As I was having a little discussion with my sister over text the other day, I was left a little jolted if I do say so myself. She has pointed out so bluntly (not in a bad way-maybe I needed this) that I changed over the past year and have become even more introverted than I was before. She kept telling how I no longer love to socialize (not that I did too much of that in the beginning anyway) and that it wouldn’t do me good to spend too much time alone (technically now with little bub). She was telling me how I still needed to get out there and meet new people and network, if not for my career then at least for my mental health. Then I sat down and pondered it all and thought meh, I still pretty much prefer solitude over anything else.
I am not going to deny that the year I spent in Jericho changed me, and perhaps not so much in a good way. I have always been an introvert and was quite anxious to be in the public most of the time but I made loads of efforts to tackle my dreams and accomplish a lot more than just your average trip to the grocery. My will was always much stronger than my anxiety and I was able to live (not just exist) and lead (being a leader was my favourite thing to do despite my fears). I was a lot more socially active than I am now. I made time to see my friends, to go to yoga alone and even have lunch by myself in the food court. After Palestine, I feel like a have lost a part of myself, the good part, the part that was carefree and happy and hopeful despite how many problems were there. So, solitude pretty much was my best friend in Palestine. I stopped trying to get out there and be vulnerable to the world; building concrete walls was the only thing I wanted to do. I felt lost and solitude was my only option. No one forced me to lose that art of myself, I guess I was the one that did so. So when does alone time become too much alone time?
I mean, alone time is prefect and comforting and I feel less anxious and less stressed about what I need to say or do but in the long run, how much good does it do? I feel like this is why I turned to writing blogs; I feel like I could still do things that I love but in a much more secure way (although the internet is much more brutal than the real world). When I am alone, I pretty much feel what Henry David Thoreau described so perfectly; I have never found a companion so companionable as solitude. As I am sitting writing this, I feel like maybe my sister was right and although I like spending time alone, it is probably not that good for me. My anxiety is getting worst and my career is kinda dying (no, motherhood has nothing to do with it!) and if I don’t get out of my bubble any time soon, then sayonara store front and hello solitude for the rest of my young adult life.
I have come to the conclusion that it is healthy to spend time with yourself but it is important to know when you’re going overboard, because then solitude turns into avoidance and then it turns into some kinda breakdown. My will is still intact but I guess it’s just dormant and being a mum has brought it back slowly because I want to do things and follow my dreams again; not just for me but for my little monster so that she can be inspired and be courageous just as I was before all the chaos that happened inside my head.