you're not afraid of being alone. you're afraid of yourself.
why singleness is freedom, not failure — and why companionship should be earned
Welcome back to Woman on the Cusp, where I write about that weird, messy space between who I used to be and who I’m trying to become.
Today’s essay is about solitude — not in the "romantic trip to Paris" way, but in the “I went to CVS alone and had a great time” way. It’s about learning to enjoy your own company, watching other people spiral without it, and realizing you don’t need a boyfriend to feel alive.
Recently, I’ve come to a shocking conclusion: I enjoy being alone. I enjoy sitting alone. Driving alone. Going to the movies alone. I enjoy silence and listening to the sounds around me.
I’ll grocery shop alone, go to the gym solo, run to CVS by myself.
And yet, as a full-time chatterbox, I do still enjoy having someone to talk at occasionally.
But here’s what I’ve realized lately — some people in my life absolutely loathe the idea of solitude. They physically cannot stand the thought of spending even a specific amount of time by themselves.
Some are more overt about it, which I can respect. If you need constant companionship, by all means, own that.
What fascinates me are the ones who won’t admit it. The ones who lie in bed all day. Who have no individual goals. Who Instacart and Amazon everything to avoid basic human interaction. They don’t take walks. Don’t look around or make eye contact with strangers.
But then — miraculously — they meet the love of their life, and suddenly their world blooms into technicolor.
I was raised by someone where — for them — nothing was ever good enough. Not a person, not a situation, not even themselves. They always needed more. They couldn’t be alone because it was unbearable.
And as a result, I spent my childhood watching a deeply unhappy woman try and fix herself using external love. I’ve watched screaming matches, bottles thrown across rooms, and fist fights. I’ve dealt with emotional and occasional verbal abuse.
This manifested as an avoidant streak. As I’ve said before, I spent years trying for love. And maybe God knew it wasn’t the correct time to give it to me.
Any time anyone shows direct interest, I dodge it. And I’ve supplied explanations for this phenomenon before. It’s scary. It doesn’t make sense to me. It’s uncharted territory. It’s never “Well, of course,” but always, “Well, why?”
Solitude — or frequent singleness, as the white women on TikTok call it — is an opportunity. A true time for reflection. Pondering. I think about how beautiful life is and how lucky I am to experience it. How I could get on a plane tomorrow and not ask for permission from my boyfriend.
It seems to me that everyone I know defines themselves by their perceived external value. Which isn’t awful — until it falls apart on you.
For me, if I spent my entire life defining my existence by how loved I seemed to be — well, I probably would not have survived my childhood.
Part of me enjoys solitude so much because no one can hurt me here. And it gives me the opportunity to just be.
It’s also given me the attitude that if someone chooses to know me — well, sorry, you get all of me.
In terms of male company, I don’t care if you like me. If you think I’m too loud, ugly, or too fat. I frankly don’t care to hear a male opinion on anything, actually. Because I refuse to give anyone power over me, myself, and I.
People can choose to do what they like, and I can’t control that. If you choose to not like me, that’s all you. And I can choose not to care.
Single, partnered, or something in between — the world continues to spin.
I watched a TikTok earlier of a woman who got dumped after a six-year relationship. Rightfully, she was devastated. Her entire life got turned inside out in a matter of minutes.
Now, what I do begin to giggle at was this woman claiming she “won’t make it through this” and “she thinks she’s gonna die” while hysterically sobbing.
And I laugh because, again, the sheer thought of being alone is too much for some people! God forbid this lady had to spend an hour pondering the thought of finally having her life back.
Singleness allows me to have this space. Men want you to be their mommy — and respectfully, I don’t have the time for it. What I desire is companionship. But even that is not necessary at this current juncture of my life.
I’ve never desired to belong to a specific person because I’ve seen what it gets the people in my life.
The most important relationship in my life is the one with myself. I want to find a community. I want people to be happy to see me and to think about me when I’m not there. I want to spread kindness and joy wherever I go.
Because that is what life is truly about.
It’s not dumping your emotional needs on another individual and praying that they fix them for you.
You are responsible for yourself and your own life.
Sorry to break it to you.
🧃 If this resonated, share it with someone who thinks being single is a disease. Or hit reply and tell me what being alone taught you.
And if you're new here — welcome. Woman on the Cusp is a series where I unpack growth, womanhood, and the soft power of choosing yourself. Subscribe below to never miss a Monday.