Solace in Solitude: A Case for Isolation

I’ve often heard the advice: “Come out of your shell.” Most recently, my friend Seyi said, “You isolate yourself too much. It’s time to step out.”

Lol…🫠okay….👀

But before I do, allow me to make a case for isolation—my closest friend, my safe haven, and a lifelong companion.

This is my favourite art, and I’m very good at this.

I have a complex relationship with Isolation. You see, to me, it is my sanctuary and a tool for survival. I find solace in it. It is my happy place. As someone who has faced the chaos of life, people seem to think it is just a reaction to pain. But…no. It is a deliberate choice to protect my peace, it is the incubator in which I stay bubbly and nurture my aura; the “vibe” people seem to love so much about me, and it is the bunker through which I avoid and safeguard myself from the chaos that often accompanies unresolved projections, insecurities and judgements in others.

Isolation gets a bad rep, but my entire life taught me how to be alone and enjoy my own company.

For me, isolation shields me from the fear of being replaced, ignored, or judged. It’s a space where I am enough—without comparison, without compromise. But let me clarify: this love for isolation wasn’t born from privilege but necessity. It was a reaction to circumstances beyond my control, a mechanism of self-preservation and protection. And in that necessity, I discovered its power.

My isolation has been honed over years of navigating betrayal, fear, and hurt. It’s not just about being alone but finding solace in solitude—a state where I can reflect, breathe, and truly be myself.

Isolation taught me to be with myself, to learn myself, and to love myself. It’s a masterclass in self-awareness, a journey I have been on involuntarily since I was 17. I’ve come to see it not as loneliness but as freedom—a space untainted.

💭You see, in as much as I can have reservations about my upbringing, one thing I now have come to understand is that growing up, I was lucky in ways I didn’t always understand. My parents raised us with immense love—not the overt, picture-perfect kind, but a quiet, profound kind. We were given the freedom to dream, object, inquire, and be curious. They nurtured our autonomy and encouraged us to love who we were and where we came from, flaws and all.

We were injected with values to appreciate and nurture the intangible things inside of us, and to appreciate both our bad and good sides.

…Not many people were granted such a luxury…

This upbringing gifted me with an unshakable foundation of self-assurance. I was never taught to conform or shrink myself to fit into the expectations of others. But stepping into the world, I quickly realised that many weren’t as fortunate. People wore masks, sought validation, and conformed to moulds that dulled their authenticity. Most times, I didn’t care to be anything other than who I was I was. I liked everything about me, the horrible and the amazing. I noticed I was the odd one out—a mirror reflecting their stifled selves—and that often made me a target.

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This is when you realise that a lot of people were stifled, controlled, folded and belittled from an early age. We have a lot of people roaming the earth not knowing who they are or have been made to believe that who they are is not okay, and made to conform to segments of society that they sought acceptance, validation and recognition from.

They’ll try to shut you down, silence you, or diminish you, not because of anything you’ve done, but because of who you are. Their projections… completely unhinged.

Either that or they usually try to get into your energy and mask, appearing in the world with it. It’s almost as if they are here to study your energy and turn it into theirs, or add it to the list of energies they have absorbed over time.

I absorb nothing but my own energy…

So isolation became my shield. I was running; I hated confrontation, but it also protected me from people who hadn’t done the work to understand themselves. They weren’t ready for the journey I had been on my whole life, and their discomfort with radical self-acceptance often manifested as jealousy or judgment.

“Tutu, you should be more…”

“Tutu why can’t you…”

“Tutu, I wish you would…”

“Tutu, tone down the way you…”

…It can be exhausting…all I am doing is existing…

All these advisory boards of directors…and not once have I ever considered to change who they were.  Who are these people with enough time to mind your business and their own!?

…hmm…I am cautious, so I isolate.

I bleed for people who wouldn’t get a scratch for me. The world became a scary place, and the only person I could trust to never wound, switch up, judge or maltreat me was me.

Resentment builds when we keep people in highly significant places in our lives, and we feel like we are not getting what we expect while also having to lower our expectations to keep them in those significant spaces.

My space is always open, but I had to protect it.

I hated myself for a long time before, but now, I have come to understand it:

The delicate yet unyielding power of autonomy, where love is not a compromise of one’s peace but an enhancement of it. That relationships should be spaces of mutual growth and reverence, not arenas for careless disruption. That you do not settle for anything less than authenticity, understanding, and care. That you are not a warning, but an invitation to rise.

I’ve learned that people who haven’t faced their shadows are unsettled by those who have—it highlights their doubts and fears. And instead of confronting their inadequacies, they projected them onto me. I started to get defensive; I wanted to appear as small, as someone who doubted herself, as someone who needed help before I even introduced myself, that way, I could be left alone. I wanted to save everyone by degrading myself to feel their own sense of shame.

Unfortunately, a lot of people are shamed by those around them and expect others to also be ashamed in those ways. Authenticity shines brighter than perfection, and that’s what truly rattles the insecure.

When you’re secure in yourself, it becomes painfully obvious how many people aren’t. Once you realise it’s not even their fault, then you really feel it. Empathetically.

 The freedom to stand in your truth, to love yourself despite your flaws, and to attract people who accept you as you are annoys a lot of people. That you can be imperfect, flawed, and jacked up in a lot of areas, and people STILL love you in spite of…that is social currency. And it threatens the unhealed.

Isolation has become my sanctuary, not because I hate people but because I love myself enough to preserve my peace. I’ve done the work to build my oasis, my sanctuary, and I won’t allow chaos to invade it. Respect, authenticity, and mutual growth are non-negotiables for anyone who steps into my space.

I have lived and learned all of this the hard way, I refuse to tolerate it again.

This is not to say I reject connection; I deeply value it, but isolation has taught me the art of discernment. I’ve learned to nurture relationships that align with my energy and to let go of those that don’t.

This isn’t also about being unkind or unapproachable; it’s about boundaries. It’s about recognising the value of my peace and refusing to compromise it. My isolation isn’t a rejection of others but a declaration of self-worth. It taught me to identify who adds value to my life and who drains it. It taught me to celebrate the quiet, the solitude, the space to think and just be.

It hasn’t been easy; I struggled with fear and control for a very long time. I have major control issues that stem from having a childhood where nothing was in my control. I didn’t know what would happen to me day in and day out, and I didn’t know how to stop it. This resulted in me having routines, isolating myself, and getting really hurt when someone close to me hurts me, lies to me or disrespects me because that again throws off my whole “control” in my head. They didn’t match the version I created of them in my head. This, again, was a new, unforeseen circumstance that was very hard for me to deal with. I had to let go of trying to control the outcome of how people would treat me. No matter how good I treat someone, I can never expect the same because that’s unrealistic. What I can only do now is, nurture the people who nurture me and move where my energy aligns. And this is very hard for me because I have a saviour complex but sometimes the only way we actually save someone is by letting them get hurt by their own actions. Otherwise, they never learn or grow.

My chosen family of tight-knit friends is proof that connection doesn’t have to come at the cost of my peace. These are people who know themselves and accept me as I am, flaws and all. They’ve shown me that relationships can be spaces of mutual reverence, not arenas for careless disruption.

So yes, I’ve made my case for isolation. It’s not about shutting people out; it’s about inviting the right ones in. It’s about knowing yourself so deeply that you recognize what aligns with you and what doesn’t. And when something doesn’t, you let it go without fear, guilt, or hesitation.

Isolation is not the enemy—it is the teacher, the protector, the guide. And I am grateful for the lessons it has given me.

To those who see isolation as a weakness, I say this: it’s not about being alone; it’s about choosing yourself. It’s about protecting your energy, your dreams, and your authenticity. It’s about understanding that your light will cast shadows and being okay with that.

Because at the end of the day, your light isn’t for everyone. And that’s perfectly okay.

With that being said, it’s time to come out of my shell.

Wish me luck 🧡