A look of confusion and horror flitted across my work colleague’s face as I described my Thursday night. I’d gone to a new Japanese restaurant down the block and then saw a movie I’d been dying to see that had just opened in theaters. The food was delicious, and the movie was both touching and hilarious. My colleague's problem wasn’t with my actions, but with the fact that I did these things alone. Pity is a common reaction when I tell people that I spent a day by myself. “I’m sure you’ll make friends soon,” they say, trying to be comforting. Maybe I will, maybe I won’t, but I’m sure as heck not waiting to see the new Pixar movie until I have someone to go with.

Why do I even need someone to go with? Hanging out with friends is a blast, and social interaction is necessary for survival, but I think it’s equally important to be comfortable in your own company. If we only do things with others, we risk forgetting what really makes us happy. Do you even like coffee, or do you just frequent coffee shops because that’s what your friends like to do? Not that there’s anything wrong with making sacrifices for friends as long as you stay in touch with yourself.

Today, with people constantly in contact with one another, being alone can be an odd and uncomfortable experience. Being alone is not always fun. Sometimes it’s nice, but more often than not, it is lonely and isolating. Sometimes it’s a choice, but not always. There have been days I’ve spent in complete silence, not speaking to another soul except for maybe the cashier at the grocery store. It gets heavy. When I finally happen upon someone to talk to, my words feel strange and foreign in my mouth. I’ve grown used to them simply swirling in my head.

My first afternoon in Chicago, my phone died. I was an hour-long train ride from anyone I knew, and I didn’t even know where the train station was. I’d gotten overconfident and assumed that I could find my way back, but movie theaters are always disorienting. (Yes, I went to see a movie by myself on my first afternoon in Chicago. It was raining, and solo movie-watching is sorely underrated.) When I emerged from the darkened theater into the glaring light of day, I lost all sense of direction. I wandered in a direction that felt right for a while before questioning my judgment and deciding to take a random turn that I thought would put me on track. It was all downhill from there.

Soaked to the bone and shivering because I had been expecting actual summer and not whatever Chicago was trying to masquerade as summer weather (50 degrees is fall, people), I walked in what I later realized was basically a circle. Twice. Eventually, after a series of wrong turns and questionable directional advice received from various homeless people, shopkeepers and sidewalk activists, I found my way to the train station, a few hours later than I had planned. But now I knew I could survive the city. I had done fine, all on my own. I had chatted with a British guy who worked in a non-threatening candy store where I had asked for directions because it seemed more welcoming than the other fancy stores lining Michigan Avenue, where I assumed my bedraggled gutter-rat look would not be met with smiles. He had no idea how to get to the train station either, but we bonded over our mutual ignorance of the city streets and landmarks. I’d befriended an Indian family who huddled under an overhang with me to avoid the rain. If I had not been alone, I wouldn’t have had those experiences or the confidence I walked with the next day, knowing that even if I wasn’t prepared, I’d be OK.

While being alone may be difficult and uncomfortable, sometimes it’s essential. When being alone is the last thing you want, that may be when it is most needed. Despite the discomfort and the awkwardness it brings, the growth that will accompany it will be worth it. If you never put yourself into difficult situations, your opportunities for growth will be severely limited. It’s hard to learn when you stay squarely planted where you’re comfortable. If you push yourself, you will be a stronger person for it, and you will know yourself better. More solitude is necessary for some than others, and some of us are more equipped to handle it, just like others of us handle the pressure of large groups better than others. I would argue that solitude is a necessary part of life, just like community is. As John-Paul Sartre once said, “If you are lonely when you're alone, you are in bad company.”