There’s a profound difference between being alone and feeling lonely. For much of my life, I didn’t understand that distinction. Alone often felt synonymous with loneliness. It conjured up images of empty rooms, quiet nights, and a hollow ache deep within—the kind that whispers, “You’re missing something… or someone.”
My journey to this understanding began during one of the hardest periods of my life. Almost five years ago, during the COVID-19 lockdown, I became a widow. Losing my partner in such an isolating time was devastating. The last few years have been hard, and for two and a half years, I was lost in a fog of depression. I didn’t know whether I was coming or going, and each day felt heavier than the last.
But lately, I’ve been finding myself again. Slowly, and with great effort, I began looking after myself. I focused on my mental health, started exercising, eating well, sleeping better, and even joined a gym. At first, it was hard—hard. I felt so alone. The silence in my home was deafening, and the emptiness felt like it might swallow me whole. Yet, through this, I discovered that being alone didn’t have to mean being lonely.
The Loneliness Myth
Society often equates being alone with sadness or failure. We’re bombarded with images of togetherness—perfect families, loving partners, and friend groups that look like they’ve walked out of a sitcom. While companionship is beautiful and essential, this constant messaging can make us feel “less than” if we’re not surrounded by people all the time.
However, I’ve come to see that loneliness isn’t about the absence of others. It’s about the absence of connection with yourself, with purpose, or with the world around you. I’ve felt the loneliest in crowded rooms where I didn’t feel seen or understood. And I’ve felt profoundly content sitting alone in a park, with nothing but the sound of rustling leaves for company.
Finding Comfort in Solitude
Learning to enjoy my own company was not an overnight transformation. It took deliberate effort and a willingness to sit with discomfort. Here are some practices that helped me:
Redefine Alone Time
Instead of viewing alone time as an indicator of what’s missing, I reframed it as an opportunity to discover what I already have. Whether it’s reading a book, journaling, or simply sipping tea in silence, I started treating these moments as gifts.
Get Curious About Yourself
When was the last time you asked yourself what truly makes you happy? What excites you? I began exploring hobbies and interests I’d long forgotten. Learning how to sew, trying new recipes, and being intentional about waking early and exercising helped me reconnect with the parts of myself I’d neglected.
Practice Gratitude
It’s easy to focus on what we don’t have, especially when we’re feeling isolated. I started keeping a gratitude journal, jotting down small joys, including a sunny day, a kind word from a stranger, and the comfort of my heated blanket. Over time, this practice shifted my perspective.
Embrace Nature
There’s something incredibly healing about being in nature. Whether it’s a walk in the woods or simply sitting by a window and watching the clouds, nature has a way of reminding us that we’re part of something much larger.
The Power of Connection—On Your Terms
Being alone doesn’t mean shutting yourself off from the world. It means choosing connection intentionally. I’ve learned to nurture relationships that feel nourishing and let go of those that drain me. And while I cherish my solitude, I also value the deep, meaningful conversations I have with friends who truly understand me.
Loneliness can sneak in, even when we’ve cultivated a rich inner world. On those days, I remind myself it’s okay to reach out. Whether it’s calling a friend, joining a community group, or even talking to a therapist, seeking connection isn’t a sign of weakness—it’s a testament to our humanity.
Finding Freedom in Solitude
One of the unexpected blessings of this journey has been discovering the freedom that comes with being alone. I’ve learned to embrace a life where my time is entirely my own. I can wake up early to watch the sunrise, I can have a lie in without guilt or stay up late writing in my journal without worrying about anyone else’s schedule. I’ve traveled to places I’ve always wanted to see, allowing myself the joy of exploring on my terms.
This independence has given me a deeper appreciation for life and myself. It’s taught me resilience, self-sufficiency, and the ability to find joy in small, quiet moments. For the first time in a long time, I feel at home within myself.
Alone, But Not Lonely
Now, when I find myself alone, I no longer feel the pang of inadequacy that used to accompany it. I’ve discovered that solitude can be a space for healing, growth, and self-discovery. It’s where I’ve learned to listen to my own needs, honor my feelings, and dream freely.
If you’re struggling with loneliness, I want you to know this: You are enough, just as you are. Learning to enjoy your own company is a journey, and it’s okay to take it one step at a time. For me, the loneliness is okay. I’ve learned to live with it. I can do what I want, on my own time, and I’ve found a quiet contentment in that. You’re not missing; you’re becoming. And in that becoming, you’ll find that you can be alone, but never truly lonely.
Mind UK provides tips on managing loneliness and improving mental well-being.
