“Solitude is where one discovers one is not alone.” — Marty Rubin
I was bullied a lot as a kid.
In fact, I wasn’t just a kid that got bullied — in my class, I was the kid that got bullied. I was overweight, smart and nerdy, a lethal combination in elementary school.
This led me to spending a lot of time alone as a child. During recess, I’d meander the school perimeter with my trusty yellow Sony Walkman in hand. Listening to music made it feel less lonely. Being alone felt safe, but it also felt empty.
Then when I hit my late teens and early 20s, I started drinking and partying, and swung to the opposite in a big way. I started dating. I spent nearly all of my time with other people, and started to feel uncomfortable when I was alone.
It got to that I’d find any amount of time alone intolerable. I would make plans on top of plans, sometimes with 2–3 people per day to keep aloneness at bay. I would spend all of my time with my boyfriend. If being alone was totally unavoidable, I’d start texting/calling/MSN messaging (for those older millennials in the list: IYKYK).
Many of the people I dated became quickly frustrated with a mate that wanted to be with them all of the time. My friends would be exhausted from texts asking “We okay? Haven’t heard from you in a while.” I analyzed every interaction, tending to my friendships while neglecting myself entirely.
I never even asked myself if these were good friendships or relationships — I just didn’t want to be alone.
This carried on for a long time, until I went through a very bad breakup, right after getting sober. I was in a toxic relationship with someone who had severe bipolar, and he had worked very hard to distance me from everyone but him.
When I left, I was a mess. A shell of a person.
This is where I discovered solitude.
The only way I could heal from all that I had experienced was to be present with all of the pain, grief and sorrow. I was too sad to be around other people, so I spent time alone each and every day.
This is how I learned that being alone and being lonely are totally different things.
If you’ve ever felt that same restlessness or anxiety when faced with quiet time alone, you’re not broken — you’re human. There are real, valid reasons why being alone feels hard for most of us.
Why Alone is Hard Sometimes
Being alone can be very stressful.
Way back in our hunter-gatherer past, being alone for extended periods increased vulnerability — separated from the group, you were more exposed to predators, had no backup during emergencies, and couldn’t benefit from shared resources and protection. While brief solo activities like foraging or hunting were normal, prolonged isolation was genuinely risky.
And to be sure, there are mounting bodies of evidence that socializing is critical for physical and mental health, longevity and quality of life.
However, when we forget how to be alone — how to be okay in our own company — we stop socializing intentionally, and we just take whatever we can get. We fill our days with sometimes meaningless interactions, just to avoid time inside our own heads.
If you’re anything like me, being alone was also a time when my addictions really kicked up. Nighttime was the worst — I’d overeat, chain smoke, and watch a bazillion episodes of some old crime show.
I didn’t like myself when I was alone. I thought there was something wrong with me — something not good enough — if I was alone. Other people, and my standing with them, became the litmus test for my worth.
“You cannot be lonely if you like the person you’re alone with.”
— Wayne Dyer
Benefits of Solitude
Now being alone often gets a bad rap, but solitude can be one of the most powerful tools for your well-being.
It gives your brain space to breathe — without constant noise or input, your creativity flows more freely, and your brain can wander, imagine, and connect ideas.
It’s also a chance to build self-awareness. When you’re alone, you can actually hear yourself think. You notice what you’re feeling, what you need, and how you’re doing — without having to filter it through anyone else.
Solitude is incredibly calming and deeply restorative.
Quiet time lowers sensory input, calms the nervous system, and gives your mind a break from social stimulation.
Over time, the more comfortable you are alone, the more emotionally resilient you become.
You start relying less on others to regulate your emotions or validate your choices. When you know yourself better and meet your own needs, you show up more grounded, present, and authentic with others.
It also builds independence.
When you’re used to your own company, you trust your decisions more and feel capable of meeting your own needs. And for many people, solitude becomes sacred — a space for reflection, journaling, spiritual growth, or simply just being.
Healthy Solitude vs. Isolation: Know the Difference
Not all alone time is created equal.
Healthy solitude energizes you, while isolation drains you. Here are some key distinctions:
- Healthy solitude is chosen, feels restorative, and connects you to yourself.
You might feel peaceful, creative, or reflective. You still maintain your relationships and social connections — you’re just taking intentional breaks from them. - Problematic isolation often feels compulsive or like hiding.
You might avoid social situations out of fear, shame, or depression. Time alone feels heavy, anxious, or numbing rather than peaceful. You start losing touch with friends or declining invitations — not because you need space, but because connecting feels too hard.
The key question:
Are you choosing solitude to recharge and grow, or are you using aloneness to avoid life?
Healthy solitude prepares you to engage more fully with others.
Isolation pulls you away from meaningful connection altogether.
How to Get Better at Being Alone
Not all alone time is bad. Solitude can be deeply fulfilling when it’s intentional.
Here’s how to cultivate a positive relationship with being alone:
- Reframe solitude as a choice.
Alone time isn’t a punishment — it’s an opportunity to recharge and get to know yourself. It’s a gift, not a gap. - Take yourself on an Artist Date.
Inspired by The Artist’s Way, this is a weekly solo adventure where you do something just for fun or inspiration. Go to a museum, wander a bookstore, or watch a matinee — the only rule? Go alone and let it delight you. - Find solo activities you love.
Reading, journaling, hiking, art, or seeing a movie alone can be deeply satisfying. (Let’s be honest — some of these are way better alone.) - Make it mindful.
Instead of resisting the quiet, try leaning into it with a deep breath, a slow walk, or simply noticing what’s around you. Be here now. - Create structure.
Routines around alone time make it feel purposeful rather than accidental. I love to plan some alone-time errands, which make alone feel fun and useful. - Get comfortable with discomfort.
If solitude feels awkward at first, that’s okay. Sit with it instead of rushing to distract yourself. That’s where the growth is. Pay attention to what’s happening. - Digital detox your alone time.
Try spending some solo time unplugged — no scrolling, no background noise. Just you and the moment. Wild, I know. - Make it sacred, not sad.
Light a candle. Play music you love. Pour a favorite drink. Treat your alone time like a special date — because it is.
(Need some more alone-time inspo? This spoken word poem beautifully captures how “alone is a freedom that breathes easy and weightless.” I’ve listened to it hundreds of times.)
Your Turn
Learning to be comfortable in your own company isn’t just about being alone — it’s about becoming someone you genuinely enjoy being with.
Start small. Try one solo activity this week and notice what comes up. The relationship you have with yourself sets the tone for every other relationship in your life.
That scared kid with the yellow Walkman never imagined that being alone could feel like coming home.
Now my solitude isn’t about hiding from the world — it’s about showing up to it more fully myself.
Ditch Stress 
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