Being Alone

Travelin’Oma, Week 7, Day 1.

Being alone.

I used to hate being alone. I think it was because I was afraid that if I was alone it was because I had to be alone. I associated being alone with being lonely. And I was lonely for many of my growing up years. Being lonely was hard and a much too frequent part of my youth. Thus, being alone symbolized being lonely.

In college, I started to overcome my dislike of being alone – but only a little bit. One summer, my sister and I were roommates in an apartment that was for 3 people, with one “single” room and one “double” room, but it was just the two of us for the summer. My generous sister, who would much rather have had her own room, was wonderful and roomed with me in the double room because I didn’t want to have my own room. I wanted the company. We had a great time together and I love being with her and it also helped me not have as much alone time.

Eventually, I have come to enjoy having time alone. Maybe it’s a result of having three children and having virtually no time to myself! But maybe that’s not all. I think my evolution in this arena came about as I became more comfortable with myself. I am not afraid to be alone anymore. I am still lonely sometimes, but being lonely is no longer equivalent, in my mind, to being alone. I still really enjoy being with people, even if not actively interacting with them, but now and then some time just for me is soothing and comforting, even if just as a reminder to myself that I am okay with who I am and that it is alright for me to be alone now.