Being Alone

Helping helps—but so does disappearing for a while.

Yesterday, I talked about how helping others can heal us. Today, I want to talk about something just as important—maybe harder to accept:

being alone is also healing.

Not in a performative way. Not in the "solo traveler posting beach pics" kind of way. Just… sitting with yourself. Feeling okay in the silence.

Sometimes we avoid being alone because we’re afraid of being too seen. Alone time strips you down. No audience. No mask. Just you and you.

And when it’s just you and your thoughts, there’s nowhere to hide. So we stay busy. We stay available. We throw ourselves into other people’s lives because helping feels good—but also because it lets us avoid ourselves.

But how can we heal if we don’t stop?

Alone isn’t a punishment.

It’s a pause.

You're not broken for needing rest. Or space. Or distance. You're just human. And you're allowed to take your time.

We carry so much for others - but when do we ever stop to feel it ourselves?

I'm at a festival as I write this—came alone, just to try something different. A mini adventure. Good music, good people, good vibes. Honestly? Therapeutic. I love festivals. The energy, the freedom—everything. I try to hit at least one a year. So when there's one in Malta, I zoom straight to the ticket site. Gotta support local, my G's.

Festivals are a mental escape. Something I do to reset. No overthinking. Just freedom. I can go alone or with people—it doesn’t matter. As long as I go. Because once I'm there, everything makes sense.

I see people chilling on the grass, talking. Sipping beer, eyes closed, following the beat. Food truck vendors laughing with their families. Even security getting in on the groove. I love that. I love when a bouncer lets the music move them, just for a second. That little leak of real life, even while on the job. They're working… but vibing too.

And then there's me. No beer in hand. No crew around me. Just standing still. Watching. Soaking it all in.

I used to think being alone here would feel weird. But now?

I feel like I'm part of the rhythm in a different way. I don't need to be seen to be in it.

Being around people is beautiful too—even when you don’t know them. Or barely know them. Or they’re long-lost friends who still show up when you need them.

Just a bunch of people being people. Quirky in their own way. Sometimes together. Sometimes alone. Whatever floats your goat today, my dude.

It’s Saturday. And Saturdays are for adventure.

If you're reading this alone right now, let it count.

You're not weird for it. You're brave.

Brave enough to face yourself. Brave enough to sit in the quiet while everyone else fills the silence with noise.

That’s real strength.

And I see it in you—

even if no one else does.

Talk soon – matt