Wanting To Be Alone Can Lead To Loneliness.

After leading my Galentine's Yin class— my intimate crew of women breathing together, softening together, laughing together— I got on a plane.

The class was small but beautiful.

Sisterhood themed, slow poses, shared energy. The kind of event where women lingered instead of rushing out.

And yet, later that day, I boarded a flight thinking what I needed was space.

Quiet, alone time, a break.

Because lately I've been talking about breaks with my husband mostly. About how we need to take a pause before it's too late and we break down. About how stress accumulates quietly until the body forces rest upon us.

So I thought I was doing the right thing.

But something unexpected happened.

The Break wasn't isolation.

Instead of retreating inward, I made plans. Then, I found myself sitting across from people I hadn't seen in a long time but had met them for the first time at our last meeting.

I had longed to see them.

No agenda, no productivity, no networking, or fixing. Just sitting, listening. Letting conversations stretch without rushing them to a point.

And I noticed something. My body felt different. Softer and calmer. More regulated than it had in weeks. I thought I needed to be alone but what I really needed was connection.

Then my husband made plans with another couple we hadn't seen in a while. Again, the connection restored me.

I could also see my husband's body relax and let go. His shoulders soften.

We Confuse Rest With Withdrawal.

When we're overwhelmed, our instinct is often to pull back.

To cancel plans. Avoid interaction.To hide under a blanket and call it selfcare.

And sometimes that's exactly what we need.

But sometimes?

Sometimes we don't need isolation.

We need safe connection, Eye contact, shared laughter. Someone saying "me too." Someone remembering who we were before we got tired.

Especially in midlife— I was going to say women in midlife but I truly believe that men are having this feeling as well— when we are the capable ones, the responsible ones, the ones who hold everything together. We convince ourselves we are fine alone.

We pride ourselves on independence but the nervous system is wired for co-regulation. Being near our safe people is medicine.

So, the yin class wasn't just yoga.

When I think back to the class, I realize it wasn't about the poses or the sisterhood themed story I read.

It was about women/people being in the same room. Shared softness. The laghter between the poses. The staying instead of rushing home.

It was the nervous system repair we didn't know we needed.

So when I boarded that plane thinking I needed solitude— I discovered that what I really needed was more of that same energy, just in a different setting.

The Strong Women Myth.

There's this quiet narrative we've absorbed.

If you're strong, you don't need anyone.

If you're overwhelmed, handle it quietly.

If you're tired, rest alone.

But strength isn't isolation. Strength is knowing when your body needs support. And sometimes that looks like:

• sitting at a kitchen table for hours.
• Talking about nothing important.
• Being seen without performing.
• Letting someone else carry the emotional weight for a minute.

That kind of connection doesn't drain you. It restores you.

So, maybe you (or I) don't need to be alone. Maybe you don't need to cancel everything. Maybe you don't need a solo retreat.

Maybe you need one dinner with you safe person/people. One long conversation. One room where you can exhale.

We talk about taking breaks, but breaks don't always mean distance. Sometimes the real break is remembering you're not meant to do this life alone.

Question for you-

When you're exhausted, do you withdraw automatically?... Or do you pause long enough to ask your body what it truly needs?

Solitude can heal. But so can sisterhood.

So can community/

So can connection. So can being witnessed.

And sometimes the most restoring thing you can do...

is sit at a table with someone who reminds you who you are.