People often make the mistake of assuming that because I am alone, I am lonely.

Not.

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.