the right kind of loneliness

I’m on day 5 without the kids – something that only ever happens in the summer – and so far I’ve taken a yoga class, cleaned out my garage, completed two books, watched a full season of something on Netflix, hiked a nearby spot, cleaned out the kids’ closets, made a few trips to Goodwill, begun my book proposal, and accepted a freelance writing job. Today I have another yoga class and a lunch with friends on the books.

I guess as it turns out, I am not all that good at relaxing. I say I’m fine with being alone, but as always, the body keeps the score, and I’m up early every morning with more energy than I should have — all that end-of-the-school-year exhaustion hardly palpable this week as I suddenly have the fire to complete every task under the sun.


I know I’m tired and craving stillness on the inside, but you have to carve away the layers to get to that spot, or I do anyway. I hope to get faster about that eventually, but for now, I can remember that this is how it works for me always. I squirm a lot and try to move to the right or the left instead of just sitting with it. I self-medicate with busyness. And then the buzz slows its pace little by little until the stillness finally arrives.

I can remember what this was like the first summer I was on my own, and it’s not nearly that bad anymore. But I’m surprised to feel that anxious fire still there a bit even now, two years later. You think you have mastered something and moved beyond it, but there it is again. I’m remembering what Pema Chodron wrote in When Things Fall Apart, “Nothing ever goes away until it has taught us what we need to know. if we run a hundred miles an hour to the other end of the continent in order to get away from the obstacle, we find the very same problem waiting for us when we arrive. it just keeps returning with new names, forms, manifestations until we learn whatever it has to teach us about where we are separating ourselves from reality, how we are pulling back instead of opening up, closing down instead of allowing ourselves to experience fully whatever we encounter…”

I think part of this, if I’m being honest with myself, is that since I’m seeing someone, it’s been months since I’ve had an extended time of being alone like this. He’s on a big trip across the country with family this week though, so I have to sit with it awhile again. Timing is never accidental, and I think I needed this. (We all need it from time to time.) There is no barometer that can allow you to check in with yourself except stillness and solitude. It’s also Pema Chodron who reminds me, “Usually we regard loneliness as an enemy. Heartache is not something we choose to invite in. It’s restless and pregnant and hot with the desire to escape and find something or someone to keep us company. When we can rest in the middle, we begin to have a nonthreatening relationship with loneliness, a relaxing and cooling loneliness that completely turns our usual fearful patterns upside down.”

This is the ultimate test of joy and contentment, I think. Can you sit with yourself without distraction for any period of time? Strip the roles away piece by piece – mother, wife, girlfriend, employee, friend, sister – whatever they may be. Strip it all away and stay awhile with the person underneath all of that. Sitting in the loneliness, the right kind of loneliness, for a minute, an hour, a day. It shines a light on all the places where you are holding something too tightly.

I can remember writing something in the early days when my life exploded, and I said I knew that there are women who grow stronger and wiser from life’s heartache but that I didn’t know how they got there. Now I know though. It’s that time alone to feel the pulse of what you need and want and what life is teaching you. That’s how you get there.

I’m recognizing the value of it all and trying to be grateful for it, even in the itchy silence of an empty house. Stillness and solitude always show me what I need to know.

9 thoughts on “the right kind of loneliness

  1. You have explained your solitude beautifully. In life you will have many unpleasant moments, where you have to pause and assess the situation. Life is full of pleasant and unpleasant moments. With time and right attitude you will learn to navigate your life with ease. Bumps will be there but you will sail smoothly. Hang in there, Enjoy the present moment!🌼

  2. I didn’t know how much I needed to read this today. A very happy accident of serendipity. Keeping the faith in the right kind of loneliness over here…

    1. We all have our own struggles. It never goes away, type of situation changes. Whether we like it or not, accepting and embracing makes it easer to bear. It will happen.

  3. Love this article. I love your vulnerability in your writing and the Pema Chodron quote is spot on! I’m really glad I found your blog when I did. I have been single roughly the same time as you because of similar circumstances. I can relate to a lot of what you write. You are not alone in this journey of self discovery.

    1. Thank you so much for reading and for the words of solidarity. It’s not always an easy road, but it feels so good to look back and see how solitude helped you to grow, doesn’t it?

      1. Amen to that. I can’t believe my transformation 2 plus years out. I still have a way to go but man, have I come a long way!

  4. I’ve recently went through a year long divorce and an end to a decade of marriage. Still getting used to what to do with myself in the quiet of my home when my children are away. My role as a Mother seems to stay with me as I want to lay around but something in my mind tells me to get busy. Thank you so much for your words. This new season I’m in is tough, having someone next to me for the last decade and constant movement and craziness in my house no more is hard. I’m learning to appreciate the quiet, it’s hard but I do find myself at times grateful to take a bath alone, to not have to cook for the days they are with their Dad. And eventually I feel as though I may even not feel guilty for simply wanting to lay in bed all day. What I’m not looking forward to is this summer when my children will be gone an entire month. Days of quiet are tough but a month seems unbearable….

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