I love that I’m an extrovert. It feels confident and cool. It's not something that I have to “try” to be, gravitating toward social interaction has always come naturally. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been the type of person who is energized by connection with those around me. Not just that, being around other people gives me a sense of security. If I’m honest, I haven’t always felt as comfortable with being alone. And because of this, for a long time, I’ve centered my identity around busyness, projects, and activity. In part, because those things fuel me but also because they'd make me feel less alone.
The last few years have turned this totally upside down. A year after giving birth to our miracle baby – an effort I had obsessed over for the five years leading up to her arrival – I went directly from a season of post-partum seclusion into a season of pandemic isolation. I was quite literally forced into stillness and solitude. A place that was especially uncomfortable for me, on top of the looming anxiety and shared trauma that we are all navigating. Yet in doing this, over time, I discovered that there is a “magic” in “me time” that I had not fully experienced until then.
Solitude, when we choose it with intention, is a space for divine connection, self-discovery, and creativity. My quiet time has become my therapy, my sanctuary, and my blank canvas. On the other hand, I’m keenly aware that when we’re not intentional about our alone time, solitude can sour into loneliness. And loneliness is a type of separation – whether actual or perceived – that will wreak havoc on our mental and emotional health in ways that are not easily undone.
Let’s explore how to find the magic in our “me time” by practicing it with intention.
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