I never liked my own company much. Spending time alone was an unfortunate last resort; something I did when there was absolutely no other option. Even then, I usually just slept that time away rather than hang out with myself. Furthermore, I detested being home. When I was younger I thought everyone was doing something better than me; that I was left out or lame if faced with nothing to do/nowhere to go. When I was a tween/teenager, I rode my bike around town or hung out in parks until company arrived. It got me out of the house, at least. I only felt at ease when it poured rain, when my friends had family functions, or were away. I didn’t have to worry about what they were doing, and why I wasn’t included.
Once I got my license, I drove around killing time, looking for something to do or somewhere to go, even traveling an hour to get some coffee rather than sit at home. Once I turned 21, I hung out in bars. Destroying my liver in the midst of company was certainly better than being alone on a Saturday night feeling pathetic and wrestling with my own thoughts.
Looking back on my life, I was almost always out, almost always with someone, always had a boyfriend, always going, always doing. If I didn’t know better I would say I was popular and had a blast. The truth is, I was desperate and clingy and insecure. I often found myself in trouble and had a lot of anxiety. I never said no to anything, afraid that passing up offers jeopardized future invites. I realize now what was really going on. I was afraid — afraid of abandonment and exclusion; afraid of missing out; afraid of being home where life was unpredictable and stressful; afraid of being alone with someone I didn’t like, that person being me.
I was really pretty pathetic to an embarrassing degree. I would have been much better off had I just relied on the company of my books.
With maturity I learned I wasn’t missing out on anything. When you hang out with the same people in the same places, things become fairly predictable and routine. With confidence came the ability to say no without thinking it would hurt me in some way. With self-love has come the capacity to actually enjoy my own company.
I only realized this past weekend that I am beginning to like me. I was on a date at the time.
The date started late Friday morning with a drive to my favorite beach listening to music with the windows down and sunroof open. We swam, we read, we relaxed in the sun, taking in the sounds and scents. Then I got hungry so we headed out for a late lunch. I thought something simple would suffice but then I spotted a Greek restaurant that had a lovely lunch and wine menu and outdoor seating so we didn’t feel under dressed in our beach clothes. We started with wine imported from Greece, hummus and the best pita bread I ever tasted in my life. It was warm and fragrant and tasted citrusy, yet earthy and salty. For the main course we enjoyed a feta and watermelon salad.
Once we finished eating, I sat back, sighed, and brought a smile to my lips. I was inebriated on good wine and food and a fun day in the sun. I looked out over the ocean and felt happy… content. I was having a wonderful time. I took out my book and picked up where I left off while I finished my wine. My date didn’t mind. My date was me.
After my lunch I read in the pool for hours until my husband arrived. Shortly, our good friend would arrive for the weekend, too. The guys had plans and although I love hanging out with them and was welcome, I had plans of my own to go full moon kayaking on a guided tour.
Sitting in my kayak later that night in the inky black water beneath a blanket of stars I was fully aware of how content I felt. I have been vacationing with friends every summer for many years and never have I gone off and done anything on my own. In fact, I often struggled to entertain myself waiting for them to wake up in the mornings. I confess I even stayed up past the point of exhaustion at times just so I wouldn’t miss a laugh. Here I was happily doing something I was excited about and looked forward to. Many times in my life I forfeited things I wanted to do in favor of what others wanted so I could be with the group. But finally, there were no more stories in my head. I didn’t assume the guys were having a better time without me. I didn’t think I was missing out. I definitely wasn’t. I was kayaking through unspoiled marshlands in water so smooth it reflected an unblemished moon with the only audible sound being that of the crickets. I was perfectly happy being out there alone.
I found myself with the opportunity to enjoy some solitary time the following two days. I read, I swam, I floated. I had no resentments, no insecurities, no anxieties, no fears. It was a wonderful weekend and we all had a great time doing all the things we wanted. I even took a lovely walk while waiting for the guys to wake up.
See the photo below? I always called this sandbar that appears during low tide in our favorite secret spot Lonely Island. My friend snapped this photo of me alone reading on Lonely Island.
Only I wasn’t at all lonely.
I really enjoyed this post, Jessica. Enjoying our own company is sometimes the best thing to do.
Great post! I think we all go through that phase where we're convinced we're missing out on something. Take it from someone who, at age 21, moved 500 miles from his best friends. Then, a few years later, 3000 miles away. So many nights I wondered what they were doing without me. Can't tell you how thrilled I was to finally, years later, realize I was the one having all the fun.
The ability to enjoy your own company is a skill I've always been blessed with. I'm glad your acquiring it too. 🙂
Reading this makes me happy, Jess. I am glad you're feeling this way. This journey is remarkable and brave. Thank you for sharing this with us… me.
Thank you, everyone, for your lovely comments!