However, I've never lived alone and sometimes I regret never having that experience. I am grateful though to have always shared my home with those I care about. Not everyone is so blessed. I've also never camped out alone, something that is on my list of desired life experiences.
I used to have a problem being alone with myself. I avoided it, even if that evasion was only through the use of TV...TV has a way of fooling you into thinking you are not alone. I nearly hated being home alone. I would become gripped with fear...I am not even sure fear of what--burglars, ghosts, my wild imagination? I'd turn on all the lights and lock all the doors. Sometimes even the door to the basement which I knew was empty. I hated walking alone. I would never go folfing alone or go fly a kite alone. I felt stupid when I tried to do those things solo. Or more accurately I think I felt sad and lonely. Like I was less because it was "just me." I think I needed to be surrounded by people and activity in order to be distracted from myself and the life I was leading which seemed so far from the life I wanted.
I don't feel that way any more these days. I feel I've grown into myself and am more comfortable with myself and my place in this universe than I've ever been before. I feel purpose. I am happier than ever before and I think that is most important. "If you're happy in your head then solitude is blessed and alone is okay." That is not to say I never have moments of questioning...of doubt... of wanting someone around to reassure me that it is all okay.
My pursuits seem to lend themselves to solitude--knitting, birdwatching, reading, sewing, baking. All are quite pleasant and meditative alone. Or maybe my circle of friends just doesn't include any knitters or bakers yet and someday these activities will no longer lend themselves to solitude. I know it is possible.