I’ve always been an open book… the “outgoing” one, the “loud” one, the “expressive” one. I’ve worn those labels proudly. But this past year, and likely the six months ahead, have challenged that identity in ways I didn’t see coming.

Since leaving my job to focus on my writing and myself, my world has physically shrunk. I expected the changes in my calendar, my wardrobe, and even my social circle. What I didn’t expect was how much the silence would force me to evaluate who I am when no one is watching.

Even with a dog attached to my hip and a husband working from home, the mental space of my day is mine alone. At first, I felt nothing… a strange emotional numbness. But now, a year in, the feelings have arrived. Instead of judging this solitude as “loneliness” or fearing the social rustiness that comes with it, I’m learning to lean in. Through meditation, breathwork, intention and sensory grounding, I am transforming the fear of being alone into a tool for growth.

A Lesson for Parents and Educators

This journey has changed how I view the children in our care. We often worry about the child who chooses to be alone, labeling the behavior as “concerning” or “suspicious.”

But perhaps that child is the wisest one in the room.

When a child seeks solitude, they are often deeply in tune with their own needs and emotions. If we provide them with the right strategies and tools to regulate and check in, we should trust their instinct to retreat. Solitude isn’t a red flag; it’s a skill. By learning to be alone, they aren’t withdrawing from the world, they are simply getting to know themselves.