Last Saturday was the first day I had spent completely alone in over a month. To be completely honest with you, I’d been quite looking forward to it. The past month had been a whirlwind of fun and activity: a beach vacation with my sister, Christmas with my boyfriend’s family, trips to new cities and outings with friends. But my introverted side felt a bit depleted, like I was hungover from all the social energy. I craved a bit of solitude.
All week at work, I thought about my precious day that I would spend by myself. I prepared for it, making sure to get all my chores and work done early, so that nothing could interrupt my peace on the day. I thought about what I would do: a nice, slow run in the morning; take my time making a good brunch; relax on the couch with a novel.
That was exactly what I ended up doing on Saturday, but it wasn’t quite the idyll that I pictured. Even though the morning was perfect on paper, it felt like something was off. I couldn’t shake off a feeling of unease, like I was doing something wrong.
I couldn’t focus on my novel, checking Instagram between every other page, trying to figure out what my friends were up to. My anxiety rose as time went by and there was still nothing for me to go and get ready for. Somehow, it felt wrong to spend the day like this, by myself, fully indulging in leisure however I chose.
The irony was, I absolutely was not feeling FOMO. I truly didn’t want to be anywhere else that day, but it seemed like my brain hadn’t quite gotten the memo.
By the end of the day I felt distraught and consumed by existential angst. I needed to break out of the anxious spiral, so I went for a walk in the dark, chillingly cold evening. Somewhat soothed by an old favorite podcast and a hot chocolate, I walked around the block and felt profoundly aimless. I felt certain that all my friends were either having the best time of their lives, or doing something useful and purposeful at this moment. So what on earth was wrong with me?
The thing is, we rarely talk about spending time alone. No one’s going to commemorate a lazy afternoon spent on the couch on Instagram, unless it involves an artsy latte or the latest must-read novel that can steal the show. On the contrary - according to our timelines, everyone is constantly hanging out together having the times of their lives, not to mention looking stunning while doing so.
This makes alone time seem transgressive. “What do you mean, you don’t have any plans for the day?”, my mum exclaimed when I told her about my upcoming weekend, “Why don’t you call up your neighbor and see if she wants to grab dinner, or watch a movie with your boyfriend?”.
Some light parental disapproval is nothing I can’t handle. But when these messages get reinforced for us over and over again, we start internalizing the idea that time spent alone is necessarily anti-social. Even if we know we need to be alone sometimes to recharge and feel our best, it starts to feel uncomfortable, shameful somehow.
If you are someone who regularly needs or wants alone time, that shouldn’t be shameful to admit or practice. It shouldn’t imply that you don’t like spending time with people, or that you are lonely or weird if you want to spend an evening by yourself.
I was reinforced in this belief when I read the work of Francesca Specter, who has written a lot about the beneficial aspects of alone time. A few years ago, Specter coined the term alonement to describe ‘quality time spent alone and the experience of joy and fulfilment when you are by yourself’, and created an eponymous podcast exploring the positive side of being alone. It’s been really encouraging to see alone time celebrated and get more attention, but I think this change is slow, and there’s a lot of negativity still left to overcome.
There’s plenty of research to show that good social connections are the most important predictor of happiness - and I believe this wholeheartedly. But as with everything in life, there’s a balance to be struck.
Developing good social connections doesn’t look like cramming your calendar full to the brim with plans until you have no space to breathe. On the contrary - a key part of developing and nurturing social connections is making sure you have the energy to show up to those spaces in the first place.
For many of us, this involves a substantial amount of alone time, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of. If you are one of those people, I hope you find some time for solitude this week - and I hope you enjoy it to the fullest.