Why I Prefer Solitude Over Socialising (And That’s OK)

From Hot Mess to Hermit Queen

Once upon a cocktail-soaked, chaos-fuelled time, I was the unofficial party planner of my friend group. Think five nights out a week, three hours of sleep, and a social calendar tighter than my corset on a Friday night. I said yes to everything. Every invite, every brunch, every “quick drink” that turned into karaoke at 2am. Was I thriving? Technically. Was I exhausted and spiritually dehydrated? Absolutely.

Fast forward to now: I flinch when someone suggests leaving the house after 7pm. My phone lives on Do Not Disturb. I treat my blank calendar like a sacred text. These days, I’ll catch up with my girls over tea, maybe get lured out by my ex-boyfriend-turned-bestie for dinner if he bribes me with salt and pepper squid. But mostly? It’s me, Lulu, and a fortress of snacks and serenity.

As an Executive Assistant, I spend my days soothing corporate egos, translating cryptic emails, and performing emotional triage with a frozen smile. So when I get home? No, I will not be joining your quiz night. I want to lie horizontally, breathe like a dragon, and not explain myself to anyone. If you wouldn’t donate a kidney for me, I’m not giving you my Thursday evening.

Solitude Is Not a Sad Montage

Let’s make one thing clear. Choosing solitude does not mean I’m one emotional breakdown away from adopting twelve cats and whispering to spoons. It means I’ve found peace in being left alone. I don’t need constant noise, I don’t need a group chat buzzing like an electric fence. I need space, silence, and Lulu screaming at ghosts.

My ex-husband hated that. He thought my need for quiet meant I hated him. (Spoiler: I did. He was a damp rice cracker of a man. Boring, tedious, and allergic to joy.) But it took me years to realise needing space doesn’t mean something is wrong with you. It usually means something is finally right.

Now I wake up slow, stretch dramatically like a Disney villain, and make my matcha in peace. No one asking questions. No one breathing near me. Just me, thriving in my goblin cave of calm.

Instagram Lied to You

Modern life worships chaos. If you’re not booked, busy, and bathing in filtered social approval, are you even trying? But guess what: saying no is not just sexy, it’s spiritual. I’ve started treating “no” like skincare. Protective. Soothing. Occasionally expensive, if it involves cancelling with a deposit.

I used to fear disappearing. Like if I didn’t show up, people would forget me. But what really happened? I remembered myself. I stopped chasing invitations and started chasing alignment. With my values. With my peace. And with my need to be aggressively boring sometimes.

And honestly? I’ve never been more visible. To me. I’m not just surviving without all the social fuss. I’m thriving in a cloud of essential oils and unmatched socks.

When Socialising Feels Like Homework

Even the most wholesome hangouts can feel like admin when your day job is managing other people’s drama. Love you to bits, but I’m not showing up unless I have the spoons, the serotonin, and a clean bra. And no, I will not apologise.

I once made the mistake of befriending someone who only called when her life was on fire. Eventually I realised I wasn’t a friend, I was free therapy. So I did what any self-respecting goblin would do. I vanished.

These days, if it doesn’t feel like mutual nourishment, I’m out. I’m a golden retriever introvert hybrid: I’ll love you endlessly, but also might hide under the bed for a week. I need quiet to remember who I am.

The Ride-or-Dies

Now, this isn’t about ditching people. It’s about investing where it matters. My monkey sphere is tight, weird, and deeply respectful of my need to vanish occasionally. We talk in depth. We overshare. And we eat Cheezels in silence like seasoned professionals.

I don’t want to know your LinkedIn updates, Jennifer. I want to know what keeps you awake at night and what you’d name your imaginary alpaca. You see, I don’t do small talk anymore. It’s soul talk or nothing.

And my people? They get that. They don’t guilt-trip, and they don’t whine. Instead, they text “no worries” when I cancel and mean it. That’s how I know they’re my people.

Solitude for the Neurospicy and Wonderfully Wired

For those of us who are a little neurospicy, autistic, ADHD, Tourette’s, or just wired in ways society loves to misunderstand, solitude isn’t just nice, it’s survival. Crowds, noise, bright lights, small talk? That’s not a social event, that’s a sensory ambush. Solitude is where we decompress, unmask, and let our nervous systems unclench.

We process the world differently. We feel things deeply, get overstimulated easily, and need time to sort through the mental download of just existing. Alone time isn’t an escape. It’s a recalibration. It’s how we stay functional and vaguely pleasant. Without it, we turn into feral forest creatures who bite.

So if you’re ND or just a little why-shaped in a world built for exclamation marks, please know this: your need for solitude is sacred. It doesn’t make you difficult. It makes you self-aware. And the people who love you will understand that sometimes, the best way to connect… is not to.

I’m not lonely. I just prefer my own chaotic genius over someone else’s lukewarm chat about houseplants.

Give Yourself the Damn Permission

So, if you’ve been waiting for someone to knight you with the sacred sword of solitude, here I am. Arise, mystic hermit queen. You don’t owe anyone your time, your energy, or your awkward presence at their cousin’s engagement party.

You’re not weird, you’re self-aware. You’re protecting your nervous system like the precious goblet of peace it is. Don’t let anyone shame you for knowing what fills your cup and what shatters it on the floor.

Solitude is not a flaw. It’s a flex. A full-body exhale. And if it brings you peace, that’s more valuable than any social points you’ll ever score. Stay weird. Stay quiet. And stay gloriously unavailable.

You Are Not Entitled to an Answer – Chaos, Crumbs and Clarity

In this episode of Chaos, Crumbs and Clarity, we're unpacking why you are not entitled to an answer. Specifically, we're talking about the strange little corner of modern dating where a few days of app chat somehow becomes an emotional contract, and suddenly a man you've never met believes your silence requires a formal explanation, a debrief, and possibly a follow-up meeting with management.I have two stories for you. One man who talked almost exclusively about himself, ignored the fact that I was sick, and then followed up a week later asking whether I'd reconsidered his "request for clarification". And another who became offended because I didn't respond to his selfie within two hours while I was lying in a dark room with a migraine. Sir. Please be serious.Because here's the thing. Before you've met someone, you do not owe them unlimited access to your time, attention, reassurance, or emotional labour. You don't have to justify why the vibes changed. You don't need a reason they'll consider reasonable. You are allowed to disengage because something felt off, because you changed your mind, because you met someone else, or because you're in your luteal phase and frankly the entire world can wait.Today we're talking about the difference between ghosting and simply disengaging, why demanding closure can become a boundary violation, the exhausting expectation that women should manage men's feelings for them, and why you do not need to JADE, justify, argue, defend, or explain, when you've already decided you're done. Let's get into it.Key Takeaways:A few days of chatting does not create a debt. Matching on an app, exchanging messages, or talking on the phone does not give someone a claim on your attention. Until you've actually built a connection, you are allowed to walk away without submitting supporting documentation.Closure is not something another person can demand from you. Asking once is one thing. Continuing to push after someone has clearly disengaged is not persistence or emotional maturity. It's refusing to accept the answer you've already been given.You do not need to JADE. You don't have to justify, argue, defend, or explain why you're no longer interested. The reason doesn't have to be good enough for him. It just has to be yours.Pre-date silence and post-date silence are not the same thing. If you've never met, disengaging is part of app dating. Once you've shared an actual date or developed a genuine connection, a simple goodbye becomes basic courtesy. Nobody needs a dissertation, but acknowledging another human being matters.Sometimes they don't miss you. They miss the audience. Someone can seem interested while actually being interested in having your attention. Real connection requires curiosity about you. If the only time they become deeply engaged is when you're leaving, pay attention to that.For more visit ⁠BryJaimea.com⁠ or follow over on IG ⁠@BryJaimea

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