I am Afraid of Becoming the Crazy Cat Lady

Alone – E.A. Poe

“From childhood's hour I have not been

As others were; I have not seen

As others saw; I could not bring

My passions from a common spring.

From the same source I have not taken

My sorrow; I could not awaken

My heart to joy at the same tone;

And all I loved, I loved alone.

Then- in my childhood, in the dawn

Of a most stormy life- was drawn

From every depth of good and ill

The mystery which binds me still:

From the torrent, or the fountain,

From the red cliff of the mountain,

From the sun that round me rolled

In its autumn tint of gold,

From the lightning in the sky

As it passed me flying by,

From the thunder and the storm,

And the cloud that took the form

(When the rest of Heaven was blue)

Of a demon in my view.”

There is something about being alone that is a truly beautiful thing. Now, when I say “alone” I do not mean lonely. When I am alone, I am often walking over long trails in the twilight, my head stirred in thought. When I am alone I can lay there, on my bed in silence and allow the silence to take me. To enjoy that kind of quiet is something I find most pleasurable about my life. To be alone is to enjoy a perfectly good book with your cat curled on you belly, singing a deep purr.  Being alone gives me space to grow. And lately, I’ve needed to grow. Perhaps these things make me a solitary person, but I don’t particularly mind. There is an ugliness surrounding the word “alone.” We often associate it with depression or social-behavioral problems. I will not go through the tedious job of defining “alone” for you, if you care to define a word you can easily Google it; however, I do wish to redesign the word so that perhaps it will take on a positive connotative meaning.

            I have come to find that being alone is something I CHOOSE to do, rather than am forced to. Such as, I have chosen to be single this summer. In this sense, I chose to be “alone,” but I did this because I wanted to grow. After years of emphasis on my romantic life, I realized that I need space to just be myself. I needed to grow as Anna, and not as Anna and Peter or Anna and Joey. I wanted to come out of this summer refreshed, independent and stronger than ever before. And I have accomplished this.

            I now realize that being alone is not a failure, but in fact an accomplishment. It takes a mature person to be able to be alone. It means that you’re comfortable enough with yourself to not constantly pursue social interaction or romantic interests (I am aware that when I say being alone is mature, that I am complimenting myself in a big way, but this is how I am going to get the point across. I reassure you that I am by no means smug). Regardless, there is a thin line between “alone” and “lonely,” something I’ve discovered more this summer than ever before. Let me be perfectly clear: to be alone is to allow yourself to grow with less help from those around you. To be lonely is to allow your thoughts to consume you and drag you into a pit of depression.  When I say lonely, I do mean depressed and socially underfed. It’s essential to understand our limits and allow others in when we are lonely, for we are truly social beings and our thirst for interaction must be quenched. But perhaps understanding that thin line is also a sign of maturity. Maybe I am overanalyzing these words and the amount of maturity I have satisfied myself with having. It’s difficult to say.

            Nevertheless, I have spent plenty of time on my own this summer, reaching many conclusive thoughts and yet, having so many more thoughts that still dwell my brain, restlessly. So I need more time to be alone, until those thoughts are appeased. With any luck, I will find myself one day pleased with myself and my growth, because, yes, I am afraid of becoming the crazy cat lady. Aren’t we all?

I am aware that I haven't posted in a long while, I have been suffering from severe writer's block. So, please forgive me if this is not my most eloquent piece of writing thus far.

Best, 

Anna Belle Lee