In a quiet cabin perched on the edge of the Scottish Highlands, Sarah found herself wrapped in the arms of solitude. The wind sang a mournful tune outside, ruffling the ancient pines, while inside, the crackling fireplace provided a melody of its own. Sarah’s life had been a whirlwind of social obligations, professional milestones, and a constant need to stay connected. Now, in the heart of winter, she had chosen to disconnect.

The idea was radical — or so her friends said. ‘No man is an island,’ they reminded her repeatedly. But Sarah wasn’t seeking isolation out of despair; she yearned to develop a relationship with herself.

Solitude can be both a gift and a burden. Sarah had spent the first days of her retreat luxuriating in its offerings: the unbroken silence, the freedom to think without interruption, the ability to read, write, and simply be. It felt like meeting herself for the first time after years of losing her identity in the chaos of the world.

But the line between solitude and loneliness proved fragile. By the end of her first week, Sarah found herself staring at her phone, aching for the buzz of a message. The emptiness of her inbox was a whisper in the dark, hinting at a creeping fear: Was this all there was to her?

One night, as the snow fell heavily, she decided to confront her discomfort. She sat by the window, her journal open in her lap, and began writing. Words poured out about her childhood dreams, her hidden insecurities, and the #unshakable truths she had avoided for years. She realised she had spent much of her life striving to be seen and understood by others but had never truly seen or understood herself.

Loneliness, she mused, was the absence of connection, while solitude was the presence of self. Could one exist without the other? The turning point came on a bright morning when Sarah ventured into the nearby woods. There, among the frost-tipped ferns, she encountered the delicate tracks of a deer. She followed them until they led to a clearing, where the animal stood, watching her with cautious eyes.

The encounter was brief but profound. At that moment, Sarah felt a deep connection — not to another person, but to the world itself. ‘Even alone,’ she whispered, ‘I am not lonely.’

Her days took on a new rhythm. Each morning began with yoga by the fireplace, and each afternoon with long hikes through snow-dappled trails. She rediscovered her love for painting, capturing the landscapes around her in vibrant strokes of green and gold. As the days passed, she came to see her solitude as an act of kintsugi—a way to repair the broken parts of herself with golden threads of understanding and self-compassion.

By the third week, she no longer reached for her phone. Instead, she marvelled at the stillness that had once unnerved her. In the silence, she could hear the sound of her own thoughts, and for the first time in years, they didn’t overwhelm her.

Sarah’s retreat ended with the new year. When she returned to the city, she found herself changed.

The clamour of daily life no longer felt oppressive; instead, it reminded her of the choice she now had — to engage with the world without losing herself in it. She had learned that solitude wasn’t about escaping others but about returning to herself, stronger and more whole.

Her friends noticed the change. ‘You seem different,’ one remarked over coffee. ‘I feel different,’ Sarah replied. ‘I used to think solitude was something to avoid. Now I see it as necessary — a way to understand who I am so I can give the best of myself to others.’

Her friend frowned. ‘But aren’t we supposed to need people?’ ‘Of course,’ Sarah said. ‘But how can we truly connect with others if we are disconnected from ourselves? Solitude taught me that relationships aren’t about filling a void; they are about sharing the strength we build in our quietest moments.’

Sarah’s journey was a testament to the #unshakable truth that growth often begins in the stillness of solitude. While loneliness can leave one yearning for connection, solitude offers the gift of introspection and renewal. The saying ‘No man is an island’ may hold wisdom, but even islands thrive best when they are rooted firmly in their foundations.

Sarah had found hers, and in doing so, she became #unshakable.

We have come to realise that being #unshakable is not perfection; it is about striving to be the best version of ourselves in existence at any point in time; therefore, when the sometimes uncomfortable yearnings for solitude come tugging at me, instead of banishing these thoughts, I indulge them and after writing Sarah’s story above, I fully intend to be more intentional about solitude.

As a side note, solitude isn’t always running away to the hinterlands; sometimes, it is, for example, going for a run (or whatever your ‘thing’ is). We can explore that another time, but in the meantime, what does solitude mean to you?

‘See’ you next week.

Sally Chiwuzie
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IG Handle: @unshakable.is.a.state.of.mind