Today is my birthday. I’m not a big fan, not because I mind getting older so much as I’m just not a celebratory person. But a dear friend of mine once said she feels like it’s worthwhile to acknowledge her birthday with gratitude, because she knows enough people who haven’t made it this far. And, unfortunately, I know enough people who never made it this far, too.
In lieu of a celebration, I’m writing this.
I’m not good at very many things. But I am good at being alone.
Part of it is just how I’m built, I think. I have trouble initiating contact with other people, with communication that feels mutually understood, and thus with building connections. If you’re not built like me, I’m sure it’s more difficult, but I’m going to impart some lessons anyway.
Part of being alone are the standard things you’ll find in a self-help book or hear from a therapist — find hobbies and interests, don’t compare yourself to others, live in a way that works for you (not how society tells you to live), don’t diminish yourself to accommodate others. You’ll find when you do these things that some people might not fit in your life, and sometimes you just have to let them go.
Another part of being alone is accepting that you are never the most important person in anyone else’s…
