I have always had an affinity with the nighttime, with its inherent peace and tranquillity.

My father would often scold me as a teenager for sleeping through most of the morning, which I suppose isn’t completely unusual for someone of that age. Though now I’m 32, not much is different; aside from work and relationship commitments, to paint outside in the sunlight, or swim, I’ll often stay in bed awhile. With my head under the sheets, I pretend the world outside the little cave I’ve created doesn’t exist. It is only when I finally get up that I realise how horrible that made me feel.

It is the calm I feel in the solitude of an evening that I need; I am often prone to bouts of social anxiety that I can hide masterfully, along with feelings of exhaustion caused by low self-esteem and negative self-talk, that make the most menial tasks seem gargantuan.

I currently live alone, and although this is ideal, I find the thought of interacting with people more nerve-racking than ever, even though the act is never as scary or hard as you think—it is the idea of the act that is. So much so, the lights in my bedroom have short-circuited and rather than speak with my landlord, I use my phone’s torch to read or cook at night. I can also go days on end without checking this phone, which is always in ‘do not disturb’ mode. I am the duality between the worry of being a burden and burdening others with worry.

So, this begs the question: how much solitude is too much solitude? When does the freedom of a solitary evening cripple your days? When does the idea of social interaction become too tiring? My Mother has always spoken of how I enjoy my own company, and I do, though there must come a point where too much time alone affects your time with others. I have skim-read studies and seen programs on what the effects of prolonged solitude have on men’s mental and physical health, equivalent to 15 cigarettes a day, and a greatly higher risk of anxiety and depression.

Although I do subscribe to this, as I often have doubts and questions over the most insignificant matters, or self-accusations that buzz around my head without ever an answer, when you only have yourself to talk to, and you’re an overthinker like I am, this rumination can go on for hours.

I also don’t deny my need for these times alone. To walk under the starry sky of a cool and peaceful evening, or feel my mind is quiet enough to be completely silent whilst writing, or painting, or taking photos whilst all else sleeps, is the closest thing I’ve come to meditation.

I dare say that ‘pure’ introverts and extroverts are rarer than we think, and that we are predominantly a mix of both, with some needing solitude or socialising more than others. For myself, I’ve spent the majority of my young life jumping from one serious relationship to another. I am also a twin, so to say that I don’t cherish sharing love with a partner, or can’t derive joy out of spending time with loved ones, is folly. Although I must admit, I often wonder if the fact I didn’t even have a womb to myself might have contributed to my habit of withdrawing, this of course is clutching at straws and me not owning my personality and my mental health, because I also don’t deny that I am probably the problem, and that balance needs to be exercised to keep my mental hygiene clean. This means remembering to keep a healthy routine, exercise, notice when you don’t derive joy from activities you love, or spending time alone and not answering the phone for the wrong reasons.

Jean-Baptiste(Poem)

The night will be here soon

though seems to make me wait

longer each day

these days

damned

these days

curse me

my morning sickness

pregnant

my sheet a sheath over my head

my hooded jumper worn just to cover my face

to camouflage this body as dirty laundry

I’m not here

not really

so don’t bother waiting

for my return

my re-entering

the atmosphere’s gravity

the earth’s full of heavy

I know people aren’t that scary

though my phone stays on silent

to try and quiet this mind

do not disturb

blocked

off

door’s locked

drawn blind(s)

eyes mimicking night

all is silent (but this mind)

the night will be here soon

my shell now sanctuary

impenetrable

turtle

so I’ll deal with

that

them

it

tomorrow

tomorrow tomorrow

tomorrow always a day away.

Whoever made this race must be crazy

though it is me

that is always running from something

I have faith people are generally good

they must be

if made in god’s image

people can be devils

people are confusing

though their eyes tell you what their mouths are really saying

or is it just my mind talking

nothing personal

friend

nothing to do with anything but my

mind

body

at times enemy.

The witching hour

salvation

the morning

hell.

Though not always

not all the serious.

Thomas Hannah 

Blogger @poemstellium 

Instagram: @brokesellout