Not Lonely, Just Alone

Henry David Thoreau once said, "I've never found a companion that was so companionable as solitude." I hate this quote because he's right. I've made three trips to Annapolis and back in five weeks in complete solitude. My only companion's on those two hour drives are Khalid, Post Malone, and Milky Chance. I check into my hotel room and they give me two room key cards when I only need one. I walk through town and my earbuds and backpack make it obnoxiously obvious that I'm there alone. I tell myself it's ok though -- that I should be proud. Yet most times when I get to my hotel room and see two of everything I have to convince myself, "I'm not lonely, I'm just alone."

I'll argue the differences.

**Please know I'm not trying to be offensive. I'm aiming to tastefully share my personal growth while simultaneously challenging any readers that find themselves at these crossroads.

Alone time isn't always voluntary. We currently live in a society, and I in a generation, that commits to something until something better comes along -- plans or relationships. As some one who always has high hopes, being disappointment is amplified. I figure, if I'm alone and I commit to myself, I'm not allowing disappointment to dictate me. Alone can be rewarding. For example, when I'm alone I can watch Sweet Home Alabama twice in a row and crank my the heat up to 75 with no objections. Instead, I often feel most alone in crowds of people. Hemmingway said it best, "I drink to make other people interesting." Despite my dry lifestyle, I relate to this on a spiritual level. Conversations are back-breaking. I don't have time for small talk. Leave me alone -- I'll talk to myself and carry my own damn conversation.

Loneliness is how one deals with being alone. I know in my times of loneliness I willingly chose isolation over accessibility. It led to bad decisions and a smorgasbord of sin. Emotionally and physically, I couldn't maintain that lifestyle. I had to get comfortable in my loneliness in order to get to a place of normalizing alone time. It was uncomfortable. I'd ride waves of bravery only to be sunk by a rouge wave of purposeful isolation. It was a horribly uncomfortable process to overcome, but the lessons have been incalculable.

I used to swim as well as a sinking ship. I was constantly filling buckets of self-care and throwing them overboard because I confused alone time as loneliness. I overcame loneliness by embracing hugs from co-workers and reciprocating the "I love you, too's" that they would drench me in. Even when I lay alone in my hotel room I don't feel lonely because I have Zoe who picks up my facetime calls at 11pm and listens to me talk about bagels and candles. I have an unshakeable family unit and three super cuddly pets. The self-timer on my iPhone arguably takes better pictures than an actual person. And if you're reading this and feel like you don't have that, you have me. I encourage, as always, be brave, set goals, choose joy, and do hard things.