If you asked me a year ago what my biggest fear was, I would’ve said being alone. After a lifetime of learning to connect with people and letting go of friendships that have slowly faded out of my life, I began to fear the inevitable feeling of loneliness.
On one hand, I was terrified of doing anything alone, and restricted myself to primarily group activities, which ended up limiting a lot of time for self-reflection and personal time. On the other hand, I was worried about losing people, so what originally was supposed to be a break from finishing homework and studying for tests became a draining social event. Contrary to my initial goal, I felt devoid of human interaction despite being surrounded by people.
As time passed, I was forced to endure small moments of independence, whether it be getting the school lunch on my own, or veering off from a group of friends to walk to a class. Instances like these, where I got the opportunity to put in my earbuds and debrief from earlier social interactions and chaos, allowed me time to regenerate, recuperate and allow my thoughts to run wild.
After undergoing one particular week full of mayhem, for the first time, I encountered a longing for time-alone, which unbeknownst to me, wouldn’t be my last. Needing some alone time, I bought a movie ticket for a film that had been sitting at the top of my watch list and made my way over to the movie theatres. Sitting alone in a dark room filled with air conditioning, with nothing but the noise of trailers playing, I felt a wave of tranquility pour over me. Post movie, I was caught off guard with how the stress I felt earlier washed away. $15 and two hours of self-care made me feel far better than any social interaction I had within the past week. I came to realize that sometimes the cure to overwhelm can be found in solitary moments.
Feeling refreshed, I found a new sense of confidence. Traversing the insides of a movie theatre had just been the beginning of my hunt to explore everything I’ve restricted myself to prior due to the fear of embarrassment. I found a love for hot yoga, the sauna-like room compressing my skin as my heart-rate flared, induced relaxation I had never felt before; digital painting, where the strokes of my pen take me to a world of creativity where hours seem to turn into seconds; and even sitting on the cold floor of my living room, spending hours doing my nails while watching a marathon of movies.
Recently, I had the opportunity to fly alone for the first time. Although hesitant to navigate the airport without the support of my mom’s innate directional abilities, I took a chance. Not sure of what to expect, I was pleasantly surprised with my experience. I arrived two hours early to make sure I had time to spare . In that time, I visited various shops, scanning the inflated prices of the row of sandwiches and several tourist outlets, where I purchased an “I love NYC” bear keychain. With my time well-spent, I boarded the airplane and flew home, while watching one of my favorite movies. I felt my trip complete, feeling fully satiated.
My new found ability to enjoy activities on my own hasn’t only brought me confidence and happiness, but also an enjoyment for exploring uncharted territory, whether it be pottery-sculpting, or climbing my first rock wall. I still find joy in conversing with friends and spending quality time with family members but the option of not having to limit my choices of fun to a group of people’s preferences has opened my eyes to a world of self-reflection, calming energy and self-love.
To this day, I feel the calming effects of even the smallest moments of “me time,” whether it be finding the joy in looking for new snacks at Vons, or having lunch on the couch of my teacher’s room with my music turned up all the way. The feeling of loneliness that I had been trying to evade wasn’t a result of physical isolation, but the worry of not being accepted for the things I love. Whether you want to attribute my love for time alone to the ambivert phenomenon is up to you, but the fact of the matter is everybody needs a little bit of time for self-care, and it’s those moments that count most.
