The Quiet Pull of Solitude

When being alone feels like coming home

The ocean is calling and I must go

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Dear friend

How are you feeling today? I hope all is well and you’re easing yourself into the new year with no stress or relentless ‘to-do’ lists. I’m a little discombobulated. My inner critic is nattering on about the fact I should be getting back to work, answering emails and finalising my end of year elf-assessment - oh yawn! When all I really want to do is escape to a beach house, take the dogs, my journal and a pile of my Christmas books. Anyone else craving some solitude in the new year?

You know that feeling when everyone’s rushing around, making plans, filling their diaries and you’re just… not? The thought of an empty house, a warm drink, roaring fire and absolute silence, feels much more appealing than the pressure to show up with 2025 all worked out.

I’ve been sitting with this thought lately, this deep craving for solitude that seems to intensify as the world gets louder with goal setting and new year resolutions plastered all over social media. And I’m wondering - am I the only one who feels this magic pull toward alone time, especially during this time of year when we’re all supposed to be hunkering down together.

Here’s the thing, I’m never bored when I’m alone. Never. The quietness doesn’t feel empty, if anything, it feels full. Full of possibility, full of peace, full of… alonement. Yes ‘alonement’ is a word and it keeps resurfacing in my mind, and I think I’m finally understanding why.

"Your capacity for alonement is not a wall that keeps others out, but a sanctuary that keeps your truth safe and whole."

You see, life has taught me about solitude in ways I never expected. Two divorces by the age of forty. Learning to mother my boys from a distance. Watching them grow in 50% fragments since they were just three years old. Now at 20 and 14, they’ve grown into their own lives, fine young gentlemen and I’ve grown into this space of solitude that somehow feels more like home than any crowed room ever could.

Maybe it’s about control. When you’ve had your heart split open by divorce, when you’ve had to master the art of compartmentalisation just to make it through another goodbye on handover day, you learn to find safety in the spaces you can control. And what’s more controllable than a quiet room with just your own breathing to keep time?

I’ve become fascinated by my complete comfort in solitude. The way I don’t feel FOMO that seems to plague others. The way I can spend hours, days even, in my own company without feeling that restless itch for interaction that society tells us we should feel.

Is it a coping mechanism? Perhaps. Perhaps it stems from those early days of sharing my children, of living in a home that was suddenly too quiet every other week - that’s what changed me. I had two choices: break under the weight of that silence or learn to find peace in it. I chose peace. Or maybe peace chose me. Some of you might see this love of solitude as a wall I’ve built, a defence mechanism against potential future hurt. But it doesn’t feel like that from the inside. It feels like wisdom. Like I’ve finally understood that being alone doesn’t mean being lonely, that solitude can be a choice rather than a circumstance, even when in a long term relationship.

As I sit here writing this newsletter, I wonder about others like me. The ones who find themselves breathing easier when they close their door to the world. The ones who’ve learned to dance with their own shadows and find beauty in the quiet. Are we hiding, or have we simply found a different way of being whole?

I guess there is strength in admitting this, in standing firmly in your love for solitude when the world seems to champion constant connection. It’s not about being antisocial, grumpy or withdrawn -it’s about standing strong with what brings you peace, what makes you feel most at ease, and most authentically yourself.

So here I am, sharing my truth about solitude, about finding comfort in the very spaces that once terrified me. The heartbreaking moments I had to wave my children goodbye, close the door, and sit with my pain, that is an emotion I never want to experience ever again. I so wish journalling had found me back then. When I needed it the most! I know I’d have written about my fears, but also about how I could turn life’s forced lessons in being alone into a chosen path of peace.

Are you out there too? Do you feel this pull toward quiet spaces? This comfort in your own company that others might not understand? Maybe we’re not alone in our love of being alone. Maybe being in solitude is the safest place we’ll ever get to. And maybe that’s exactly as it should be.

Obviously I’ll keep on reflecting over my craving for solitude, it seems easier to digest when I’m out walking the dogs. As I like to call it, my emotions in motion. In the meantime, I’ve curated a few journalling prompts to accompany my writing, please help yourself if you’re in the journalling mood.

1. Think about your most peaceful moment of solitude. Describe the setting, the sounds, the feelings in your body and the thoughts in your mind. What made this moment feel so complete despite, or perhaps because of being alone?

2. Imagine solitude as a physical space in your home. What would this space look this? What objects would you find there? Which books would be piled up by your bed? What would be desperately missing? Write about how this space nurtures rather than isolates you.

3. Recall a recent situation where you chose solitude over social interaction. Write about what your body was telling you in that moment. How did it feel to honour that need?

4. Explore a memory of a time when solitude felt uncomfortable or forced. Now write about how your relationship with being alone has evolved. What lessons has solitude taught you about strength, resilience and self-sufficiency?

5. Think about the differences between loneliness and solitude in your life. Write about a time when you felt deeply lonely, then write about a time when you felt peacefully alone. What distinguishes these experiences for you?

There is no rush to answer all of the above prompts. I advise you take at least five minutes per prompt, just let your thoughts unfold naturally and let the pen do the work.

As I’m slightly obsessive with craving alone time, over the past few months I’ve dipped in and out of a few books that explore solitude from different angles, you might find one of them of interest…

“Quiet - The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking” by Susan Cain

“Solitude - In Pursuit of a Singular Life in a Crowded World” by Michael Harris

“Digital Minimalism - Choosing a Focused Life in a Noisy World” by Cal Newport

“How To Be Alone” by Sara Maitland

“Party of One - The Loners’ Manifesto” by Anneli Rufus

“Stillness is the Key” by Ryan Holiday

“Alonement” by Francesca Specter

About me… I’m Tanya Lynch, a mother, a ridgeback owner and the founder of Ease Retreats. I love what I do, collaborating with authors and creatives, hosting retreats in beautiful venues across the UK. Most recently I launched The Bibliotherapists podcast with my co-host Toni Jones. I’m also a therapeutic journalling coach and through my programme ‘Rage on a Page’, I help midlife women channel their emotions into something more positive and creative in less than 60 days. Each Thursday I host an online journaling club ‘Journal with Ease’ and it’s free for paid subscribers to attend. If you have any questions about the benefits of therapeutic journalling, please reach out and connect. I’m usually on a beach walking the dogs, hosting retreats or writing in my journal or on Substack.