Practicing solitude
A reflection on my fear of being alone and the use of solo travel to learn to embrace solitude and deepen self-understanding.
A lone tributary in the Wainui Bay leading to the ocean (actually there were hundreds of these, but the rest were cropped out for effect).
I have never been one for being alone. It just doesn’t suit me.
I started owning this in the last three-ish years (hmm that timing aligns oddly well with covid), whereas I previously ignored or flat-out denied it. Past partners have called out my need for constant social stimulation and friends have pointed out that I am a natural extrovert. When I started paying attention to what type of activity gives me energy, I noticed a pattern. People give me life (within reason and with reasonable people).
I think it's a powerful characteristic to own, but I want to wield it wisely rather than be controlled by it. I have a tendency to push myself to exhaustion just to satisfy this desire to be around people. It's less of FOMO and more like a heavy FOMP (fear of missing people).
I was curious if my focus on my relationships with others was a way of distracting me from my relationship with my Self. Could practicing solitude led to deeper self-understanding? Would a better relationship with my Self in turn enable better relationships with others?
Two definitions of solitude:
the state of being alone, especially when you find this pleasant
the situation of being alone, often by choiceA very popular word choice in the early 1800s. Soon I’ll be sporting a Victorian era dress and writing romantic prose while drinking tea.
I was not always extroverted. In childhood, I was a bookworm and a doodler. I didn't have many friends (always just 1-3 very close friends) and I was a bit of a homebody. I can guess why I loved to sit alone and read fantasy books, but I don't actually remember what was going on in my 8-year-old brain. Today I have a lot of empathy for shy kids. The world is made for extroverts. Luckily, I was not as shy with adults and remember often making friends with the oldest person in the room. Maybe I just wanted someone to listen to me instead of yelling and moving around so much. Kids can be so overwhelming and I was relatively low-key back then (you’re welcome parents).
Reflections on Te Anau lake at sunrise. This boat appears alone, but actually, there are many tourists with fancy cameras shooting its aesthetic isolation.
This reflection on my past self leads me to ask— did I fundamentally change as a person? Did I shift from introvert to extrovert? If so, I think it happened freshman year of college. That feels like an inflection point for me. One thing is for certain: the 5+ times I've taken the Myers Briggs test in the past 10 years, I am always a firm ENFP (Extrovert Intuitive Feeling Perceiving). I'm so curious what the result would have been if I took it when I was younger.
Did I develop these social tendencies as a survival mechanism to help me function in an extroverts-world? What other survival mechanisms have I adopted that affect how I perceive and present myself in the world? Who would I be if I functioned without fear?
Although being an extrovert is different from being okay with being alone, they seem intrinsically connected. When I get vulnerable and dig into this, I come up with a lot of theories. I'm sharing because I think anyone can relate to at least one of these, and I believe it's a topic worthy of introspection.
Some ideas about why I fear solitude...
Maybe it’s because I have two siblings around my age, so I was rarely alone growing up.
Maybe it’s because I got a lot of attention being the first born and I continue to crave attention since then.
Maybe it’s because I associate solitude with not having friends. And when I was young, I yearned for a big group of friends, to be popular, to never sit alone at lunch.
Maybe it’s because I have been in long-term relationships practically nonstop since I was 15.
Maybe it’s because I struggle to sit with my own thoughts and prefer to hear them in conversation with others, or drown them out with podcasts or music.
Maybe it’s because I worry that being alone means being unwanted and the last thing in the world I want is to be unwanted.
Maybe it’s because I’m still a child and children never truly want to be far from their parents, who are associated with safety.
Maybe it’s because I think that being alone leads to boredom, and I worry that I don’t know how to entertain myself.
Maybe it's because I associate solitude with loneliness, and my biggest fear is dying alone.
I think there’s a grain of truth in all of these maybes, and maybe there are more maybes I haven’t mentioned.
Morbid thoughts and solitude seem, to me, very closely tied. I think that is a primordial survival mechanism I can work to unlearn. I “got the morbs” as they say in Victorian English.
At this unique moment in my life, I have the privilege and opportunity to go my own way. I’m traveling solo for the first time, which inherently leads to a lot of solo time. I’ve spent multiple days hiking with just the sound of birds. I watched an empty house for a week while caring for goats. I’ve stood on a lot of corners alone, trying to hitch a ride. And of course, you don’t have to be alone to feel alone. Even right now, as I type this in the hostel living room, the bustle of people around me does little to quell feelings of loneliness. I imagine that my musings on solitude will strike anyone who has experienced true isolation as quite dramatic. But hey, it’s all relative!
One of my intentions for my time "away" is to practice solitude. To be with me. To see what goes on at the core of Camille.
Hitchhiking, my primary method of transport, is a rollercoaster of being alone and facing rejection and then suddenly in a car with strangers.
These days, my calendar is overwhelmingly open, and I get to decide how to fill it. I own full responsibility for the decisions I make and I, alone, live with the consequences. This state has forced me to face my indecisiveness and to listen to my inner voice.
Possibly the most important reason for practicing solitude is that it can be an approach to getting to know thyself. Coming from the perspective of a highly Western, individualistic society leads me to want a deeper, knowledge of my Self. Though I fully acknowledge that it is a lifelong journey with a moving target, as we continuously evolve as individuals.
“Gnothi seauton,” know thyself is an Ancient Greek aphorism inscribed in the Temple of Apollo at Delphi. This man appears to be getting to know himself quite intimately.
I want to reassure my readers that I am not holed up in a hobbit hole. Far from it. Despite all this talk of solitude, I am also here to experience a new type of community– which is why I am living with a few different intentional communities (more on that in a future post). I know that I love people, I love community. I love family. I love friends. I love teams. I even love colleagues, sometimes.
And I strongly believe that living in a community, with a network of support is the most healthy way to live long-term. We are social creatures, and we rely on our tribe. Particularly when it comes to raising children and getting older. I am so grateful for my tribe, and I would not be able to be here, to be alone, without the foundational love of my family and community back home. So, shout out to you all, I love you.
I am hopeful that it is possible to practice solitude here and return home as an expanded version of myself. Someone who associates solitude with independence. I'm one month into this journey and I am already seeing a shift. This is an ongoing investigation of self. Despite some days feeling really lonely and challenging, I embrace the process.
🪶 with peace & in solitude,
Camille
Some thoughts for you…
When is the last time you spent quality time with your self?
What do you associate with solitude?
What fears bring you towards or away from people?
What feedback do you have? What are the gaps in my thinking? What would you add?
I had to patiently wait for this very community-oriented herd animal to step far enough away from her friends to get this dramatic shot. Modern-day humans no longer NEED a tribe to survive, but I think we still need one to thrive.
adding the poem I sent you here if readers are interested too:
White Towels by Richard Jones
I have been studying the difference
between solitude and loneliness,
telling the story of my life
to the clean white towels taken warm from the dryer.
I carry them through the house
as though they were my children
asleep in my arms.
When is the last time you spent quality time with your self? -- Every morning is very intentional alone time
What do you associate with solitude? -- creativity
What fears bring you towards or away from people? -- I know I need a lot of alone time to feed creativity. I "schedule" people later in the day when my brain is at its lowest ability or desire to create.
What feedback do you have? What are the gaps in my thinking? What would you add? I think your observations of yourself as a child are so interesting. Chloe was even quieter. Now you are extroverted and Chloe REALLY puts herself out there. It's interesting that you both shifted so much. (I won' t even get into to Spencer!)
The only thing I'd like to add is "seasons." Your needs/desires now won't stay consistent, and that's OK. There are seasons to have more solitude and seasons where you don't even get to go to the bathroom alone. It's all great.