People often assume that something is wrong when a person is private or keeps a small circle. A lot of time alone can look like loneliness from the outside. Quiet gets interpreted as sadness, fear, or a social problem that needs to be fixed.
I actually feel nourished by solitude.
My circle is extremely small. On most days, the only people I truly want to speak with are my girlfriend, my best friend, and God. I am good with that. Anybody else draws from a battery that loses power pretty quickly.
I still go to large gatherings from time to time. If you met me at one, you would probably never know how much energy the room was costing me. I participate, laugh, listen, and make people comfortable. Then I go home and recover in private.
There is some pressure to hide that cost. People can read an outgoing person as warm and a reserved person as distant. Someone who leaves early may seem uninterested. People rarely ask how much energy it took for that person to show up in the first place.
When I am alone, the noise has time to settle and I can hear what I actually think. I can pray, sit with an idea before anybody asks me to explain it, and recharge before I spend time with the people who matter most to me.
The few relationships in my life hold loyalty, truth, laughter, correction, faith, and years of being known. I can speak to three people and feel completely held.
I enjoy some crowds. Meeting somebody new can be good, community matters, and I know I have to show up for people even when staying home would be easier. I am learning how to do that while being honest with myself about how I am built.
Protecting my quiet makes me a better listener. It gives me more patience for the people inside my circle. I can recharge and come back with more energy to love them well.
I like the person I am around the people I love when I have had enough time alone.