Alone in Carcassonne

Why being alone is good for you

Jan 17, 2024

The street in Carcassonne when I had to put my big girl pants on

I’ve done it in a restaurant. I’ve done it on a plane. I’ve done it in a cinema. I’ve done it in Spain. I’ve done it in a forest and I’ve done it in the sea. I’ve resisted it, fought for it, mourned it, and celebrated it.

Alone time. Alone activities. Remembering the ‘me’ amid all the ‘we’ elements of my life over the years as daughter, parent, partner, boss, colleague, friend.

It’s something women in midlife can be reluctant to do, lack the confidence to do, or may not have much opportunity to do. Yet is it such an empowering, enriching, sane-seeping, glorious reminder that you are you, separate to all the roles you play.

Whether you are married or not, a parent or not, single and sassy, or overwhelmed and overwrought, carving out time to be you, setting aside space to do you, following desires and ambitions regardless of who else can or wants to join you, maintains a level of self-determination that you matter, that you can take up space, thank you very much, as you.

Going to a museum. Eating dinner in a restaurant or lunch in a cafe. Seeing a movie you want to see but no-one else does.

I say this for the marrieds, as much as for the singles. For the younger, mid, and older midlifers.

When we fill ourselves with other people, and keep consumed with doing, we lose sight of who we are as intrinsic individuals. We become the layers of the Nesting Dolls, not the core.

Here is a quote from a previous piece I wrote about this idea:

Those Russian dolls I mentioned? They exemplify perfectly how women layer themselves in roles until their core is hidden. The small solid nugget is you with all your innate traits and talents, quirks, likes and dislikes. But soon you add a layer as you strive to meet the expectations of your culture, society, parents and upbringing. You might then add a layer for your role in society and career. Then you add one as a partner, another as a parent, and finally, by midlife, you have formed the outer doll that contains all those layers.This is the one you present to the outside world composed of the Facebook happy shots, meeting the Good Girl expectations, the way things are done and all the ways you might conform and even contort yourself to fit in. It’s not that all those layers are fake or necessarily bad. But they are roles you play, layer upon layer, often smothering the core inside.

Reconnecting to yourself means turning on a light, the light you so often brightly shine on others, on yourself, on that core, looking at which beliefs serve that core and which do not. Looking at what you really want, and how you really want your life to feel

The Power of One

My 16 year old daughter was recently in Brighton on work experience. She was working with her photographer uncle and called me in a panic. She’d been sent into the centre of Brighton to buy some books and other items. Not being able to find a couple of things, she rang me, because we all know mothers in Dublin can find obscure books in Brighton at the drop of a hat. Actually what I did was google book shops in Brighton and sent her a map. Later I rang to see how she’d got on and she told me how proud she was of herself to have navigated it all and then she hesitated. Hesitated as if she was trying to form the right words to convey how complicated a simple thing had been. “Then mum, I went and sat in a café ALL BY MYSELF! I didn’t freak out, I just ordered my coffee and sat there. By myself. Without a friend. Like, you know, like, ALONE!”

I smiled back in Dublin. For a teenager this is the height of stress-inducing, society-must-be-judgeing-me, complexity. “Good,” I said. “Let me tell you something. Never ever stop. Being alone in a café with a green tea and a book, or a restaurant with a glass of wine and my laptop, are literally some of my favourite times. Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes!” She almost whispered in case Snapchat overheard and teens around the world called her a loser. “What did you enjoy about it?” I asked. She thought for a moment. “That I could just do something I wanted to do, and not have to wait for someone or get someone else to agree.” Bingo.

Bingo for a teenager.

Busty Brilliant Bingo for a midlifer.

Being alone is something I value almost as much as connection. And for women, especially women at the coalface of midlife, it is a sanctuary that can often be ignored.

It’s very easy for women to loose themselves amid the mayhem of midlife… and one way this happens is we literally lose our space (*and the laundry basket doesn't count as me time).

I went from a single career girl to a multi-mothering wife so quickly I didn’t have time (or warning) to carve out space and time for me. I went from a one bed apartment with three whole rooms to myself (and the cat I couldn’t swing in it) to a three bedroom house without so much as a corner to myself. I was engaged, married and pregnant within 11 months. My sense of identity reduced as fast as my belly expanded. It seemed to happen so fast that I went from living alone and loving the click of my front door knowing it was my choice if I saw other people or dribbled wine down my front in wild, independence not being held accountable by anyone, to not being able to pee by myself or decide when I might sleep.

Often I coach women are emerging from the end of a marriage and their confidence is shot. They can’t imaging even going for lunch by themselves, let alone a trip. But once they start exploring the possibilities… perhaps starting small by going to a museum or art exhibition, or an evening class, they realise that only that they can, but they want to. I have a client who is happily married, and after a decade out of the workplace raising kids, wants to figure out how she wants to to return. Before we even get to the nitty, gritty of that, she’s been learning who she is again, separate from the full immersion she’s experienced as wife and mother. Part of our work has been about her going places just for her. Taking the time, taking the initiative to book tickets, take a day away and make cover plans for the kids, and reignite the slow burning embers of passions and interests she dampened down because life got practical. This even included a day trip to London to see an exhibition.

It can start small - solo walk, solo eating, solo cultural trip. And build to the ultimate solo-experience - travel.

The Solo Traveller

I travelled a lot on my own when I was younger. It felt giddy and adventurous. Doing it as a single mother, after a bruising marriage felt initially gritty and treacherous but eventually my adventuring spirit returned. Once I understood that the time my children where with their dad was not just a time to kill, but a time to live, vibrantly and valiantly for me, I began to relish making my plans.

After my separation I started going to a yoga retreat in Greece, where I met lots of other women travelling on their own. But I originally went alone. Fear and freedom walked me through the airport like security guards with their hands on my shoulder. It was a perfect blend of holiday for a woman alone. There was plenty of other people, yoga and pilates classes, walks and excursions provided and three evenings of socials. It meant I had company if I wanted it and space for when I didn’t. I’d sometimes wander up to the little village and sit by the edge of the harbour with a glass of wine and a book. I’d feel myself coming back to life after the turbulent trauma of my marriage breakdown and mum’s death. I would watch the sinking sun sparkle on the water and know I was going to be ok. Those times were as important as the evenings a group of us would gather together, smiley in the newness of new people and share our stories and laugh at the simplicity of this time against the complexity of our lives. Everyone had a story. And that too is life-affirming. I became such good friends with three of those women who all travelled there alone and live in different places, we now go on a weekend away every year. Last year was Paris, this year is Marrakesh. And each time, I arrive a little early so I have a day to meander through whatever cobbled streets we will meet on later, just gathering myself, reconnecting to who I am away from the life at home as single parent to three teenage girls, caring for an ageing father and builder of a business. I can lay aside the Nesting Dolls layers for a moment and reconnect to my core.

Alone in Carcassonne

I’ve had my difficult times too, of course. A couple of years ago, after a few days with my kids in Paris, before handing them over to their dad for a fortnight’s holiday with him in France, I took the overnight train to Carcassonne where I had a gorgeous couple of days where I drank rosé wine at lunch in the shade of the castle walls, and hired an ebike to cycle to a nearby lake to swim. That evening, high on life from the fact I hadn’t died cycling on a busy French motorway, I walked down the most exquisite ancient street, pursuing the menus of the outdoor restaurants. I walked back to the one I had chosen and asked for a table for one. The maître d didn’t even miss a beat. “Non madam. Sorry, We cannot give up a table for just one person.” I was so shocked, I wasn’t sure I’d heard her properly. But she had turned away to pour wine at the table nearby and I stood there, hot with rejection and humiliation.

I was tempted to tell her she’d no idea how much I could eat and drink, but the tears in my throat held me back.

I’m not going to tell you I I gracefully nodded in a sophisticated French way and meandered on to a better choice anyway. I stumbled away, hands holding my cheeks lest my fallen face drain away onto the cobbles beneath me. But I knew. I just knew that if I walked away, it would really damage my confidence. I could already feel the tsunami of societal shame that I was a single women in her 50’s build up behind me (not real by the way, just bullshit, outdated, inappropriate conditioning that we think we have to adhere to).

And so I spotted a little table for two hidden behind some plants and walked back to the maître d. I pointed to the obscured table and said, “what about that one?” Now I don’t know whether she hadn’t seen it and in fairness, all the tables at the front were tables for four, or whether she didn’t have the heart to refuse me twice, but she nodded and sat me at the table. I ordered a bottle of wine (I thought I’d bring what I didn’t drink back to my hotel) and some steak frites. I had to calm my neurotic heart who wanted me to crawl under my little table and die. So I took out my journal and wrote (this is my go-to precessing practice - you can learn how to here).

I wrote away my fear and reminded myself of the freedom.

I looked around and reminded myself that I had as much right to be here as anyone. That travel wasn’t the exclusive of couples and families. So I smiled at the bedraggled mum trying to manage a mouthful of food while her kids caused havoc and never gave her a moment. I smiled at her because I will be her another time, and I sent my unspoken solidarity as she looked at my solo-serenity in awe. I smiled at the woman arguing with her partner because I’ve been her and know that sitting here alone, despite appearances, is sometimes the much preferred option. The grass isn’t greener. It’s just a trick of the sunlight.

I loved this recent piece by

Notes on a Rebellious Midlife

as Hannah tried her very first solo adventure.

Travelling alone isn’t for everyone. But it should be an option. But alone activities and alone time is for everyone. It’s an essential part of staying connected to yourself. For women it’s about taking up the space any man wouldn’t think twice about. I actively encourage my clients to go on trips and adventures with themselves.

I had one client who said she was really going to miss our Friday sessions when our coaching ended. I told her to keep the appointment anyway. She’d already carved out the time to see me, so keep it. And for a long time, every Friday at 11am she went to a café with her diary and notebook and devoted an hour to thinking about her life. Three years later she still does it once a month.

Putting the life into midlife

I’ve said this before and I’ll keep saying it until women start taking themselves seriously. When I start coaching with a women - be she in her 30’s or her 60’s and anywhere in between, be that she’s here to sort out a shitty career, start a new passion career after a 30 year career, build a new life after kids have left, better manage the struggle to juggle work, kids, partner, life, or is emerging from one of life’s wrecking balls like a divorce - I will start on Day One with an exercise to try and get a bird’s eye of view of her life, as it is right now, at this age, and this stage, whatever those are. It’s not an exercise in self-flagellation, it’s not an exercise of judgment; it’s just to see where she is right now in various aspects of her life - career, personal growth, money, health, relationships, home environment, and …….. fun and leisure.

I cannot tell you how many (well, actually I can tell you…. MOST) women have a low score on fun & leisure. Some actually look surprised it’s even there. They look at me as if they didn’t get the memo to say it’s ok to be practical AND playful. That you can be the core, not just the layers of those Nesting Dolls. That you can thrive fully and grow and learn and evolve as an individual as much as you become the roles you become in relation to other people. (Many women did’t get the memo, because the Patriarchal Printer was stuck that day and it WAS NEVER SENT!).

Time alone, the act of being a person in your own right, going places, doing things, exploring, retreating, adventuring, venturing, or just taking up the space and finding a pace to be with your own thoughts is one of life’s little necessities.

I’d love to hear your thoughts so please join me in the comments below (if you’re reading this in an email, please click on the link below to go through to the website to join the conversation.)

Alone in Carcassonne

Why being alone is good for you

Discussion about this post