Chapter 9: Solitude

If you had asked me several years ago to describe what comes to mind when I hear solitude, I would have said things like quiet, peaceful, reserved, and introspective. And while those things might be true, I’d like to share a few words that describe me: loud, dynamic, energetic, and social.  You can see my dilemma.  I have often felt unqualified to talk about solitude because it seems that solitude is the opposite of who I am.  But I’m learning that my perception of solitude has always been a bit off. Solitude is an essential element of our humanness and whether we are the shyest, most introverted individual or the loudest, most extroverted individual, we all experience and we all need solitude.  It’s taken me a long time to really understand and own my solitude. For me, solitude is challenging because at its deepest core, to be in true solitude, I have to know myself. And knowing me has been, and sometimes still can be, a really scary thing.  To enter deeply into solitude means to enter into relationship with myself. Without anyone else. Without any masks. It seems like it should be such a simple thing to do, right? To be on our own with ourselves?  But it’s not. And I think the reason most of us avoid solitude is because it makes us dig deeper than we are comfortable.  It makes us confront the yuck we haven’t dealt with. Being in solitude means that I am willing to really think about who I am and that can feel like a daunting task.

When I was just out of college, I learned about solitude in a whole new way by attending an eight-day silent retreat.  It’s still a wonder to me that I said yes to this experience, but I did, and it was life-changing.  Although I must admit, it did not start off well.  I’m pretty sure I cried for the first two days.  I was terrified of being quiet. I was terrified of being alone.  I could not even begin to imagine how to fill eight long days without my family and friends. I really thought I wouldn’t make it. And then through some talks with my mentor and some re-framing of the situation, I began to realize that this “silent” retreat was more about solitude than anything else. Of course I would be quiet most of the time, but the point wasn’t to see how long I could go without talking. The point was how I could get to know myself in a space that was just mine for eight whole days.  What could I do to know myself on a deeper level, and arguably know God more deeply too?

It wasn’t easy. I had to think outside the box. I went walking.  I went to a movie by myself.  I read books. I finger-painted. I sat quietly in the chapel and prayed. I began to see what time with me might look like.  This time ended up being a lovely experience, and it taught me my first lesson about solitude—it involves being quiet but more importantly it involves being present.  Present to the moment and present to the things around me that I miss all the time. During that retreat, I could sit quietly in the park and not worry about anything. I could just BE.  It helped me realize that while I am incredibly social and outgoing and loud, I also can be quiet and alone. I began to see new parts of me, and I think that helped me know the divine in a new and different way. I felt true contentment for the rest of those retreat days, and it was solitude at its best.  I didn’t feel lonely or alienated but rather felt a sense of peace about who I was and what I was beginning to learn about myself.

But one retreat is not enough to understand oneself or really understand solitude.  That experience was like dipping my toe in the water.  I wanted to know myself and enjoy my own company but as you can imagine, it’s a lot easier for an outgoing gal to just throw herself into her life and her relationships.  It wasn’t until life handed me one of my biggest challenges that I was able to go to the next level of self-awareness and experience solitude on a whole other plane.  The challenge was being single.

I have never been married and have no children. And apparently if I lived in New York City, I would be one of many single persons living the footloose and fancy-free lifestyle.  But I do not live in New York. I live in St. Louis, Missouri where 97.4% of the people I know are married (and most of them now have children). This may seem like I’m exaggerating, but I am not. I have been a bridesmaid 10 times. I have attended more wedding showers and baby showers than most people do in a lifetime.  I have been the third, fifth, and seventh wheel.  And in the midst of all of this, I was alone. And perhaps as I share this, I sound bitter.  I’m really not anymore.  But I was. For a very long time.  Being single is not for the faint of heart.  It gets old when people ask, with a sort of pitying look, “Are you seeing anyone?”  It is hard when you are always by yourself, and everyone else has a partner to bring to events. It’s hard when society seems structured to support and uphold those who have significant others and you can’t seem to find one.  In fact, for a long time it really made me angry. I felt angry at myself for not figuring this all out like my friends had done. I was angry at God for not making the situation better.  I didn’t like myself very much and so spending so much time alone was pretty terrible.   Solitude was not something I wanted to experience because I was so angry.

And then things changed.  Not overnight but very gradually.  I made a career change. I began working with this amazing coach who has become a trusted mentor. I began to work on really getting to know myself. I spent a lot of time on my own. I journaled. I read a lot. I tried new things. I began thinking about things I really wanted to do, not things I thought I should do. I started running and loved it and so began running half marathons and even did a full marathon.  I became the leader of a local running training group. I found a new community of friends who became sources of support and love. I decided I did not need to be married to get new towels and sheets and home décor. I bought them myself. I decided I could go to a bar and get a glass of wine and read my book. I decided I could have date nights with myself where I got to be with me and do whatever I felt like—watch TV, read a book, see a movie, get something yummy I didn’t cook for dinner.  And somehow as I began to think more about what  I loved to do and how I wanted my life to look, not only did I realize I wasn’t so mad about being single, I actually really loved it.

I realized I was happy and that my life afforded me the opportunity to travel, be ambitious in my career, and be an important adult for my friends’ kids.  I realized I could be a person who could choose what brought her bliss and then do that thing. Suddenly, my solitude was not so awful because I had learned who I was and as it turned out, I liked her a lot. So solitude has become less scary.  It doesn’t mean it is easy or that it isn’t still lonely at times, but I am more comfortable in my own skin and that has made me more comfortable to be on my own.  It’s also connected me more deeply to God.  I don’t know any other way to connect to the divine than to know who I am. I believe God is present in every single human being I encounter and if I’m going to work hard at my relationships, I might want to start by seeing that same thing in myself. Somehow it’s harder for me to love myself.  I’m always struck by how Jesus said we should love others the way we love ourselves. I can’t help but think that others would be screwed if I loved them like I loved myself because I’m a lot harder on myself than on everyone else. But this is what solitude invites us to do—to know ourselves so we can know God and so we can love others in ways we never thought possible.

If we are to be in relationship with God and with others we have to start by knowing who we are.  If we can own our solitude and create a space to know and love ourselves, then we can enter into relationships with others in some beautiful ways. I am better in relationship the more I know myself.  I am able to honor others because I can honor myself.  Solitude is an amazing, beautiful part of the human experience. Like anything, it is scary and sometimes lonely. But it is also the space for us to truly know who we are and who want to become. And that my friends, is the space we meet God.