The Unexpected Power of Solitude

Solitude isn’t loneliness. I used to blur the two. But lately, being alone has given me space to reconnect with who I really am.

I used to fear silence. I’d fill every gap with stimulation—social media, conversations, distractions—anything to avoid being alone with myself. But over time, I’ve come to realise that solitude is where the most important conversations happen: the ones I have with myself.

This space has become fertile ground. It’s where my creativity grows, where my emotional regulation resets, and where I hear the quieter truths I used to drown out. It’s where I’ve begun to build the life I actually want, not the one I thought I had to chase.

In this stillness, I’ve started writing again. Reflecting. Cooking properly. Taking care of my space. And when I do connect with someone, it feels more grounded—like a choice, not a need. There’s no grasping anymore. Just openness.

Solitude has also helped me get clearer on the kind of relationship I want in the future. I want mutual care, not obligation. Grace, not guilt. I want to be in a place where I give my energy because I want to, not because I’m trying to hold something together that doesn’t support me back.

And I know I’ll miss this time, one day—when life is fuller and louder again. So right now, I’m soaking it in.

I don’t feel alone in the way I used to. I feel accompanied by my own presence.

And for now, that’s enough.