I used to clean my room to the sound of Emma Chamberlain’s podcast, Anything Goes. My favorite episodes centered on ideas like the reality of hitting rock bottom, navigating growing pains, and the necessity of having obstacles in our lives to overcome. My favorite episode, however, differs from the rest and over time, has stitched itself into the fabric of my life.
The title of the episode matches this article’s title, “Alone, But Not Lonely.” At fifteen, this idea felt counterintuitive. I’d spend weeknights painting at my desk, listening to albums from start to finish, or checking movies off my to‑be‑watched list. I’d do all of these things and more entirely by myself, and happily so, but still recognize the feeling of being alone. How is time spent alone not even just a bit lonely?
As I enter my twenties, I feel different. I see alone time as a space I get to curate, not something that happens to me. It’s where I process the noise of the world, where I learn what actually matters to me, and where I realize that solitude isn’t a punishment — it’s a practice.
As I reflect on these past months of my life, I’m able to recognize learning curves and feelings of uncertainty, but hold pride at the forefront of my emotions — something I feel we lack in accrediting ourselves most of the time.
I’m proud of myself for starting to understand the significance of self‑worth, for embracing unfamiliar environments with a hopeful perspective, and for allowing myself to remain open to new mistakes, lessons, and all that lies in between.
Above all, I find immense pride in all the time I spent alone. Whether I realize it or not, every minute spent alone is more time spent getting to know the most important person in my life: myself. And if that’s what solitude offers — clarity, grounding, and a growing sense of who I am becoming — then being alone has never felt less lonely.