Lessons in isolation; the gift and the curse of absolute solitude
I always considered myself to be a little more introverted than I was extroverted. I lived alone in a studio in London during my second university year, which I enjoyed. It always felt good coming back to some peace and quiet in my own space. In my third year, lockdown hit, and suddenly I was trapped in a shoebox with minimal social interaction. It drove me insane and I didn’t know what this meant. I felt antsy, confused and terribly lonely. There was nothing more that I wanted than to be home with my family who were on the other end of the globe.
But it dawned on me that perhaps I got myself into this situation. And maybe that was a big part of my frustration; that this was a choice. I looked back on my pre-Covid university experience and realised there was so much more I could have done. I could have made more friends, gone on more dates and explored London further. However, at the time, I was dealing with my own issues and, for the most part, desperately wanted to be alone. I had a habit of isolating myself because of my preconceived limitations. I now had exactly that, and it was a harsh reality.
It feels like I’m being forced to binge on an unhealthy habit to the point of no return. I can see myself now having to face the many insecurities I had tried to drown out. I’ve been forced to reevaluate my life, to weed out the self-sabotaging ways that controlled me pre-Covid. At present, I feel ready to dive headfirst into everything I underappreciated or didn’t think I deserved before. I’m not sure if that will change when that time comes, but I’m hoping that by having to clear out the clutter in my head and home, I can make space for what I truly want to welcome next.
