Flying solo
Flying solo has never come naturally to me. I have always felt safer with the company by my side, blending into the flock and being guided by a more confident flyer. This isn’t altogether a bad thing; it’s fun to fly with friends. However, if you are always following someone else, how will you ever gauge which direction you truly want to travel in?
The mere thought of doing an activity which is ‘supposed’ to be done as part of a group, like going out to dinner or the cinema, used to be enough to bring me out in a cold sweat. There will be many people who relate to this feeling and plenty who don’t. I have friends who will go out to a bar for a drink on their own without hesitation, and other friends who describe them as ‘brave’ for doing so. When it comes to the scale of the challenges our brains encounter, it’s all relative.
The logical side of my brain knows that it is completely acceptable - entirely normal - to be seen in public having a nice time all by yourself. Unfortunately, the anxious side of my brain has the opposite reaction. It hates the idea of flying solo because it thinks those flying as part of a flock will judge me for being on my own. Where this fear stems from is a mystery, but it’s not my main concern; I’m more interested in how I can push past it.
My anxious thoughts are often as loud as they are irrational. They manage to win arguments simply by shouting over logic. Last year, I decided it was time to make a conscious effort to help logic prevail more often during these disagreements in my mind. ‘Go on more solo dates’ was one of my New Year’s Resolutions in 2024 - and I actually stuck to it!
Anxiety vs. reality
When I first came up with this resolution, I wrote out a little list (on my phone, of course) of solo adventures I wanted to go on; things I’d never done before all on my lonesome. I ticked each one of them off and, as I did, was reminded that my anxiety is not to be trusted…
My anxiety told me that people would watch me from the moment I stepped inside a cinema alone until the second I left, waiting irritatedly for me to be joined by a companion.
In reality, going to stare at a screen while not talking is a perfectly normal thing to do on your own (in some ways, it makes more sense to go to the cinema alone) and does not provoke any kind of reaction. Even if someone in the audience wanted to gawk at you, cinemas are too dark for them to see you.
My anxiety told me I would feel uncomfortably obvious sitting in a park on my own, surrounded by groups of people laughing and being silly. I hadn’t been openly mocked at the cinema, but it would definitely happen here.
In reality, on a sunny day in a busy park, there are far more interesting things to look at than a tall man sitting on a picnic blanket (even if he is wearing a cute little outfit to make himself feel more confident). Laying around reading Yellowface and scribbling in my notebook felt kind of romantic. Like I was the main character in a film about a gay Scotsman who runs away to find happiness in a new city. I felt content and, as always, a little too warm.
My anxiety told me that going to the gym on my own was a terrible idea because straight (presenting) men would perceive me and judge me and, worst of all, talk to me.
In reality, you don’t suddenly turn into a freak show when you enter a gym unaccompanied. There is no leering or guffawing. People are there to obsess about their own bodies, not yours. Even random men attempting to critique your workout is (while still annoying and unnecessary) not as bad as you imagined.
My anxiety told me that, if I went out for a meal by myself, the staff at the restaurant would be annoyed that I was taking up a table that could be used for a bigger party, and all of the other diners would pity me, assuming I had been stood up.
In reality… this one was a little comical, to begin with. The waiter shouted across the restaurant, “JUST ONE PERSON?’ to a colleague while holding a chair in the air, enquiring whether they should add it to the table. After it was confirmed that the secondary chair was not required, I was shown to my seat, which was, of course, beside the toilet and facing the wall. This introduction to solo dining did make me want to not exist for just a moment, but by the end of the meal, I was calm, on friendly terms with the staff and full of pasta and wine.
My anxiety is a compulsive liar who enjoys telling me wild untruths. The fallacy it sold me was a completely different story from the one which unfolded in reality. The more solo dates I went on, the more evidence I gathered that I was more than capable of enjoying a time by myself in public no matter what that little drama queen inside my head said.
Write it down
The biggest solo adventure I have been on so far was a short city break in Manchester. Three days all by myself in a city I was only slightly familiar with. It was a wonderful plan, but still a tricky trip to look forward to.
In the lead-up to the city break, once again, my anxiety started feeding me lies: I will be too in my head to enjoy anything while exploring a new city all on my own. And then I will have to come home and pretend to everyone that I had a wonderful time. It’d be easier to just not go.
I knew how silly and untrue these thoughts were, but that didn’t make them any less distracting. In my experience, ignoring anxious thoughts doesn’t help them go away, it can often help them linger in the back of my mind for longer. Looking directly at anxiety is more likely to scare it off. I decided to keep a journal of my anxious thoughts to help me see them for what they truly were - lies.
Any time I felt anxious, awkward or uncomfortable, I wrote down how I was feeling and what I was thinking in the Notes app on my phone. It didn’t make my anxieties vanish instantly, but it did remind me of their size. Seeing your thoughts written out reminds you of just how small they are. You are so much bigger than your anxieties, even if you don’t always feel like it.
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You are so much bigger than your anxieties, even if you don’t always feel like it.
As the days went on, I had fewer anxious thoughts to jot down, and started noting down other things too. Little observations about the city of Manchester and quotes overheard from conversations between strangers (“Then I realised I was just a lesbian instead.” / “I love supermarkets”. / “That doesn’t look like it was new in 1957”). All the things I would have spoken and laughed about with a friend had they been there with me. Notes of humour and intrigue sat happily amongst the worries.
I would recommend journaling at any time, but especially when you are in a situation which causes your anxiety to increase. The simple act of writing out your thoughts helps declutter and reorganise your mind. It also acts as a distraction; a task for your mind to focus on rather than overthinking everything going on around you.
And, in case you wondered, I had a lovely time in Manchester (and I promise I’m not just saying that). Solo trips can be just as enjoyable as group holidays, they are just enjoyable in a quieter, more introspective way. Having only your brain for company can be a daunting prospect, but lean into it and you will learn to enjoy time with yourself as much as with others.
Give yourself grace
Give yourself a bit more grace is the number one piece of advice I dish out whenever I am discussing anxiety with my friends. Don’t be so harsh on yourself. Gift yourself the time and space to catch up to where you want to be.
A generous amount of grace is required when attempting to overcome any kind of anxiety. I don’t want to give the impression that I instantly took to all of the activities I have mentioned above and didn’t have a single anxious thought once I was doing them. When I first went to the cinema, I did feel a little obvious until the film started. How comfortable I feel in a gym varies from day to day (that is an entirely separate article, which I will write one day). My anxiety was sky-high for the first 24 hours of my city break. Anxiety is not that easily overcome.
That said, with each one of the solo dates I ticked off my list, I proved to my brain that I was capable of doing it. Even if I felt a little anxious, I could do it. Each tick built my self-confidence up a little, and that’s not something to undervalue. Overcoming anxious mountains is still something to be proud of, even if, when you look back on the challenges, it turns out they were molehills.
When working on your anxiety, it is all about celebrating the little wins. Each of the solo dates I’ve been on so far, and the ones I plan to continue going on in future, is a little win. A victory for logic over anxiety. A step towards a less anxious existence.
No matter how far you travel, what matters most is that you’re moving forward. Flying solo might feel scary but the freedom is worth the fear.