"You get a lot of enjoyment and purpose from being alone. How? Why?"
These are questions which I have spoken about a lot in recent conversation and have recently realised has this answer.
When I was six, I took the 734 bus to school on my own. The 8.37am bus would get me to school at 8.58, two minutes before the bell rang for class to begin; I would run to the bus stop and hope that I had zipped up my schoolbag so my two vegemite sandwiches wouldn't fall out. As the bus reached my stop, I would never be able to reach the wire to alert the driver that I needed to get off, so I would either ask a grown up to "pull the string for me because I have to get off" or tell the bus driver in my preppy voice "next stop please".
When I was seven and eight, I would spend my school holidays on a train alone to the city before catching a tram to South Melbourne to visit my mum at work in a sandwich bar on Montague Street. I didn't own a mobile phone; I carried a little wallet with a Metcard train ticket inside and I may have brought my Gameboy Colour or a book to distract myself. People would often approach me if I was lost and I would say:
"I'm just going to see my mum at work."
"Where does she work?"
"In a sandwich bar in South Melbourne, I know the way."
When I was in high school, I thought that seeing my school friends once during the various school/summer holidays was the norm. Part of me justified it because I lived thirty kilometres away, but I probably just didn't make many close friends there. I would spend my days at home on MSN Messenger or making up some imaginary game with my brother or kicking a tennis ball around the house until I was bored.
I think being alone is like a hobby: you need to practice it every so often and figure out how you enjoy it most.
Being alone throughout my childhood and adolescence taught me a lot: like how the sunlight slowly moves the shadows coming from the blinds across the lounge room as the day goes on; how to find my way back if I ever got lost; how to be silent and observe my surroundings to see/hear something new everywhere I went, even if I had been there hundreds upon thousands of times; how to judge whether a stranger was a good person or whether I should run away from stranger danger; the greatest thing it taught me was that the world was huge but not as scary as the adults made it seem, that the world was inherently and predominantly a good place with good people just trying to live their lives, and that we should embrace being alone from time to time because to be alone means we can truly understand who we are and what we love and how we feel and how we can be good to ourselves once again.
There is so much to discover in the world and within yourself and being alone makes you learn how to explore those worlds.
Here is a simple guide for you to be alone and be good to yourself:
- Make yourself a soothing drink at home. I personally enjoy a green tea on an overcast day or a juice on a warmer day
- Think of an activity that you really enjoy doing or a place you love/have always wanted to explore. You can combine both!
- Do it on your own, after you finish your soothing drink of course.
- Make a mental note of the significant thoughts which come into your head when you do it.
- Tell your best friend about it. We are social beings after all. This doesn't mean you have to tell them straight away, save it until you next see them.
Below are some photos and words from a recent solo journey: a two hour Sunday neighbourhood walk before a storm.
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