Why I Love Living Solo (Even When Everyone Assumes I'm Lonely)

Why I Love Living Solo (Even When Everyone Assumes I'm Lonely)

Let’s get something straight right away:
Living alone does not automatically mean being lonely.

Not everyone who enjoys solitude is broken, grieving, or in some kind of waiting room for life to begin.
I know — because I used to feel that way. I used to assume that being alone meant something was wrong.

But not anymore.

At this point in my life, I’m not sad. I’m not in limbo.
I don’t feel like I’m missing out on something.

If anything?
I love my life exactly the way it is — and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

But I also understand:
Not all women feel that way yet. For some, this season still feels like a loss.
So if that’s you? I see you too.

Today, I want to share my side of solo living — the side that isn’t about grief or loneliness or missing someone who used to fill the space.

These are the top 3 reasons I’ve come to love living alone:

1. My Energy Belongs to Me

I don’t wake up absorbing anyone else’s tension.
There’s no emotional guesswork the second I walk into a room.
I don’t have to adjust my mood or shrink to fit someone else’s vibe.

Instead, I stay in my own rhythm — which, honestly?
Is slow. Soft. Unbothered. And incredibly sacred.

My nervous system stays calm because no one’s pushing against it.
That kind of peace? It’s rare. And I’ve learned not to take it for granted.

2. I Don’t Have to Explain Myself

There’s no pressure to perform.
No justifying why I canceled plans last-minute, or why I spent an entire Saturday doing absolutely nothing.

If I change my mind, wear the same outfit three days in a row, or dance in the kitchen for no reason — no one’s watching.
No one’s commenting.
No one’s waiting on me to be more… consistent, or productive, or predictable.

This space is mine.
My rituals. My rhythm. My rules.

And for the first time in my life, that feels like freedom.

3. Healing Happens Easier Without Noise

When your body is tired and your heart is loud, even the smallest noise can feel like violence.
Living solo gave me silence — but not the scary kind. The sacred kind.

The kind of quiet that makes space for healing.
Where you don’t have to “bounce back.”
Where you can rest. Write. Stare at the ceiling if you need to. Cry if you need to. Say nothing at all.

That’s where my healing began:
Not in someone else’s arms.
Not in a busy calendar or a fresh start.
But in the quiet. In the space no one else could fill.

What I Know Now

No, I’m not lonely.
And I’m definitely not waiting for someone to come complete me.

I already feel whole.

But I haven’t always felt this way — and maybe you don’t either.
So if solitude feels heavy right now, if it still feels like something was taken from you… I get that.

Because the truth is:
Some women crave solitude the way I do.
Others are aching in it, like I used to.

Both are real. Both deserve to be heard.

Let’s Talk About It

Where are you right now? Are you thriving in the quiet — or still struggling with it?