The art of aloneness
Aloneness. Independence. Me-time. Being in one’s own company. Whatever you want to call it. As the years go by in our technologically advanced world, it is getting harder and harder to truly be by ourselves. And the thought of being by ourselves is something that actually scares the living daylights out of us too. We avoid being on our own insofar as we can help it. Whatever it is we want or need to do, it seems imperative for many of us that we be accompanied while doing so. Going to the bathroom on a night out, seeing a film, attending a match, going for a walk, holidaying. We would rather not do any of these things if it means going alone, and, rather worryingly, that includes the one about the toilet. And then, those times that we are by ourselves, in a waiting room, or on public transport, or when we get a few minutes of a break throughout the working day, we immediately gravitate towards our phones. We need to be scrolling, texting, checking notifications, consuming information incessantly… We would rather keep ourselves busy mentally and look outwards, than sit for a few seconds with ourselves, and breathe, and soak in our surroundings. We have taught ourselves that it is bad to be alone, even for a while, even in a place where we intrinsically want to be, or doing an activity we deeply want to do.
A lesson I have learned in my 20s is that if I am to depend on others solely for my happiness and fulfilment, I will never be content, harsh though that may sound. As a child and a teenager, I struggled hugely socially - I would get caught up in friendships that intensified in a short space of time and ended soon afterwards. The feelings of dejection and abandonment stung like poison every time. I used to cry and wonder “what is wrong with me? Why don’t they like me? What did I do wrong?” My mind used to always frame it as me who was missing out on something, rather than the fleeting ‘friends’. When one’s identity is wrapped up in being around other people, one is at a loss when these people are gone. Thankfully, I am at a stage in life now where my relationships provide me with great joy, but I think a lot of that comes from being alone with myself, learning what kind of person I am, working to better myself, and discovering my values when it comes to friendship. A friend or companion, after all, is someone who should complement me, not complete me.
In more recent years, I have become extremely comfortable doing things and going places by myself, to the point where I almost prefer to be on my own (sorry not sorry). There are wonderful, character-building experiences I have had that I probably wouldn’t have, had I cared too much about the opinions of others or required that acquaintances be by my side. The main one was travelling solo to South-East Asia (“oh my god, we get it, Aoife, you were in Asia, stfu”). The amount of people - my own age! - whose eyes boggle when I tell them I hopped on a plane to Bangkok, gone for 4 weeks, with no friends or fella in tow. In hindsight, being a solo traveller forced me out of my comfort zone when it came to socialising. There was no-one with me from home with whom I had a shared history, so if I wanted friends to chat to for the remainder of my travels, I needed to put myself out there and introduce myself to new people, which was scary as hell at the start but paved the way for friendships that have lasted to this day. As well as that, when it came to selecting extra excursions on each leg of the trip, there was no having to consult with my plus-one to see what they were thinking - if I wanted to go to the elephant sanctuary, or the Thai cooking class, or the Cu Chi tunnels, I was going, and that was it. Not having to consider what someone else wanted to do made life 100 times easier for me, and allowed me to do whatever I pleased, as opposed to living to please another.
Closer to home, I recently began going to the cinema and rugby matches on my own - two things I did very frequently prior to COVID hitting. I learned to call it ‘taking myself on a date’ (hold the eye-roll or grimace of pity - I don’t need either). I remember being in school one evening in February and seeing that Munster had a game in Cork on Valentine’s Day. The mouse hovered over the ‘Buy 1 ticket’ button as anxious thoughts raced through my mind - “going to a match, on Valentine’s Day of all days, by yourself? What could be more embarrassing? Buy 2 and see if someone will go with you. But what if you can’t find someone to go with? Going alone is desperate. Maybe just call it off altogether.” Looking back, with live audiences at sporting events still not permitted in Ireland, I am so thankful I just bit the bullet and went when I had the chance, and didn’t let insecurities about turning up alone stop me from giving myself the experience. The fear of the Kiss Cam landing on me and the old guy beside me was real, though. Very real.
The whole area of introversion vs. extroversion comes to mind when discussing the topic of aloneness. Introverts generally prefer to be alone, whereas extroverts thrive off being with others. Speaking personally, I enjoy introverted activities immensely, such as reading, meditating, and working out, but other hobbies of mine, like playing music or watching sports, are oftentimes much better when shared with other people. Getting the balance right is key. I have come across memes that refer to the concept of a social battery - after an extended period of time around others, one feels the need to be alone again, to charge. Knowing when to take this time for ourselves, to chill in our own company, is so important for our mental health and has a positive ripple effect on our relationships in the long run. The health and safety guideline mentioned on airplanes (an almost forgotten concept at this stage of 2020) is catapulted to the front of my mind when hammering this point home - “Please tend to your own mask first before assisting others.” We cannot pour from an empty cup. We cannot be a good friend, colleague, partner, child, or parent to others unless we are a good friend to ourselves. Being in your own company is a great way to do this, to get to know who you really are.
To conclude, I wish to emphasise how necessary it is that we do not think of being alone as loneliness. Being alone does not have to be sad or depressing. It is an opportunity for recentring, recalibrating, refreshing. It is peace. A quote from Wayne Dyer sums it up perfectly: “You cannot be lonely if you like the person you’re alone with.”
A lesson I have learned in my 20s is that if I am to depend on others solely for my happiness and fulfilment, I will never be content, harsh though that may sound. As a child and a teenager, I struggled hugely socially - I would get caught up in friendships that intensified in a short space of time and ended soon afterwards. The feelings of dejection and abandonment stung like poison every time. I used to cry and wonder “what is wrong with me? Why don’t they like me? What did I do wrong?” My mind used to always frame it as me who was missing out on something, rather than the fleeting ‘friends’. When one’s identity is wrapped up in being around other people, one is at a loss when these people are gone. Thankfully, I am at a stage in life now where my relationships provide me with great joy, but I think a lot of that comes from being alone with myself, learning what kind of person I am, working to better myself, and discovering my values when it comes to friendship. A friend or companion, after all, is someone who should complement me, not complete me.
In more recent years, I have become extremely comfortable doing things and going places by myself, to the point where I almost prefer to be on my own (sorry not sorry). There are wonderful, character-building experiences I have had that I probably wouldn’t have, had I cared too much about the opinions of others or required that acquaintances be by my side. The main one was travelling solo to South-East Asia (“oh my god, we get it, Aoife, you were in Asia, stfu”). The amount of people - my own age! - whose eyes boggle when I tell them I hopped on a plane to Bangkok, gone for 4 weeks, with no friends or fella in tow. In hindsight, being a solo traveller forced me out of my comfort zone when it came to socialising. There was no-one with me from home with whom I had a shared history, so if I wanted friends to chat to for the remainder of my travels, I needed to put myself out there and introduce myself to new people, which was scary as hell at the start but paved the way for friendships that have lasted to this day. As well as that, when it came to selecting extra excursions on each leg of the trip, there was no having to consult with my plus-one to see what they were thinking - if I wanted to go to the elephant sanctuary, or the Thai cooking class, or the Cu Chi tunnels, I was going, and that was it. Not having to consider what someone else wanted to do made life 100 times easier for me, and allowed me to do whatever I pleased, as opposed to living to please another.
Closer to home, I recently began going to the cinema and rugby matches on my own - two things I did very frequently prior to COVID hitting. I learned to call it ‘taking myself on a date’ (hold the eye-roll or grimace of pity - I don’t need either). I remember being in school one evening in February and seeing that Munster had a game in Cork on Valentine’s Day. The mouse hovered over the ‘Buy 1 ticket’ button as anxious thoughts raced through my mind - “going to a match, on Valentine’s Day of all days, by yourself? What could be more embarrassing? Buy 2 and see if someone will go with you. But what if you can’t find someone to go with? Going alone is desperate. Maybe just call it off altogether.” Looking back, with live audiences at sporting events still not permitted in Ireland, I am so thankful I just bit the bullet and went when I had the chance, and didn’t let insecurities about turning up alone stop me from giving myself the experience. The fear of the Kiss Cam landing on me and the old guy beside me was real, though. Very real.
The whole area of introversion vs. extroversion comes to mind when discussing the topic of aloneness. Introverts generally prefer to be alone, whereas extroverts thrive off being with others. Speaking personally, I enjoy introverted activities immensely, such as reading, meditating, and working out, but other hobbies of mine, like playing music or watching sports, are oftentimes much better when shared with other people. Getting the balance right is key. I have come across memes that refer to the concept of a social battery - after an extended period of time around others, one feels the need to be alone again, to charge. Knowing when to take this time for ourselves, to chill in our own company, is so important for our mental health and has a positive ripple effect on our relationships in the long run. The health and safety guideline mentioned on airplanes (an almost forgotten concept at this stage of 2020) is catapulted to the front of my mind when hammering this point home - “Please tend to your own mask first before assisting others.” We cannot pour from an empty cup. We cannot be a good friend, colleague, partner, child, or parent to others unless we are a good friend to ourselves. Being in your own company is a great way to do this, to get to know who you really are.
To conclude, I wish to emphasise how necessary it is that we do not think of being alone as loneliness. Being alone does not have to be sad or depressing. It is an opportunity for recentring, recalibrating, refreshing. It is peace. A quote from Wayne Dyer sums it up perfectly: “You cannot be lonely if you like the person you’re alone with.”
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