I am completely comfortable eating alone.
Am I weird? Maybe. Is this out of the ordinary? Perhaps. Do I feel awkward or upset about this?
Not at all.
I am perfectly content in my solitude.
And there’s a reason why I am okay with this. Last semester was literally insane. I would wake up, go to Mass, go to work, and then go to class. At times, right after class, I would head to the theatre for rehearsal, and then as soon as it was over, I would dash off to a late night household commitment. Exhausted from the stress of the day, I would collapse into bed at an early hour, and start the cycle all over again the following morning. I was constantly surrounded by people throughout the day, be it by interacting with others during work, sitting with them in class, or serving them in my role as house manager during show performances. Though as an extrovert, I understandably thrived off of this, I still needed a bit of a respite from people. I needed a moment of peace within my hectic life. I needed time where I could collect my thoughts, and just be.
Mealtimes were the perfect opportunity for a welcome moment of solitude
Sure, in the beginning, it felt a bit odd to be eating by myself every day for every meal, but I grew to like it. I worried for a bit, as everyone is apt to do, that others would see me alone and pity me in my supposed loneliness. But I took a step back, and realized that literally no one cares whether you’re having a meal with a large group of people, or alone with a good book. Everyone else is minding their own business. They are not going to think twice of your appearance in the dining hall.
As the semester progressed, I looked more and more forward to these moments alone. During this time, I could catch up on homework, organize my to-do list for the rest of the day, or merely people watch as I took a moment to calm myself down from the constant state of overwhelming business that propelled me through each task. These sparse opportunities allowed me a bit of calm in the midst of the storm.
As time went on, this appreciation of solitude extended past meal times. By being comfortable alone, I am able to go on a last minute trip to the theatre to see a play by myself. I am able to enjoy a quiet evening with a book without the fear of missing out on anything too exciting. I am able to attend events alone without dragging along someone who would not appreciate it to the fullest. I am able to enjoy moments of silence, and cherish them as they flutter by.
As I write this, I think about the future. There will be a day when I graduate from college and will be forced to live on my own. Of course, I may have roommates, but the odds of us spending all of our spare time together are pretty slim. Job opportunities may send me off to places where I know absolutely no one. I will one day be separated from the familiar faces, family, and friends.
If I am not comfortable in solitude now, how will I be expected to truly live comfortably when I am forced into it in the future?
And solitude does not equal loneliness. There are days when I crave the presence of other human beings. Just because I am comfortable alone does not mean that I loathe being around other humans. On the contrary, my solitude helps me to appreciate and cherish the presence of another even more. I know that I am not alone. I choose my solitude for necessary reasons. Either I need to recharge, I need a rest from the day, I want to see a show that others don’t want to see, or I want to enjoy certain experiences without any distractions. My moments of solitude are my own personal decision to be alone. They are opportunities for me to slow myself down, and to view the world around me in extreme and loving detail.
In the business of today’s world, those moments all too rare to come by.
