The Joy of Being Alone: How To Embrace Solo Time In Midlife

I love socializing, but I’ve also always been an introvert. For most of my life, I thought something was wrong with me because I’d come home from a gathering and feel drained  - not because I didn’t enjoy it, but because I did. But because I gave all my energy in the moment, and then needed quiet to fill myself back up.

As long as I’m confessing, I will also tell you that for years, because I was not a brave little toaster who could buckle down and ignore the imaginary thoughts of strangers, I believed I would be judged harshly for going to the movies, out to lunch, or wandering through a museum by myself.

Jesus, that’s kind of a lot. And it makes me ridiculously sad to think that I lived that way for so much of my life.

Now that some time has passed (which is a less painful way of saying I’m OLD), I’ve stopped fighting that side of me and started embracing it, and it turns out, my need for alone time isn’t a flaw; it’s fuel.

Doing things alone isn’t weird; it’s freeing. It’s in those quiet moments that I recharge, reflect, and reconnect with myself. My biggest regret is that it took 50+ years to realize that being alone isn’t lonely - it’s one of the best gifts I can give myself. And that right there is a milestone that proves that I’m learning how to not give so many f*cks about inconsequential things. Let’s revel in the miracle! 

I’ve developed small rituals that recharge my soul when I need to balance a hectic social schedule—things like walking on the beach. Sometimes I slip in my earbuds and get lost in a novel; other times, I take in the sprawling beachfront mansions and let the waves do the talking.

I now have a fondness for going to the movies alone. Younger me would rather have DIED than be viewed as a friendless loser by strangers. What was I thinking? The freedom is glorious. You pick the perfect seat, aren’t required to share your snacks, and can walk out at any point if the movie stinks. Total liberation.

Sometimes I’ll go to St. Augustine, sit on a bench, people-watch, and pretend to be a tourist. I was raised in the church of Never Talk With Your Mouth Full and Never Eavesdrop, but occasionally - okay, often - I’ll sin, listen in on a stranger’s conversation, and get pulled into the drama unfolding around me. Holy shit! Did she say Kelsey called off the wedding? Why?! Now I must telepathically communicate with the woman doing the talking so she spills the details! Damn, they just left without finishing the story. (Insert sound of me emitting a palpable huff of disapproval!)

When I decide to speak, my occasional rituals have led to wonderful conversations with strangers. I once sat next to another solo-goer at the movies, and we bonded over whether or not Ryan Gosling is hot. Definitely hot! True story: I met him at the gym and worked out with him for an hour on a treadmill, where he chatted my ear off and I never realized it was the REAL RYAN GOSSLING, until everyone made fun of me for being so clueless and proving there are no limits to dumbassery.

But enough about Ryan Gossline. I’m going to circle back around to the top and close this by saying I used to see solitude as a gap to be filled, but now I see it as a space to grow. I love socializing, but midlife and a little personal growth have shown me that hanging out with myself isn’t second best—it’s essential. And honestly, I wish I’d given myself that permission years ago.