No Man Is An Island

"No Man Is An Island." The first time I heard this saying I was quite young—nine or ten perhaps. My gut reaction at the time was “Like hell!”, and still is to this day.  Granted, I grew up with my introvert wounds of never feeling like I belonged, but there was more at play there, I think.

You see, I’ve chosen islands most of my life. The metaphor is that one is cut off and separate from the main stream. Yup, that’s me.  Sometimes I wonder if it’s the egg or the chicken quandary. Would I have sought solitude if I felt more accepted in my surroundings? Or did my solitude cause discomfort in others and their projection affirmed my decision to isolate? Regardless of the reasons, solitude is my comfort zone. Not all introverts feel this way, but many, many do in varying degrees.

I’ve had many extroverted friends that truly believe I am missing something by remaining separate. But for the life of me I don’t see what it is. I have very close and nurturing friendships, I have family that doesn’t necessarily understand me, but truly accepts me. I am happiest in my own company for the majority of my waking hours. I have such richness of depth in my daily life I do not feel lack in any way. What I do feel is gratitude that I can create such an idyllic life. You see, on my island I get to go ashore as often as I want. I have it all. I truly have it all.