somehow fundamentally broken because I didn't like doing what everyone else my age liked doing for fun. Growing up, I never really had many friends, and maybe that's why I prefer to stay in and do something quiet; or maybe it's something is written into our DNA and we have no say in it. When I got older, and people turned 18 and they could finally drink, I was faced with a similar sort of dilemma.

Almost everyone I knew would be spending their 18th birthdays' at clubs, getting royally plastered. But I didn't see it. I couldn't understand how that would be fun. And that isn't in a judgemental way, people are free to spend their time whoever they would like, but for me, I can't think of a worse way to spend my free time. And, again, the questions would pour in:

• Why didn't I drink alcohol?
• Would I go clubbing for my 18th?
• Why didn't I like clubbing?
• How did I know I didn't like clubbing if I'd never been?

Being alone is not a punishment. It is not something that makes you unlovable or unfulfilled, or anything that society would have us believe. Society would have us believe that to be alone means that we have somehow failed. That we are loners, outcasts, and that there is something fundamentally wrong with that. But, there isn't. There never has been, and I've spent so long feeling like I don't belong anywhere because there are days I need to recharge and be by myself. And it's okay to want that. Yes, people are naturally sociable and need companionship in order to be healthy and happy, but, that's not all we need. We also need space and time to be alone, not only for ourselves, but also to learn about who we are and what we value in things and relationships. There is comfort in being alone. There is happiness, peace and tranquility in being alone. 

But being alone, and being lonely aren't the same thing, and I think that many people become confused by these concepts because, on paper--they very much seem to be the same thing. And it is easy to fall down the slope of being antisocial. It could be because of anything, it could be because we're too busy or because our friends are unavailable, or they're too far away, and at that point; it can make us feel like they don't want us. We're being annoying and needy and clingy and people are entitled to their own space. The thing is though, we're the only ones that think that. Nobody in our lives would think that we're being annoying for wanting to see them, or not want to see them, and anyone who truly values you will be able to understand that we have our own lives and sometimes, things fall through the cracks. Friendships are valid, even if you haven't spoken for months. Relationships are so complex, but so long as you're on the same page then things will carry on as normal, no matter where life might take you. 

Growing up, my dating life was about as successful as my friendships. I had sporadic relationships that lasted no more than a few months. I would see everyone else in my life have happy and committed relationships and wonder what I was doing wrong. How come I couldn't have that? Did I not deserve it? Was I broken? What if I never found love? Why did I attract people that would never treat me well? Maybe, this was just the way I deserved to be treated. When we feel like this, it can be for any amount of reasons. My feelings were very much because of societal expectations and because I am and continue to be, a hopeless romantic. I believe in true love, in soulmates, in butterflies and huge sweeping romances that last a lifetime and there were many times in my life when I thought that I was wrong. I thought those were ploys sold to us by Hollywood in order to sell more movie tickets. And, maybe they are. Even though now, I'm in a relationship with someone who is the literal love of my life, and someone who I can't ever imagine being without, I have no proof that these concepts that kept me going for so long actually exist. Just because I believe in them and they've happened for me, I have no proof that they exist for other people. I don't know if people meet for a reason, or if the universe controls us what happens to us and when, and I don't know if there is something more in our life that means that free will is an illusion. I don't know, and nobody knows these things. All we have are the things that we believe in, our values and beliefs and if we don't truly believe in them, then nobody else will either. They don't have to be good enough for anyone else, they just have to be good enough for you to believe in them. Being single for a long time also helped me come to terms with being alone, because I didn't have that companionship that I was so desperately craving. I had no choice but to learn who I was and what I wanted. Even though I stared at every couple of I saw, wishing and wishing that it would be me one day, I learned to accept that maybe it wouldn't be. And that maybe, there were worse fates than never finding love. I learned that love doesn't just have to be romantic, and just because you have it doesn't mean that it's healthy or something that you need at that point in your life. I dated someone a few years ago who was truly lovely, and I thought that I loved him, and I harbour no ill will toward him, but his affection wasn't what I needed then, even though I wanted to convince myself that it was right for me. Saying no to relationships and love is also part of solitude. It isn't being selfish or unreasonable, and, at the end of the day, we're the most important people in our lives. We're the protagonists in our own lives. And being alone is just as important as being with people, and everyone has a different balance that they need. 

Recently, I had a couple of sessions with a psychotherapist; he charged me a lot of money and ultimately was about as helpful as a self help book. And truth be told, I don't know what I expected. I don't know if I expected a magic wand that would suddenly heal me, I guess maybe on some level I did? Either way, something that we touched upon was how everyone that I cared about was very far away from me. We spoke about how my boyfriend was in Texas, and how my best friend was in Massachusetts and all of my university friends were scattered across the country, making meet ups almost impossible. He thought there was something there, that there was a reason I picked all of these people that were physically unavailable. I don't know if he was right or not. I don't know if he had a valid point, maybe he did. Maybe there is some subconscious reason why the people closest to me are far away and difficult to keep in touch with. But, he also phrased it like a bad thing. He told me that it was unhealthy for a then 22 year old to not have a social life. I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing. Yes, I would love for them to be closer, but, I'm not alone. With them being so far away, it just means that our friendships and relationships are stronger because we can't see each other whenever we feel like it. It means that the people I bond with, I bond because we connect on some level. We bond because we're similar, not because we have location in common. I live in a small village, and anyone that's lived in a small village can attest that there's a certain mentality. Yes, there's a community feel, but it's not pleasant. It's not the kind of atmosphere that you want. It's judgemental, harsh and shallow. Maybe that was why the friends I had in school weren't people that I truly connected with. But either way, this psychologist's train of thought was that I needed people closer to me, in order to get better. I think he's probably right, as much as it pains me to admit that he had a point, but why should I connect with people who I know won't be what I want or need? There's a difference between connecting and connecting out of necessity. And I've found it's better to have long lasting relationships with people who you truly understand rather than have connections with people that you can see often without actually knowing the first thing about them. And I think this something of a generational thing. Things are very different now to how they were when our parents and grandparents were young. Connectivity now is so easy, in fact, sometimes, it can be frighteningly easy. And that sort of connectivity isn't a bad thing. Now it's so easy to connect with people from all over the world and build lasting friendships. Friendships aren't only valid if you can meet them for coffee. 

My other problem with living in a small community is that you know everyone. And if you don't know everyone, then you know most people. You know the regulars. Now, working and living in the same village? It's almost unbearable. I go to the shops and bump into eight different people that I sold things to just a few days ago. Some people like that, and that's perfectly okay, but that sort of life isn't something that I want. I like the anonymity of living in a city. And this is something that I learned when I went away to university. In university you can be whoever you want. People there don't care where you're from or what you've done, you just are there and you can be anyone. That sort of freedom is powerful and intoxicating. And that's a good takeaway, that we are never static as people. We have the power to change whenever we want, and I know that change is scary and sometimes it might not work but without trying we will never know. Just because we were someone in the past, doesn't mean that we have to continue being that person. But the change has to come from us. Nobody else can do it for us. It's tempting to say that people can't change, much like a leopard can't change its spots, but I've always found that difficult to believe. I want to believe that people have the capacity to change, if they're given the chance. Maybe that's naive, and maybe I'm wrong and in my experience, I usually am wrong, but the alternative; living my life in consistent and constant skepticism, it just seems exhausting.

When it comes to solitude, it isn't something that comes naturally to us, or at least that's what I've found. I used to believe that whenever I went somewhere alone, people were staring at me and judging me for being alone, laughing at me with their friends. That sort of mindset is very difficult to get out of. So how do you get out that? It might sound cliched, but the way to do it is to push yourself out of your comfort zone. For me, it happened when I needed to go open evenings for Masters degrees alone. And that was when I realised how much I enjoyed going to places alone. I could leave whenever I wanted, I could go to dinner and eat whatever I fancied, it gave me a sense of empowerment. Now, I crave those day trips that I do alone. I crave evenings alone, just me and my laptop or me in a new place. Sometimes I feel bad saying no to doing things with family or their offers to come with me, but, those days where I'm alone, they're some of the best times I have. And that's why I'm happy being alone.

Society shovels the message into our mouths that being alone is not okay. That's why we grow up feeling misplaced or unwanted, and this is constantly perpetuated by any TV show that you watch. The people who are alone are portrayed as weird, as freaks, and there's a definite reason why they're alone and if they could just change, become like everyone else then they'll be happy. No show celebrates originality and individualism. People that don't necessarily fit the mould are the ones that are the most interesting, because their world view is the one that is the most interesting. The sooner society and Hollywood realises that there's nothing wrong with being alone, and being alone doesn't necessarily mean that we're longing for something is one step to closer to having a truly inclusive society.