As a single woman living on my own, I often feel the need to fill my time. I pack my days with friends, outings, activities — even when those things aren’t really what I want to be doing. Lately, I’m challenging my tendency to overschedule my life by consciously basking in my moments of alone time, whether I’m lying by a lazy river or chopping vegetables while listening to jazz.
I used to dislike the word solitude. It struck a cord of loneliness for me, bringing up feelings of isolation and deprivation. But the truth is that I’ve always enjoyed being alone — preferred it, actually — and the more I redefine what being alone means, the more I see that it’s one of the best forms of self-care I’ve yet to find.
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