People often make the mistake of assuming that because I am alone, I am lonely.
Everyday I am surrounded by people. Conversations. Ambient noises. Phones ringing. When we have a class, it’s even more people.
Our cadre of instructors. The students themselves. Additional instructors. Support staff. The number of people practically doubles. More conversations. More noise. More mental stimulation.
By days end, I am exhausted. I drive home, often having a personal conversation on the phone, but if not, then in silence. I don’t even want music. Just quiet.
When the weeks end arrives, I am generally peopled out. I want to stay home where it is quiet and do my thing. It doesn’t bother me to be by myself — I like it. If I want to mix with other people, I can do so. I have a wonderful neighbor with whom I can spend time. I have co-workers who I can call on if I feel a desire to be social.
Those closest to me understand my 72-hour time limit. It’s not that I’m prickly, or a hermit. I just have a limit of “togetherness” before my nerves are jangly and I feel a smothering sensation and I get physically anxious. I have always relished my own quiet times and past events have lent themselves to the build-up of anxiety that now takes place.
When I am alone, it is usually by choice. I often find it indeed glorious to be . . . alone.