When I tell people I need time alone, their reactions range from confusion to concern. “Are you okay?” they ask, or worse, “Did I do something wrong?”
No, you didn’t do anything wrong. And yes, I’m okay. I just need to recharge. Being around people—no matter how much I care about them—is like running a marathon on low battery. If I don’t step away, I risk a total shutdown.
The other day, I was sitting on my couch, the afternoon sunlight streaming through the window, turning the dust motes into tiny golden specks. My phone buzzed with messages from friends: “Want to meet for lunch?” “Game night at my place tonight!”
I stared at the screen, torn. I love my friends, but the thought of socializing felt like climbing a mountain barefoot. Instead, I put my phone on silent, made a cup of tea, and curled up with a book. The quiet hum of the refrigerator was the only sound in the room, and for the first time that day, my shoulders relaxed.
Why I Crave Solitude
- Sensory Recovery: After hours of navigating a world that’s too loud, too bright, and too crowded, being alone feels like stepping into a warm bath.
- Emotional Clarity: Solitude gives me space to untangle my thoughts and process my feelings without outside pressure.
- Energy Management: Socializing—even with people I adore—takes a lot of energy. Time alone helps me recharge so I can show up fully when it matters.
It’s Not About You
Here’s what I wish people knew: my need for solitude isn’t a reflection of how I feel about them. It’s not about avoiding others; it’s about taking care of myself.
When I spend time alone, I’m able to come back to my relationships more present, more engaged, and more authentically me.
A Memory of Alone Time Gone Wrong
I once agreed to spend an entire weekend with a group of friends in a rented cabin. By Saturday afternoon, my sensory limits were frayed, and my social battery was dead. But instead of stepping away, I pushed through, afraid of seeming rude.
By Sunday morning, I was irritable, withdrawn, and on the verge of tears. My friends noticed and asked if I was okay. I mumbled something about being tired, but the truth was, I had ignored my need for solitude, and it had caught up with me.
The Difference Between Loneliness and Solitude
- Loneliness feels like an ache, a hollow space where connection should be.
- Solitude feels like a refuge, a chance to breathe, reflect, and just be.
For autistic people like me, solitude isn’t just a preference—it’s a lifeline.
How I Make Time for Solitude (Continued)
- Create a Sanctuary: My room is my safe space, filled with soft lighting, favorite books, and a cozy blanket. The door stays closed, not as a rejection of the outside world, but as a reminder to myself: this is where you rest.
- Communicate Honestly: I’ve learned to tell friends, “I need a little downtime today, but let’s catch up soon.” Most people understand, especially once they see that I show up more fully after recharging.
Solitude Is My Reset Button
One evening last month, I was sitting in my room after a particularly draining week at work. The blinds were half-closed, letting in just enough moonlight to give the room a soft, silvery glow. The faint hum of my fan filled the silence, and I sat cross-legged on the floor, my weighted blanket draped over my shoulders like a cape.
In that moment, I wasn’t avoiding anyone or running from anything. I was simply reconnecting with myself, letting my thoughts wander and my body rest. It felt like exhaling after holding my breath all day.
What I Wish People Knew
- Solitude Is Strengthening: Time alone isn’t a sign of weakness—it’s how I recharge so I can face the world.
- It’s Not Personal: My need for solitude doesn’t mean I love my friends or family any less.
- Connection Is Better After Rest: When I honor my need for space, I can show up more authentically and meaningfully.
Quotes That Resonate
- “Loneliness expresses the pain of being alone, and solitude expresses the glory of being alone.” —Paul Tillich
- “The quieter you become, the more you are able to hear.” —Rumi
FAQ
Q: How can I support someone who needs a lot of alone time?
A: Respect their boundaries and understand that it’s not about you. Give them the space they need, and they’ll come back recharged.
Q: Isn’t too much alone time unhealthy?
A: For some, maybe—but for autistic individuals, solitude is often as essential as sleep or food. It’s how we manage sensory overload and emotional exhaustion.
Q: How do you balance solitude with relationships?
A: By communicating honestly about my needs and setting aside quality time for the people I care about.
Final Thoughts
Solitude isn’t loneliness. It’s not avoidance or isolation. For me, it’s a vital part of living in harmony with my mind, body, and the overwhelming world around me.
If you’re someone who needs time alone, know this: you’re not broken, selfish, or strange. You’re honoring a part of yourself that deserves care and attention.
And if you need me, you’ll find me here—wrapped in my blanket, basking in the quiet, and recharging for whatever comes next.
