📝 Being Alone

There’s a difference between being alone and feeling alone - though sometimes they feel exactly the same.

There are days when you might be surrounded by people, yet feel completely invisible. Or you might be physically alone, but the silence feels oddly peaceful, like something your heart has been needing for a long time.

Many of us grow up believing that being alone means something is wrong. That we are failing at connection. That we are not lovable or needed enough. And so we fill the space — with noise, with distraction, with others — because being alone feels like a threat.

But being alone can also be a return.
To your breath.
To your thoughts.
To the parts of you that are quieter, often hidden beneath responsibility or performance.
It can be the space where you begin to hear yourself again.

That said, there are also moments when being alone feels like too much. When the silence feels heavy. When the lack of touch, or presence, or witness begins to ache. And in those moments, it’s not weakness to long for closeness. It’s human.

You don’t have to romanticize isolation. And you don’t have to fear it either. There are seasons for solitude, and there are seasons for togetherness. There are moments when healing happens quietly, and others when it can only happen in the presence of another.

Being alone can be brave.
It can be healing.
It can be painful.
It can be beautiful.
It can be all of those things at once.

You are not broken because you are alone.
You are not less worthy.
And this space you are in now - whether chosen or not - might become the ground where something new can begin.