Thriving Solo

Tag: relationships

  • This Is Not Just a Phase

    There’s a certain kind of look people give you when they hear you live alone and like it.

    It’s not always judgement. Sometimes it’s curiosity. Sometimes it’s pity, sometimes naked, often thinly disguised. But almost always, it comes with an assumption: that this, whatever it is, must be temporary. That you’re just taking some time for yourself before you return to “normal.” That eventually, you’ll get tired of the silence. That eventually, you’ll want more.

    More people. More connection. More something.

    Here’s what I’ve come to realise:

    This isn’t a phase. This is my life—right now. Not a prelude to anything. Not a holding pattern. Not a waiting room.

    Just… life. And it’s good.

    A girl, sitting on a bed and drinking tea by a window with potted plants by the windowsill.
    Photo by Ashlyn Ciara on Unsplash.

    I Didn’t Fall Into This By Accident

    I didn’t wake up one day and suddenly find myself living alone. I made choices. I said yes to certain things and no to others. I prioritised autonomy over entanglement. I built a life that fits me, not one that fits a template.

    Also: I don’t claim this is how things will always be.

    People change. Needs change. Circumstances shift. I’m open to the possibility that someday I might want something different.

    At the same time, I’m not looking to change. Simply open to the prospect.

    That doesn’t make this phase less real or less valuable.

    We do ourselves a disservice when we treat every solo life as a transitional one. When we suggest that solitude is only meaningful if it’s leading somewhere else.

    Sometimes, solitude is the destination. Or at least, the right stop for now.

    The Pressure to Evolve Into Something Else

    There’s a kind of self-help narrative that tells us we should always be striving, always improving, always moving forward into the next version of ourselves. And in that worldview, choosing to stay still—or choosing something quieter, smaller, simpler—can feel like rebellion.

    But rebellion isn’t the goal here.

    Presence is.

    I’m not living alone to prove a point. I’m living alone because it’s what fits me right now, because it allows me to be more myself. Because I like the rhythm of my days. Because my space feels good this way.

    There’s nothing unfinished about that.

    It’s a Choice, Not a Life Sentence

    Saying “this is not a phase” doesn’t mean “this is forever.”

    It’s also not entirely true. EVERYTHING is a phase. Nothing is permanent. I had a childhood phase, a university phase, a young professional phase, an engaged phase and a marriage phase. Now I’m having a solitary phase.

    It simply means I’m not treating this as a problem to be solved. Some phases are transitional – engagement, for example. Others, such as marriage, are intended to be indefinite and ongoing—but that doesn’t always work out.

    I’m not measuring this moment against a hypothetical future.

    I’m not living my life like it’s just the trailer for a movie that hasn’t started yet.

    Maybe someday I’ll make room for someone else in this space. Maybe not.

    If I do, it won’t be because I finally “grew out of” living alone.

    It’ll be because my life shifted, and I chose something new from a place of fullness—not from lack.

    Why? Because I don’t lack. I live a full life, on my own terms, and while I enjoy company and companionship, I’m not dependant upon it.

    You don’t have to defend your solitude. You don’t have to treat it like a stopgap. You don’t have to soften the edges for the people who can’t imagine being content in your position.

    This is not a phase.

    This is not a mistake.

    This is a life—a good one, and it’s yours.

    It’s what YOU choose to make of it.

  • Solitude vs. Isolation: Knowing the Difference (and Keeping the Balance)

    Living alone means you get good at being by yourself. You start to learn the rhythms of your space, your thoughts, your time. You learn what recharges you. What drains you. You build rituals that are yours alone. You find peace in silence that used to feel awkward.

    That’s solitude.

    Solitude is chosen. It’s intentional. It’s when your time alone fills your cup, calms your mind, or helps you think. It’s when you end a solo weekend feeling a little more like yourself.

    But sometimes, it slides. Slowly. Quietly. Solitude becomes something else.

    Isolation.

    Isolation doesn’t recharge you. It drains you. It makes you feel like you’re underwater—disconnected, a little foggy, a little adrift. It’s when the silence isn’t peaceful anymore, it’s just heavy. When the space that used to feel like sanctuary starts to feel like a trap.

    It’s a fine line. And the tricky part is, you usually don’t notice when you’ve crossed it until you’ve been on the wrong side for a while.

    My Personal Rule

    Here’s one rule I’ve made for myself:

    Don’t turn down invitations without a damned good reason.

    Not because I’m a social butterfly. I’m not. But because I’ve learned that the part of me that says “you don’t need to go” is often trying to protect me from the discomfort of interaction—not the harm of it.

    I say yes to the beach trip with family, the friend saying “Want to grab a beer?”, the invitation to a family dinner, even when I’m feeling low-energy, unless I’m genuinely unwell, exhausted, or already committed to something that matters.

    Because I know that when I start saying no by default, I start to drift.

    I mostly want to beg off. I like my solitude. Still, these people matter to me.

    I never come away, regretting having gone.

    Questions I Ask Myself

    • Will I regret missing this?
    • Am I saying no because I truly need rest, or because I’m avoiding the effort of showing up?
    • Would this be good for me, even if it’s not easy?

    More often than not, the answer to all of these is yes.

    So I say “Yes”. I say “Thanks” and “I’ll see you there”.

    Final Thoughts

    Solitude is a gift. It’s one of the best things about living alone. But like any gift, it can turn on you if you don’t treat it with care.

    Check in with yourself. Say yes when it counts, and don’t wait until the silence starts to feel heavy before you reach out.

    Because you don’t have to wait until you’re lonely to ask for connection. Sometimes you just need to open the door before it feels closed.

  • Maintaining Relationships When You Prefer to Be Alone

    Living solo doesn’t always mean you’re a loner—but it might mean you have a lower social appetite than most.

    You like your space. You like your routines. You find joy in the quiet, and you don’t need—or want—constant social contact. And that’s perfectly valid. But even the most solitude-loving people still need connection. And relationships, even light ones, need care to survive.

    So how do you keep relationships alive when you’re perfectly content spending most of your time alone?

    Understand Your Own Social Rhythm

    Not everyone thrives on the same amount of connection. Some people need regular interaction to feel grounded. Others (maybe you) can go weeks happily flying solo.

    Knowing your own rhythm helps you make intentional decisions. Are you the kind of person who needs one good chat a week? A text thread that’s always going? A monthly dinner?

    When you understand your needs, you can show up better—on your terms.

    Let People Know You Care (Even If You’re Quiet)

    One of the biggest risks of preferring solitude is accidentally making people feel unimportant. You don’t mean to, of course—you just get caught up in your own world. Days pass. Then weeks. Then months. And suddenly that friend you genuinely like thinks you’ve ghosted them.

    You don’t need to apologise for your nature, but a little effort goes a long way. A check-in text. A link to something they’d love. A meme, even.

    Small gestures keep relationships alive without requiring big energy.

    Low-Effort Doesn’t Mean Low-Value

    If the idea of dinner parties, long phone calls, or scheduled events drains you, lean into low-maintenance connection.

    Some ideas:

    • Replying to Social Media posts directly
    • Sending voice notes instead of typing out long messages
    • Playing low-pressure online games together
    • Watching something at the same time and messaging during

    You don’t have to force yourself into high-energy socialising to be a good friend.

    Be Honest About How You Socialise

    Some people thrive on spontaneity. Others need notice. Some like big groups, others prefer one-on-one. Knowing where you land—and sharing that with people—helps everyone.

    It’s okay to say:

    “I really like hanging out, but I’m a bit socially low-energy, so I might need to flake sometimes.”

    Or:

    “I love catching up one-on-one, but I tend to stay quiet in group chats.”

    The more people understand how you work, the easier it is to maintain relationships without pretending to be more extroverted than you are.

    Also, you can invite the person on the other side to check in with you in the same way – maybe they need a bit more than you’re giving, maybe they don’t always want to be the first one to text, the only one to call.

    Every relationship involves some compromise.

    Make Room—Just a Little Bit

    Maintaining relationships when you live alone and love solitude doesn’t mean overhauling your life. It means leaving just a little space for others:

    • A half-hour chat every now and then
    • A shared hobby or game
    • A standing invitation to catch up (even if it rarely happens)

    You don’t have to go all-in. Just leave the door open.

    Final Thoughts: You Can Be a Quiet Person With Strong Connections

    You don’t have to be constantly available to maintain relationships. You don’t have to say yes to every plan, reply instantly, or be anyone’s social anchor.

    You just have to care enough to show up sometimes, in ways that feel true to you.

    And if you do that? You’ll find that even as someone who prefers solitude, your connections can still run deep—and last.

  • Thriving Solo Isn’t a Waiting Room

    Solo living is often framed as a phase—something temporary, something you pass through on your way to a “real” life with a partner. But what if that’s not true? What if thriving solo is just as valid, just as fulfilling, as any other way of living? What if, for you, it’s even better?

    This isn’t about saying solo life is superior—it’s about recognizing that it might be better for you. It might be better for you forever, or just for now. Either way, the important thing is making the most of it, rather than treating it as a holding pattern while you wait for something else.

    The Myth of Solo Life as a Transition Phase

    From childhood, we’re conditioned to see relationships as milestones—the next step in a progression that starts with school, leads to work, and culminates in pairing up with someone. Living alone, especially for an extended period, is often seen as a gap in that journey, an incomplete chapter. People will tell you, “You’ll find someone eventually,” as if that’s the only logical conclusion to your story.

    But what if it’s not? What if solo living isn’t a phase, but a destination?

    While you ponder that for a moment, remember this too: A destination doesn’t have to be permanent.

    Even if you do eventually choose to be in a relationship, seeing solo living as just a waiting room stops you from fully embracing its benefits. You miss the chance to build a life that’s wholly your own, free from compromise, free from expectations, and rich with self-determined purpose.

    You Are Not Half of a Whole

    There’s a long-standing cultural myth that people are “halves” looking for completion in someone else. This idea is everywhere—from fairytales to rom-coms—but it’s flawed. You are already whole.

    A relationship might enhance your life, but it shouldn’t be the thing that defines its meaning. The moment you start living like you’re waiting for someone to come along and “complete” you, you put yourself on pause. You stop building, stop growing, stop fully inhabiting your own life.

    Instead of waiting, why not thrive? Instead of seeing this time as a gap, why not see it as an opportunity?

    The Real Measure of Success in Solo Living

    If thriving solo isn’t just a phase, how do you measure success? Not by whether you eventually couple up, but by whether your life feels fulfilling and satisfying right now. Success in solo living looks like:

    • Feeling content and at home in your own space.
    • Having routines and habits that support your wellbeing.
    • Enjoying your own company without feeling like something is missing.
    • Pursuing hobbies, passions, and interests on your own terms.
    • Building a life that’s not defined by the absence of a relationship, but by the presence of things that make you happy.

    Solo Might Be Better for You—At Least Right Now

    Maybe solo life is right for you forever. Maybe it’s just right for you right now. Either way, why not make the most of it?

    Instead of treating solo living as a waiting room, see it as an open space where you can explore, learn, and grow without constraints. What do you want from your life, on your own terms? That’s the real question—not whether or not you’ll find someone someday.

    Solo isn’t a pause. It’s a path. And it might just be exactly the right one for you.