I’ve hated being alone for as long as I can remember. When I was little, it terrified me, especially at night. Part of it was my fear of all things paranormal or dangerous, but still, the anxiety that took root in me once the lights went out ensured that by sunrise, without fail, I’d end up sleeping in my parents’ bed.
I wasn’t a naïve kid; I knew that if a vengeful spirit ever actually wandered into our house, there wasn’t much my parents could actually do. Still, I believed in their ability to protect me, especially my dad, whom I saw as Superman. Being with them just put me at ease.
That part of me didn’t fade as I got older; it just changed. Now, I don’t like being alone for different reasons. I always want someone by my side. Sleepovers were my favorite thing growing up; I wanted to be at a friend’s house or have them at mine every weekend. Honestly, I still do. I hate spending time alone when I could be sharing it with friends or family.
The problem is, my social battery seems to be never-ending while everyone else’s runs out like any normal person’s. I’ve never met anyone like me who could hang out with friends 24/7 and never get tired of it. Being around others recharges me instead of draining me.
But at college, unsurprisingly, that doesn’t really work. Everyone I know, including me, is exhausted. My friends need time alone to recharge, while I, on the other hand, just don’t want to be alone.
Another downside of college is the FOMO. I thought it was bad in high school, but somehow, it’s worse now. I constantly feel like I’m not going out every second of the weekend, I’m “wasting the college experience.” Obviously, I know that isn’t true, but it’s hard to accept that if I genuinely don’t want to go out, I don’t have to. Usually, though, I end up going just because everyone else is.
Recently, I’ve realized that maybe I enjoy constant company because I don’t like being alone with my thoughts. Just like when I was younger, my brain overwhelms me when there’s nothing or no one to distract it. The difference is that back then, I was afraid of ghosts, burglars, and anything dangerous. Now, what I worry about most is myself.
Especially with the changing seasons, everything starts to feel a little darker. And to be honest, I’ve been struggling. Don’t report me to the university or anything, but it’s been hard. Late at night when I’m alone, I start repeating those classic self-deprecating lies: all my friends hate me, I should hate myself, and so on.
But when I’m with people, those thoughts never surface. I’m trying to break the cycle, this time, without relying on others. I want to reach a point where I can be content alone.
Lately, I’ve been trying to keep my space organized and my bed made so it feels like a comfortable place to exist alone (apart from my roommate). I’ve also been giving myself things to do. Right now, I’m binging “The Walking Dead” (no spoilers, please, I’m only at the beginning of season three).
Slowly but surely, I think I’m getting better. I’ve started to enjoy spending time with myself. Sure, sometimes I wish I were out doing something more exciting, but as they say, progress isn’t linear.