Living Alone and Loving Myself

By: Chloe Kersey

As I write this, I’m acutely aware that most of you reading this have never experienced what I’m about to describe. I’m also aware that many of you never will. 

But this is the story of a girl who thought she was “tough enough;” who thought she would be fine. But, spoiler alert, she wasn’t. This is the story that I wish I had heard three years ago. And it is my deepest hope that this finds the girl who needs it now.

During my time at Hillsdale, and much of my life before then, I was the social butterfly, extroverted as all get out. I loved people, so much so that I allowed myself to get fully wrapped up in them. That was - and is - a part of me that I’m not ashamed of and I encourage other girls like this to embrace this part of themselves. It made me strong, tough - but it also made me bullheaded.

After a year on the senior class board, four years of putting myself through school, and a lifetime of being the girl who tried to juggle all the balls in the air - I was exhausted. I didn’t know how to deeply, truly rest. With graduation looming, I had little to no emotional bandwidth to handle the day-to-day, let alone finding a job. 

With the thanks of some sorority sisters, I found a job and was offered a position. This position would give me a chance to use my current skills and develop new ones. This position, however, was in a tiny town where I’d know only my handful of coworkers and be hours away from the rest of my support system. But I was the girl who figured it out, who found a way, hell or high water. 

So, I accepted the job, found an apartment that I could barely afford, and moved to the middle of nowhere. And, well, I floundered big time. I wasn’t performing in my job as well as I wanted. My relationship was struggling. I wasn’t as good of a friend as I had been previously, and due to their own post-graduation strains many of them weren’t as good of a friend to me either. That little town never did feel like home, but maybe that’s because I never fully moved into my overpriced apartment. Things were not going well. 

For the first time in my life, I was alone with my thoughts and my actions. And I didn’t like what I heard or saw. Making new friends was nearly impossible and those I did have were hours away. I was my only option for company. I needed to find ways to enjoy myself and my life - and fast or I was never going to make it. 

God’s grace (which sort of felt like luck at the time) did protect me in many ways. I was able to find a good psychiatrist that doubled as a counselor. A semi-local family took me under their wing and gave me someone to sit with at Mass. Our seasonal hire at my job became a friend - one I had prayed for for months. 

But a psychiatrist is not family, Sunday Mass was only on Sundays, and our seasonal hire had her own family and baby to take care of. They provided me with a respite, but nothing concrete. 

Honestly, what got me through the weeks was developing child-like wonder about incredibly mundane things. I cooked and baked a lot. I listened to podcasts on philosophy and had debates in my own mind. Picking up tacos and eating them at the park for dinner to watch the ducks swim became my favorite ritual. 

Being honest with myself, with God, and with those who loved me was what got me through the season. No one can truly know how much you’re struggling unless you tell them - and that includes yourself. God knows how much you’re struggling, but as the Good Father that He is, He desires for you to tell Him. Journaling and meditative prayer became just as much me communicating with God as it was me finally being honest with myself. 

I cried more in those twelve months than I have in some parts of my life combined. But I now know how to fill an evening effectively, how to eat at a restaurant alone comfortably, and how to enjoy being alone without feeling lonely. And those are skills and traits that I am grateful for; they will protect, serve, and comfort me for years to come. 

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Please note: no part of me is suggesting purposefully putting yourself through something that looking back now, I don’t know if I’d do again. 

But here is what I am suggesting: If you’re the girl who always made it work, who was never alone, who always figured it out - you’re allowed to not have it figured out. You are allowed to ask for help. You’re allowed to admit you’re struggling. 

There are ways to learn to be alone that don’t involve moving four hours away from your entire support system. There are ways to learn to enjoy your own company that don’t involve literally only having yourself. You can take a break from dating - a real break, where you’re not constantly looking forward to dating. You can go on a silent retreat one Saturday a month. You can take up a hobby that actively participates in active rest and silence - such as journaling, sewing/knitting, art, reading, etc. Take yourself - and only yourself - out to brunch; don’t get it to go, eat at the restaurant. I promise you, you’ll start to feel more and more comfortable. Loving someone takes time, being comfortable with people takes time - even if that “someone” is yourself.

This advice (take it or leave it), does not just apply to extroverts. The older I get, the more I learn that being introverted doesn’t mean you enjoy your own company. I strongly advise any and all introverts reading this to really take stock and ask yourself, “is being alone simply how my social batteries recharge? Or do I actually enjoy my own company?”

The last thing I leave you with is this: you are not alone. Even in feelings of being alone, you’re not. “Alone” is not your identity and neither is “lonely.” And in times when you feel like it is - remember that this too shall pass. And it will pass a little quicker if you enjoy the company you have - even if that’s just yourself.