Alone But Not Lonely

photo by Emma DeVito

Perhaps it was due to growing up in a tiny house with a big family-or just having the DNA of a loner-but I find myself quite content alone. When I was little, our home had three small bedrooms that had to fit eight of us-my mom and dad and younger brother shared a room (they kept him in a crib as long as possible because there was no other place to put him) -my two older sisters were in a room across the hall, and my third sister and older brother and I shared a room half the size of one of today’s walk-in-closets-with a set of bunkbeds for the two of them and a bed by the windows for me. At the end of the hall was the single bathroom with avocado fixtures and a tall cast iron radiator where my mom would hang our towels to warm while giving us a bath. The only quiet space was in that bathroom which was often in high demand. I would try to create a fort in my closet which was always quite full-but it offered some reprieve from the hustle and bustle of this home brimming with life and love - conflict and commotion.

There were plenty of stitches, a knocked-out tooth, severed finger, illness, loss, sadness, joy-I imagine it was your typical home-breathing in and out a life of its own. And though we each grew with shared experiences, identical cuisine, equal attention and care-we are all quite different. I believe I have always been the quiet one. 

There has been a significant amount of research and media attention to the notion that social interaction, conversation, and friendship are crucial for a happy and healthy life. It has been stated that these social interactions are critically important for good health and longevity. Though I am in agreement with that viewpoint for many, I do think it quite carelessly lumps all of humanity into a single homogenous category. Some people are quite happy alone.

Being a loner has its perks-it is quiet, allows for the freedom of choice, let’s the mind wander in whatever direction it chooses-it is expansive, creative, peaceful and rarely ever hurts your feelings. It summons your individual ability to decide what to think or dream or listen to-it doesn’t bend or recreate your feelings but accepts just where you are at any given moment. It is like cooking for one-performing a solo-playing solitaire. 

I must admit I do enjoy the company of friends and family, peaceful dinner parties, communal hikes, playing in a band, speaking to a group, listening to other’s heart songs- but I am equally content with quiet pursuits and time alone.

All of this- ‘you need to be social’ hype-may drive people to jump on the perpetual hamster wheel of activity- saying yes to things they may not want to do, yearning for the din of the crowd while forgetting that they may be their own best company. I know, I know, I know what you are thinking. It’s all about balance, and of course that makes the most sense. But it is also about discovering, uncovering and being comfortable with who you really are and what makes you happy. It’s OK to enjoy your own company-to say, “No thank you. I’d just like a quiet night, or two or three or four.” And it is in that quiet stillness that you not only hear the crickets and the katydids, the wind blowing through the trees, but you also hear the yearnings of your own precious heart.