It took me a very long time to learn how to be alone. Properly alone: without any emotional entanglements, or a friend-with-benefits in the wings; just me for an indefinite period, possibly forever (it was safest to just get a cat lest neighbourhood strays begin circling); to let go of all my comfort blankets; the housemate, the all-consuming job, the stash of wine, the always having a holiday lined up, the still-looking-for-the-next-bloke. Because as much as I wanted to be all Independent Woman doing it, I didn’t really know how to do that, or even who I was outside of the context of a relationship. It was bloody scary to be alone!
I think my fear was really about what other people thought. Because I had not been ‘picked’ there must be something wrong with me. It wasn’t easy to surrender to that fear, but once I let myself stop panicking about the whole ‘dying alone in a room heavy with the tang of cat wee’ thing, I could see that being alone had loads of merit. And I wasn’t actually lonely all of the time. There were moments of loneliness, but they were fleeting, and therefore manageable. And the more time I spent alone, the easier it became. I began to enjoy taking myself out on dates: going to the movies alone, eating out by myself; I went to galleries and lectures and re-discovered my home town, eventually I went on a loan road trip. I learnt how to confidently claim my Family Of One status.
This meant that when I met him it was easy to make room without it becoming all-consuming, as every other relationship had. I think I found him because I was happy on my own. We still spend most Saturdays apart, we still holiday on our own or going away with our own friends, there is no expectation that if a ‘plus one’ is invited, we have to go. It is a joy to find that while we are at opposite ends of every other personality spectrum, our comfort in our own company is shared. It gives us both room to breath, to miss each other, it helps ‘us’ to work. It’s allowed me to hang on to the me I discovered before him. It makes for a richer, deeper intimacy between us, because we are not looking to the other to fill the (figurative!) holes in ourselves.
Being happy alone has been my greatest gift to myself.
How to be alone by fiilmaker, Andrea Dorfman, and poet, Tanya Davis
How to fall in love with you by Susannah Conway
Comments
Woah!
Seriously I could have written this…’cept you probably say it better :)
Himself and I couldn’t be together if we weren’t both completely comfortable alone….
sas Replied:
yes! and i am not sure if this is true for you, but it is so ironic to me that my fear of being alone meant i hung on to crappy relationships. when i faced the fear, the really healthy, loving one was right there.
cosmic jokes are a RIOT aren’t they?
Great post! I feel like I’ve had to learn this too. My husband and I spend Saturdays on our own too, which seems to surprise some people. It is nice to feel like when you’re with you’re loved one, you’ve had time to process and you both want to be together – versus have to!
You know, I think I’m in the midst of learning this. I’ve never dated anyone. Yes, I’m a bit of a youngster, I suppose. It hasn’t been that I didn’t want to date. The situation has just never presented itself.
I am learning to be thankful to be alone. I find that I love it. As people around me date, engage, and marry, I find that I continue to have a hard time being alone. Yet, I still am content where I am – it’s not always easy, but it isn’t always hard either.
Thank you for writing this. It really encouraged me.
sas Replied:
contentment is so precious. and i agree – this doesn’t mean its always easy.
What a lovely post. I’m kind of the opposite – I was always very happy and secure being on my own, but in relationships I was reluctant to trust my other half and let them into my life. With Steve, that has been easy, and I think that’s partly to do with me growing as a person and partly just because of him.