5 Lessons I’ve Learned from My Season of Solitude
Sometimes, it’s lonely. Other times, this is freedom.
I’ve been single for so long that past relationships begin to feel like a dream I had once. Was there ever another person reaching for me in the night? Did I wake up knowing I was loved and cared for? Were kisses shared, or was that only an illusion? The fog clears on another day, and I continue my season of solitude.
For some reason, I always equated the idea of being single to dating, but there’s none of that happening here. I don’t meet new people or go out on dates. My life is simple. I work. I raise my kids. I read books and work in my garden. I see friends and dream dreams, but I’m not in love with anyone anymore.
But last night, my daughter wanted to know if I would ever marry again. It seemed unlikely in the face of my current single state, but I answered her questions and sent her off to bed. Then, I sat up and wondered if that would ever be in the cards for me. I tried to picture my life with someone else, but it’s far easier to picture that life alone. I can count on the books I’ll read and the flowers I’ll grow, but I can’t count on another person loving me one day without changing their mind six months later.
That statement alone says a lot about my relationships. It says a lot about me. I self-identify as fiercely independent, but I know that much of that identity has been a result of trauma and necessity. If love felt conditional, then I felt I had to work harder for it. Nothing less than perfection would do. As perfection is impossible, a sense of inadequacy haunted me. I had to always be “on”, always cheerful, always strong, and always loving them more to make up for them loving me less.
Yet, I’ve had trauma therapy and done the deep inner healing work necessary to get better. I know that healthy relationships won’t require me to be perfect. I know that I won’t experience crippling relationship insecurity with a partner who loves me well. But I also know that all future relationships are hypothetical, and I am now in my season of solitude.
Here’s what I’ve learned from it.
The Difference Between Being Alone and Being Lonely
Loneliness is a part of the human condition, and updating our relationship status won’t prevent us from ever feeling alone or isolated. I have not felt lonely the entire time I’ve been single. Sometimes, I relish my single status. Other times, the loneliness of not having a partner comes creeping in. I’ve learned to distinguish between being alone and being lonely, and I’ve found ways to enjoy my solitude without ignoring the fact that there are days that I don’t enjoy it at all.
Loneliness can be dangerous. It can tempt us to compromise ourselves just to have another person in our lives, but there are also true health risks to isolation, particularly as we age. The Center for Disease Control (CDC) reports that social isolation increases the risk of dementia and other serious health conditions by 50%. By the same token, building stronger social relationships can decrease that risk, and those relationships don’t have to be romantic to count.
The Necessity of Strong Social Support
Strong social support is linked to better health outcomes, but it also helps us feel cared for beyond romantic relationships. When I got divorced, I found out just how hard it was to relocate and make friends as an adult. It took a long time to cultivate healthy platonic relationships because I was so focused on trying to raise young children and restart my life.
Eventually, I ended up in another relationship, and he became my very best friend. The problem with that, of course, is that when a relationship with our very best friend ends, we don’t just lose a lover. We lose the person we like best and want to talk to the most. We’re losing our partner and best friend at the same time, and it’s awful to do that when we don’t have strong support otherwise.
What happened after that was good and necessary. I began to make true friends. I spent more time cultivating the ones I had and making new ones. As I discovered new interests and rebuilt my life, I found friends who made me feel loved and accepted in a way I hadn’t felt in romantic relationships. They don’t expect me to be perfect. They don’t expect me to single-handedly work to keep the connection alive. They just appreciate me for who I am and enjoy my company as much as I enjoy theirs. It hurt to no longer have a partner, but it helped to have strong friends to see me through the grief.
The Process of Acceptance and Accountability
Solitude — the kind where we’re not online dating or engaging with potential romantic partners — has another benefit. We begin to accept the reality of our situation. If we have wisdom and maturity, we stop making former partners the enemy and begin to see them for who they are and how it’s out of alignment with who we are. We learn acceptance.
And if we’re lucky, we learn accountability, too. Once I got beyond disappointment and anger, I could look at my own behavior. Yes, I would have worked hard to fix the problems in the relationship. Yes, I would have kept loving him and choosing him every day. But, no, I wasn’t perfect, and some of my behaviors created problems in the relationship, too. It’s not either/or. It’s not about heroes and villains. I could accept his choice to end the relationship without assigning blame to his character, and I could be accountable for my own behavior.
Accountability is important. It won’t likely change the relationship that’s over, but it can make us better people — and better partners — in the future. Plus, self-awareness is invaluable. We can’t grow, break toxic cycles, and choose healthier relationships until we’re aware and accountable.
The Freedom of Time on Our Hands
Relationships can take up a lot of time and energy. In the space where they end, we have some freedom. Some days, I wasted that freedom binge-watching shows or doom-scrolling social media, but other days, I found time to explore new interests. I got certified as a yoga instructor — something I’ve wanted to do since I took my first yoga class in college. I went skydiving — twice. And I did it on my own. It was spectacular. I took pottery lessons, and even if I never recreated the scene from Ghost, I learned how to make art with my own two hands and to use the time as a form of mindful meditation.
I did other things, too. I went out to lunch with friends during the week and read new books. I adopted kittens, a decision my dog still questions every day but that I’m happy to have done. I bought a house and made it into a home. I planted fruit trees, a dream I’ve had since I was a child running wild on my grandmother’s property. I learned more about myself — like the fact that I likely have ADHD — and it helped me create healthier habits in my life.
As much as being alone can hurt at times, it also offers a lot of freedom. We have time to fill it, and we get to choose how to fill it. The laundry still has to be done, but maybe I listen to the music a former partner didn’t like while I do it. I get to make so many choices, and there’s beauty in that. I don’t feel like I’m waiting for my match. I feel like I’m intentionally living my life and doing my best to live it well. Apart from the doom-scrolling, of course.
Clarity on the Present and Future
My season of solitude has also helped me get clarity on both the present and the future. The past, too, if I’m honest. I know who I am, and I know what I want. I know that I can have a healthy, loving relationship, but I also know that if one doesn’t happen, I can have a healthy and loving relationship with myself. I’ll be happy either way.
The clarity has helped. I have a home to call my own. I have plans for a future that aren’t dependent on a partner. I have children who are happy and healthy. It’s not been easy. I’ve had my share of struggles — still have them, in fact, but I also have more clarity than I’ve ever had before. My life doesn’t look the way I once thought it would, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be a good life.
My season of solitude continues. I’m not closed off to finding love and a healthy relationship. I’m simply living my life and being open to the possibilities without my life revolving around them. I don’t know what the future holds, but I’ve made peace with uncertainty in my life. I don’t have all the answers. I don’t know what will come next. I only know that I am the one person I’m guaranteed to spend a lifetime with, and I have to make it count.
