On Being Alone
I turned 21 this week.
It was a sweet day as the first warm one DC had in a week or so. There was a slight breeze, and the daffodils seemed to make a second debut after a cold snap a few days prior. It was my version of ideal birthday conditions.
I chose to celebrate by going out on a reflective solo brunch. I did not feel hesitant in my plans for a single celebration at all, but I could not help but notice how I felt hyper-aware of other people’s thoughts of me.
“Why is that girl eating alone?”
“Is she sad?”
“It’s so unfortunate she’s celebrating her birthday by herself.”
As I was ordering my meal and journaling about my gratitude for another year of life, my mind was also preoccupied with other folk’s nonexistent opinions of me. I was wondering if their perception of me was tainted by the irrefutable fact that I was alone. But that was not the case.
The compassionate ladies across from my table sent over a mimosa to join me in celebrating, the couple to my left even tried to pay for my meal (which had generously been covered by my best friend).
Enjoying some time on my own was a highlight of my birthday, but the margin it gave me to interact with others, and my increased awareness of the world around me made those moments even more special.
Spending time with ourselves can often have negative connotations for others and ourselves. As a society, we have often equated being alone (especially when dining) to not having a gleaming social life. As if the amount of time we spend by ourselves is a direct correlation to the quality and quantity of our interactions with others.
This could not be further from the truth. I love my family and friends, and I felt especially loved and celebrated by them on my birthday, but setting aside time to celebrate alone was one of the best gifts I could have given myself.
Being alone gave me the freedom to engage with those around me, who I otherwise would not have if I was with a group of people. This idea made me question how often I miss potentially meaningful conversations with strangers because of the initial discomfort of being alone. Though there is no use in worrying about those missed conversations, there is use in actively pursuing them in the future.
This time by myself also contributed to my heightened awareness of the day. The weather, the feeling of the wind on my skirt, hearing the faint clatter of silverware, the significance of these experiences would have been inconsequential background noise to whatever would have been going on around me. Being alone provided a greater capacity for me to appreciate those seemingly mundane occurrences.
Though celebrating my birthday with my favorite people is something I look forward to every year, the shimmery newness of 21 is what I most look forward to. I look forward to pushing myself to experience more on my own and enjoying all of the simple things along the way. Being alone just might be my favorite gift thus far.
