What does it mean to be alone?
The dictionary defines it as: having no one else present.
Synonyms: solo, solitary, unattended.
I define it as: a tool to own your life, create according to your own needs, and enjoy who and what you are without the influence of the rest of the world.
Synonyms: empowered, emancipated.
For the majority of the last six years, I have been alone. Even when surrounded by others, I am usually alone. I moved out on my own for the first time during the height of the pandemic, and very quickly, my physical reality matched my emotional and mental reality. I found someone in that house who was self-reliant and self-assured. When I moved home, I found someone who was tired, hurt, and also alone.
Being alone means facing thoughts and feelings you can no longer outrun; you can’t distract yourself with busyness or the constant buzz of other people’s energy. You realize very quickly what was never yours. I realized I was alone because I had spent all of my time over-serving the needs of others and burned myself out. Whenever I found myself alone because others imposed it, it was usually because I was no longer willing to be agreeable, easily moved, or, to be blunt, controlled.
I find it curious when people assume I have an active social life; sometimes I think it’s a way of explaining away why they don’t make time- an unnecessary assumption, but always a curious one. I used to look at being alone as evidence of having failed at interpersonal development. Maybe it is. For all my attempts and efforts, I have always existed on the outskirts of most spaces. I’ve tried to find a consistent rhythm with others, but it never seemed to stick. That has been part of my work to own. Not how to stick, but being okay that I don’t stick.
For some of us, Black women specifically, we seem to experience a series of events that happen somewhere between the ages of 34 and 37 that change the way we view our position in society. It is a second coming of age that releases you from shackles that have held you back. In astrology, these are your Saturn and Chiron squares; medically, they are the early stages of perimenopause. Relationships, careers, bodies, and beliefs all change. We all navigate it differently, but this isn’t what I expected for myself. In all truth, I believed that by 35 I would have a gang of friends I’d host dinner parties for and show up for at 3 am when they needed me. That is not the path I have found myself on.
Some days solitude is euphoric. It’s easy and uninterrupted. You make all the decisions about how you spend your time, effort, and energy. You are the ruler of your domain. Other days, the solitude is loud. On those days, watching life seemingly move on without you can feel melancholic. You convince yourself that you’re unlovable. It’s not binary, and everything in between holds as much value as each end of that emotional spectrum.
There is also a fear that lives at the far end of that spectrum. As isolation becomes more common, terms like agoraphobia have been creeping into the zeitgeist. Years ago, there was someone on TikTok who went viral because she had not been held or hugged in so long. So many people resonated with the weight of that aloneness. I think of them often and wonder if they were ever finally held.
I’m in a phase of realizing that being alone is no longer filling my cup, yet as I learn to navigate this, I know it is a gift I won’t give up for the sake of belonging. We are conditioned to be ashamed of aloneness while navigating socio-economic realities that enforce it. We are conditioned to be ashamed of desiring community, often learning that we must sacrifice who we are in order to belong. These things used to devastate me, now they inform how I choose to show up in the world as I understand myself in ways I could never have imagined.
I know it won’t always be the case… this aloneness. I have worked hard to become the kind of friend I want for myself. Someone who is consistent, present, and honest with others about my needs. A person who is considerate and thoughtful, always willing to listen and offer support. The kind of friend I need.After I hit publish, I’m going outside to see who and what the world will offer, so I can offer the world everything I became and found when I was alone.