I guess you could say that I’m an expert of sorts on being alone since I am an only child. As a small girl, I would busy myself with schoolwork, reading books, stuffed animals, figure skating…all sorts of things, really. I never actually felt an emptiness in my life because my parents and I have a strong relationship in which I’m comfortable sharing my thoughts and feelings.
Some time in my teenage years was probably when I started to feel alone. I began to have moments where my family and friends didn’t seem to understand me anymore. It may have been me having a difficult time adjusting to bigger schools and my role as a post-puberty hormonal teenage girl amongst the millions of other fish in the sea.
But whether or not this was the case, I just started to feel more alone. In front of everyone else I was bright and friendly individual; in front of the mirror I was a hollow shell of mixed emotions and unnecessary negativity.
I saw the world around me in a hazy light. I knew for a fact there were other worldly issues and suffering and people who had it worse than me…but I couldn’t find it in myself to get over whatever I was feeling. I felt insignificant. I felt undeserving of satisfaction. I felt tired…
Fortunately this was all a phase. Although I still feel as if my life is missing some unknown crucial piece, I am generally happier and at ease with life. I’ve come to realize that the depth of solitude only penetrates your life as far as you give it permission. Once you’ve found something that makes you happy or that you enjoy, it’s okay to be alone sometimes. Or, for some people, it’s okay to be alone all the time. Whatever floats their boat, right?
Until next time!
*P.S. I had no idea where I was going with this post. Excuse the shaky conclusion.