The lessons and danger of solitude
What spending long stretches of time by myself has taught me about my needs and my creativity.
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I open my eyes and immediately walk to the bathroom next door.
I’m washing my hands when my partner appears in the doorway.
After saying ‘good morning', I want to walk out, but he blocks the doorway. I’m not sure what he wants. “Can I please pass?” I ask, and he steps aside.
I walk back into the bedroom because I planned to do a morning meditation. I told my partner this last night, and I’m telling him again now, but he starts rambling off a list of questions. He has clearly been thinking about them for a while, as he wakes up at least an hour earlier than me. The questions shoot out of him like a tennis ball launcher.
“I’ve literally just opened my eyes, love. Can you just leave me be for 20 minutes so I can do my meditation?”. Apparently, it can’t wait because he’s leaving for work in five minutes. So, I answer his questions, and after that, I tell him that we talked about letting me wake up first before dumping a tonne of information or questions on me.
He tells me he’s sorry, will be more mindful next time, and leaves for work. It’s quiet after that, but I hear my heart thumping in my chest.
I press play on the meditation app while stress is pumping through my body because of our row, and my to-do list got slightly longer because of his questions. The voice in the app asks me to form a mantra for today. But instead of a light, self-assuring mantra, the requests and questions pound in my head. I get more stressed by the minute, expanding my to-do list with every deep breath I need to take. I turn off the app, walk downstairs, and open my laptop to get to work.
How to be yourself (more)
My partner often asks me why I start work before eating breakfast or why I only allow myself to take a shower after at least half of my to-do list is done. He cannot fathom why I don’t take time for myself in the morning.
I couldn’t either, until I had been by myself for a month last month. I rented a cottage in the English countryside, where I stayed one week with my partner, then four weeks alone, and the last week again with my partner.
It was the first time in years I had been alone for longer than five days, and I saw my daily routine change.
Those weeks in England, I loved starting my morning slow and quiet. Preferably for an hour. I liked a bit of yoghurt for breakfast, with a spoon of cereal and a load of strawberries. Then, I’d read a bit of non-fiction, preferably something that provoked my thinking. After that, a shower and putting on clothes before I made plans for what to do that day. I went to bed when I was tired and woke up when I had rested enough.
The danger of spending time alone
I’ve gotten quite a few messages from people who are afraid to go on holiday alone, mostly because they fear the solitude. But I think they should be scared for a different reason. The real danger of spending time alone is that you start to realise you haven’t been living your life in alignment with your needs and desires.