I am my own best friend

"I am my own best friend."

It’s a statement that might make some people feel uneasy. When you hear it, you might even think, Ouch, followed by a bit of pity. And that’s understandable.

As an introvert by nature, I spent years as a social chameleon, moving from friend group to friend group, never staying in one place for too long. I used to have many friends, and for most of my life, I never truly understood what it meant to be alone. Back then, "alone" felt like a bad word—a state to be avoided at all costs.

Fast forward to today, and I find myself miles away from loved ones, with the friends that were once my tribe slowly fading from my life. That's when I started realizing just how much we are shaped by the company we keep.

You might be wondering why I’ve chosen this self-imposed exile. Well, people often create distance when they feel suffocated, uncomfortable, or in need of space to breathe.

Yes, friends are supposed to be the people you go to when life gets tough, the ones who make you feel comfortable and supported. And that’s true. But it’s just as important to feel okay being alone—and to maintain your sanity while doing so.

Choosing solitude wasn’t an easy decision. At the time, it felt like something I had to do. I was exhausted, lost, and overwhelmed. My life felt like it was falling apart, but I was still focused on keeping everyone else around me happy. I don’t regret it—it was done out of love—but little by little, I was losing myself in the process. And then, when I finally chose me, I was punished for it.

I thought my friendships were strong enough to handle a period of time when I needed space and time to focus on myself. It turns out, that wasn’t the case. The moment I prioritized myself over others, I became the bad guy. As someone who used to be a people-pleaser, this was a hard pill to swallow. At first, the title of "bad guy" stung. But eventually, it started to seem silly. If taking care of my peace made me the villain, then fine—I'll wear that label.

I was alone, but I rarely felt lonely. My family, though far away, was always there to support me. I still had friends, even if fewer than before, who stayed by my side. That made the journey easier to bear.

Waking up alone, going out alone, facing difficult moments alone, laughing and dancing alone, and figuring out complicated situations alone—these were all new and interesting experiences.

I’ve always enjoyed my own company, but there came a point when even I started to get bored of myself. This existential ennui forced me to take a long, hard look in the mirror. Who was this person staring back, and more importantly, did I even like her? It was a strange feeling—being tired of my own company. Imagine being with someone all the time, sharing everything, doing everything together, until you’ve talked about and done all there is. Most relationships end when things reach that point. But this was me—I couldn’t end my relationship with myself and move on to someone else. That’s not how it works. So, I had to live through the boredom. I had to let it run its course.

This combination of alone time and boredom opened my eyes to a lot of things. (Funny how life teaches us lessons whether we want to learn them or not.) It made me question my values and priorities. Was I really following the path I wanted to? I don’t have all the answers yet, but my approach to life is starting to shift.

I began treating myself the way I would treat my best friend—with kindness, understanding, and loyalty. I started prioritizing Yasmine: her needs, her happiness, her comfort. And the good news is that she’s feeling better. Still a little bored, but happy bored.

More than anything, I’ve gained respect for myself and my needs. I listen to my body, reconnect with my soul, and grow more comfortable in my own skin.

Becoming my own best friend was a difficult but rewarding experience. It helped me to step back into society, feeling stronger and more in tune with myself. Ready to conquer whatever comes my way :)