“Get your nose out of that book and go outside and play! You need some fresh air,” my mother would say.
I’d go begrudgingly, where I’d sit in the front yard and pet the cat. And steal glances at the neighbor boy playing basketball in his driveway. I had friends. But I liked my books, and our pets, better. Fast forward 40 years.
“When are you going to get a man friend? How can you stand being alone all the time?”
“Mom, I’ve always liked being alone. I always liked my books and the cats better than people. Remember?”
“Well then you’ve found your level.”
I’ve found my level? She said it not unkindly. But it had me pondering, as I’ve done for decades, whether there is something wrong with “my level.” What my mom was really saying is that I’m living in a way that suits me. And mom is right. Even so, for years I’ve struggled against my introverted nature. I’ve forced myself to go to parties when I wanted to stay home. I’ve made myself join groups and get “0ut there.” I’m not shy. Or socially awkward. In fact, when I do join, I can be the life of the party. Particularly if the party is no more than a dozen people. But I am more content when I’m alone. Like right now. Sitting on my sofa, writing, and gazing out the window between sentences, watching the birds in the feeders.
(Birding Tip of the Day: If your finch feeders have been devoid of activity despite being full, dump them out and replace with fresh nyjer. Finches are most particular and will not eat stale seed.)
Lately, I’ve given myself permission to spend more time on my own. The recent deaths in my family have freed me to embrace introversion. (I wonder how much time can pass before you stop calling them recent.) I no longer have to wait to be stricken with the flu to hibernate. I have an excuse that is always valid. My friends understand. I’m grieving. As time passes, they’ll think I need to get out more; rejoin the living. And then I’ll have to make a choice: either do things I don’t really want to do (for my own good, of course), make the usual excuses (work or illness), or declare and publicly embrace my true nature. But should I embrace introversion? Is it entirely healthy to spend long stretches of time alone, in the company of cats and nature; books and writing?
I’m at long last coming to the realization introversion is given a bad rap in this culture, much as aging is viewed as weakness. I would truly love to find the inner strength to embrace both. I can picture it perfectly: living quietly near the ocean, lounging about in yoga pants and long flowy skirts, letting my hair grow out into its natural color (much gray) and not obsessing over my changing shape (the extra bits having migrated from my hips and thighs upward to my midsection). I can imagine delighting in the solitude, spending my days writing, walking on the beach, and watching the dogs play in the surf and the pelicans flying overhead.
I think I just planned my retirement.
See, Mom, I am enjoying the fresh air. Just not with people.
unConfirmed Bachelorette 
Hm, seems somebody has had a camera in my life – any connections to a three-letter-organization?
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Ha! I think lots of us here on WP would qualify as introverts. We’re just special that way.
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I am not even thinking of myself as an introvert – I do express myself firmly and loudly – at times. But some of your description just fit me like my own skin.
Yes, I am spending a lot of time alone – and I am not unhappy for that. I do not and did never like places like dance clubs or big parties – I prefer to sit down with a few handchosen friends. Sometimes I vent my anger, at other times I just turn my back on it Not your classical introvert, though, as at times I do draw attention to myself, for fun mostly. Funny remarks in public. I go out to meet strangers, like in weekend courses – then again I always feel disconnected to them. Kind of “left out”. I do not think I am really an introvert. Is there really only black and white on this?
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Sounds like a wonderful retirement!
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It sure does! Hopefully I’ll be writing about it right here on WP.
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It’s not about quantity…it’s about quality
I have a very small number of friends but they are quality and I prefer to be by myself more than anything. It’s your life how you live it is yours and only yours
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Quality is right on, Gert. Quality friends and quality time. And now for some song lyrics: “It’s my life and I’ll do what I want.”
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Some people never develop the skill of stillness. They can’t quiet. So those miss a great deal of what’s going on around them. It’s a real strength…that worries the “busy ones” as they can’t do it and worry you can…and worry what’s going on there – they can’t guess?
You do seem to have a balance. Nice.
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It does worry the busy ones. Such a great observation. Right now I hear the trickle of the fountain in the garden, birds, and the purring cat. Stillness. Ahhhhhhh.
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Mom always tells us to enjoy our “uniqueness”. We’re not sure what it means, but she tells us that we are very different from each other and we need to celebrate that. Mom says that nobody else can be YOU so doing what makes you happy and peaceful is the best thing. Thanks for sharing your special thoughts.
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Thank you for passing on your mom’s wisdom, kitties. I wish I could give you some of our Greenies. 🙂
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I like my alone time too, never bored, always something to do. You just stay as you are.. 🙂
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Thank you. It sometimes concerns me how content I am alone. Oh no! I’m content! Maybe I should find a new man. That’ll fix it. 😉
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I’ve always been a bit of a loner..Like you, I enjoy those quiet moments alone. More people need to slow down to reflect and get “quiet” for a while.
I’d say you have a great life plan going on there !
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Thank you, Lynne. It has evolved quite a bit over the past couple of years. I imagine sifting through sand for treasure. I think I’ve found some.
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You say a lot here. We’ve tried to reply but cannot come up with anything as eloquent as you’ve stated here. We are realizing that we TREASURE our alone time now. We are glad you are, too, xo LMA
p.s. we actually came here to thank you again for allowing us to retire a few days earlier. We were all ready to press “submit” for purchase of a new spring bag, valued at $220, not including shipping. We thought of you and closed the page, No regrets. Many thanks! LMA
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I am so happy to hear your days of leisure will arrive a bit sooner because of something I wrote. Each time, the effort it takes to pass lessens, and the real prize becomes easier to envision.
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