I Like Being in My Head — It’s Quiet There
No expectations, no noise — just me, my thoughts, and the hum of my existence.
It’s not loneliness.
It’s not isolation.
It’s something better.
People talk about solitude like it’s a punishment.
“Go to your room.”
“Think about what you’ve done.”
“Why are you sitting alone?”
They fill every silence with chatter, every moment with distractions. But I don’t mind the quiet. I seek it.
The more time I spend with myself, the more I love myself.
It wasn’t always this way. There was a time when being alone felt wrong. Like I was missing out on something, like I should be somewhere else, with someone else, doing something loud and visible.
But when I started spending time with myself — honestly sitting with my thoughts — I realised something…
I’m good company.
There’s a lot to unpack when you sit with yourself. All the things you ignore in the noise come bubbling up. The doubts, the dreams, the memories that never quite fade.
At first, it’s uncomfortable. You reach for your phone, the TV remote, or anything to distract yourself from yourself. But if you can sit through the discomfort, you find something surprising.
You.
Not the version of you that performs for the world. Not the version that nods and smiles and makes small talk.
The real you.
The one with wild ideas and quiet fears, with untapped creativity and thoughts so deep they scare you.
And if you listen long enough, you start to understand yourself. And if you understand yourself, you might just start to like yourself.
That’s the beauty of solitude.
It forces you to meet the person you carry around every day but rarely acknowledge. And when you do, you might realise they’re not so bad. They’re funny. They’re smart. They have dreams and ideas and a heart that beats just for them.
The world teaches us to be social, to seek validation, to measure our worth by the presence of others.
But who’s counting? Who cares?
You are enough, even when no one is watching.
You are enough when it’s just you, sitting in a room, existing.
You are enough in the silence.
So if you’re afraid of being alone, try it.
Not in the way that makes you feel like you’re waiting for something else to happen. But in a way that lets you be fully present with yourself.
Take a walk without your headphones. Sit in a café with no book, no phone — just you.
Let your thoughts come and go like waves. Get to know the person behind your own eyes.
Because once you do, you might find that solitude isn’t empty.
It’s full.
Full of you.
And that’s a pretty wonderful thing.
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P.S. If you enjoyed this brief missive about solitude, I invite you to subscribe here, where I share insights, case studies, and musings on business and beyond. As always, thanks for your attention and for being part of my journey.
