After years of being surrounded by people, I started craving space in my 50s. I used to feel guilty about it, but now I see that wanting to live alone isn’t weird—it’s honest.
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At 50, I stopped fighting the idea that maybe I was happiest alone. After my kids moved out and my divorce, silence felt like a gift. People used to say I was isolating, but for me, it was healing. Being alone doesn’t mean you’re broken—it means you’re choosing peace on your own terms.