I was challenged by members of a old writing group I was part of, to write something about solitude.
This is what I came up with:
Some people see solitude as something to be feared or ridiculed. As if you need to be with someone else for things to be enjoyable.
I’ve found that the opposite can be true, that having to accomodate somebody else’s needs to detract from my enjoyment. I like the freedom of just deciding to go somewhere and not having to worry that my companions will not want to do certain things.
For example my recent solo trip to Castleton and Barbon, inspired by my need to research the area further for my work in progress, might never have taken place if I was too nervous about being on my own.
I would have missed out on the peaceful scenery of Barbon Fell, the burbling river running alongside Barbon Manor’s land. The sight of Barbon Church’s bricks rising up against a periwinkle sky.
I don’t like the idea of missing out on things, waiting for others to agree to come and see things that I find interesting.
Maybe it’s a offshoot of being the odd one out in my family when I was growing up. My siblings are both sporty extroverts fond of socialising with people of their own age, gathering solid networks of friends to them, during high school, some of which remain to this day.
I was the nervous, introverted writer content to spend hours in my own company, creating fictional worlds that seemed far more pleasant than the one that I inhabited.