Sundays from the Porch
Solitude vs Loneliness
These last few weeks have been rough in that very specific “life is happening but nothing’s happening” way. I’ve been recovering from the flu and dealing with the less glamorous side of creative entrepreneurship: trying to find clients, pitching, waiting, refreshing my inbox. It’s been a lot of me with myself.
And honestly? I’ve been feeling really alone.
There’s a thin line between solitude and loneliness. Not metaphorically. Literally. One day being by myself feels clean and spacious, like a reset. The next day it feels tight and echoey. It’s wild how the same conditions can land so differently depending on where my head is.
Ireland always does this to me around the six-week mark. The novelty burns off. I’ve seen everyone, been everywhere, had the pints, done the drives. And then it quiets down. Too much. Suddenly, the only thing left to do is work. So I work. I write. I design. I ideate. I create. Last weekend, I rebuilt my entire studio site from scratch because there was literally nothing else demanding my attention. No one to meet. Nothing left to drink. Just me trying to stay busy so the quiet doesn’t swallow me.
And yet I keep reminding myself: solitude is okay. This is where I make my best stuff. This strange little pocket at the end of the year. Right before the world sprints into the “New Year, New You” frenzy. It’s the last clean window I’ll get. A moment to tie up the threads I’ve been saving, and maybe even make some new connections, before everything speeds up again.
I guess I’m just in that in-between place where being alone is both the gift and the ache. Where I can feel loneliness in my chest and clarity in my hands at the same time. Where I’m trying to trust that this quiet stretch isn’t punishment. It’s preparation.