(Mostly) Alone

I’ve spent a large portion of my life alone.

As a child in school, I had relatively few friends. I was too annoying, too weird, too intense, too something. This isn’t a standard “nobody likes me everybody hates me” circlejerk. And I’ve been accused of that sort of self-pity in the past when I’ve tried to discuss this, and told numerous times that it’s my own fault. But it’s just a fact. This isn’t about sympathy. I spent most playtimes alone, I’d play by myself. It was sad at first, but it gradually became one of my favourite things about the day.

I started exercising by myself when I was about 14. Running, walking, swimming, attending the gym. Lots of people don’t realise this but I actually love exercising, as hard as it is for me. I didn’t take up working out to lose weight or even with a specific fitness level goal in mind. I took it up because it’s fun. And at that time, I still had not many friends, often spending lunchtime alone. I would have to ask random people to sit with them in the canteen quite regularly. But once I started exercising alone on my weekends or with evening walks, it didn’t matter as much.

At 15, I started doing outings alone. Wandering the neighbourhood, exploring, going window shopping. I used to get a milkshake beforehand quite often. My mum often told her friends, proudly, that I did so. They admired my courage in learning, while still young, how to hang out with myself. But I never saw it as an act of courage, at all. I did, and still do, just think of it as choosing to do it alone over not doing it at all. I moved to London at the age of 23, almost 4 years ago. I did so alone, as in not with a partner or a friend. When I lived with the people I lived with at the beginning, it was the most alone I’ve ever been, ironically. I was told it was a good thing, although I had no control over it and it felt more like being fenced off than choosing to spend time with myself. When my mental health was very poor a couple of years ago, I would get very upset about having to spend so much time alone, because I very much still do as an adult. I would say to people that I was defective because at the big age of 24, I didn’t have a huge girly pop friendship group like other women of my age seemed to. I was just so fucking sick of being alone, and decided that if I couldn’t do everything with other people, I didn’t want to do anything at all.

Here’s the thing though - I’m not other women my age. I’m me. And actually, I’ve realised that forming huge friendship groups for the sake of being included and usually ending up as a punching bag for those people was not good for me. My specific flavour of neurodiversity dictates how I socialise, which seems to be in multiple small circles rather than one huge one. This is not unusual for neurodiverse women, my age and older, or actually for neurodiverse people of any gender. And to be honest, this is fine.

On the journey of improvement, I’ve figured out that (and this is something I imagine I share with many many people) I value peace. A lot. I like my privacy and I like my space. I enjoy having few friends who know me well than 17 billion who barely remember my birthday (it’s November 15th). And what happened to me, when I was being drawn into these large circles that were rarely away from each other, was that I wasn’t able to prioritise my peace. I actually didn’t have any, and I was unable to improve because I felt the need to be included so deeply. I still feel afraid of being alone sometimes, but I can work through it now. Something that helped was taking a trip abroad alone last year, it helped me confirm with myself that I preferred doing it alone over not doing it at all (and I will die on this fucking hill). It also helped me understand what peace really was, and helped me figure out that I cared more about that than about filling my life with people who would drain me over and over again, and cause me to drain the people I care about.

I went to a park by myself today, and even though I don’t think twice about going out and doing things alone nowadays, it made me realise that I know how to be alone now. I actually have to be prompted to invite other people sometimes because I have people around me who want to join me on my adventures (a novel concept for me, even at 27 years old). My bestie told me I needed to learn to be alone before I could be with anyone else, and I rejected that advice out of hand purely because I was sick of being alone. But after I got my BPD into remission in Oct/Nov time, I realised that was correct. So I taught myself to be alone again, and to sit with myself where I was rather than expecting improvement immediately. I did little things by myself, and then I became included in other people’s plans more often. I guess people find the sort of confidence it takes to do things alone to be a really attractive personality trait? Not sure of the exact science behind it. But anyway.

So, not only is it perfectly healthy to be alone, but being alone and having boundaries with it is also the route into being included in other people’s plans more often. Your socialisation doesn’t have to look the same as everyone else’s, because you’re not everyone else. You’re you.

And I’ll die on that hill.