Alone Again

We make a lot of assumptions about loneliness, sometimes forcing ourselves onto people who are honestly fine with being alone thank you very much. Perhaps there is a difference between loneliness and being alone. The first can occur for many reasons but is generally done 'to you' not 'by you' and can be a result of a series of abandonments as people exit your life. The second is perhaps more likely to be your choice. You are alone because you have selected to live your life by yourself, unencumbered by the whims and tantrums of others, out of the range of situations over which you have no control.

I am comfortable being alone, although there is always an animal or two around. At the moment I am free to fill my days with many things or with nothing at all. If I crave company I can, and do, seek it out. My life partner and I can sit quite companionably in the evenings, doing our own things, occasionally pausing to talk about something, or nothing. We no longer feel the need to fill the void with noise and pointless conversation. There are no longer children who need our attention, our reassurance, our comforting words. Nobody cares if we don't load the dishwasher or dust the furniture. We are not old, we are just at ease.

I tend to avoid crowded places, they overstimulate my brain and send my senses into overdrive. These are the places where, if I do have to enter them, I feel most alone. Shopping centres, public transport, big events, no longer on my radar. The sensory overload of clashing strains of music, too many voices, body odours, bright light, unnatural temperatures all become too much and I have to escape. Of course when I was young and living in cities, I frequented all of these places. The experience was never pleasant and the only way I could manage was to disappear inside myself, become invisible and imagine I was somewhere else. I couldn't always manage that and would often end up in full blown panic attack mode, desperately seeking an escape route, needing to be outside where it felt safe. Alcohol always helped, taking the edge off, making me feel confident, sociable even. Back then you could even drink on the commuter trains from the big smoke back to the soulless suburbs that all looked the same. Shopping centre trips could often be a bit of a dash and grab, usually lasting about an hour before I had to find a bar and a glass of wine.

I haven't been inside a shopping centre for over a year, we don't even have one where I live now. The last time I used public transport was probably ten years ago. The same goes for my last foray into the world of live music, dancing to an emerging band, drink in hand, trying not to get stuck to the disgusting carpet on the floor of the tiny venue. I do not miss any of this. Being alone doesn't make me feel lonely. Being alone makes me more aware of my surroundings, more mindful, more appreciative. Being alone is, after all, just being.