Living Alone as a Woman: Why Every Woman Should Live Alone at Least Once

Solitude isn’t loneliness—it’s liberation.

A few weeks ago, I received a text: “Should I live alone or move back in with my parents?” My friend had lived with the same roommate for half a decade, and life was inviting a change. To me, the answer felt obvious—perhaps that’s only because I’d already taken the plunge. 

I was 20 years old when I first lived alone. It was a drastic transition from the home I’d grown up in to a one-bedroom apartment, 40 miles away (to Angelenos, I might as well have moved cross-country). I didn’t know a single person in my new city, and a growing pain was definitely felt. But I’d soon learn that it was only the beginning of the next (very important) four years. Yes, living alone is an economic privilege—for anyone. But living alone as a woman is not inconsiderate—it’s self-honoring. 

In my response, I asked my friend, “What happens when a woman builds a life that belongs solely to her?” 

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Society tells us women are not meant to be alone 

Women across cultures are brought up to serve others—emotionally, logistically, physically—even in the modern world and in such subtle ways that you might not notice it until a moment relieves you of those duties. Despite the feminist movement making significant social strides, society still manages to whisper rewards for partnership and condemnation for solitude.

In response to the longer, more philosophical answer than she probably expected, my friend replied, “So you’re team ‘Live on Your Own.’ That’s where I’m leaning too, but I don’t know—I feel bad.” 

And there it is. Right on time: feminine guilt. 

She wasn’t feeling bad for her multiple years of cohabitating with a friend. Perhaps because it felt justified for reducing costs on behalf of herself and another. Possibly the righteousness of providing company was enough to rationalize. And yet, given the option of her preference—personal space—she felt shame. Precisely my point. 

What happens when a woman learns to hear her own voice 

If the opportunity arises, women should, at some point, choose solitude, for what accompanies it is invaluable and rare: self-rootedness, independence, and autonomy. 

At first, the feeling might be odd, even uncomfortable, not just from the sudden silence of external noise but from the internal clutter, as well. 

When the alarm goes off in the morning, she’ll make her way out of bed, moving through her mute space, pour some coffee, take a shower, get dressed, and leave for work—all without saying a word. Saying “goodbye” to a coworker before clocking out some evenings might be her voice’s grand finale for the night (at least with an audience). So long as she doesn’t work from home, like I. 

Her ordinary choices will be perceived and influenced by none other than her own heart and mind

Perhaps she’ll make an occasional call. But eventually, she’s thinking most of her thoughts aloud and becoming accustomed to constant background noise—classical music, television, or podcasts.

But what did she eat for breakfast? Anything? How much sugar did she add to her coffee with no one to judge? Was her shower a silent one? Or perhaps she rehearsed her monologue for the afternoon presentation. 

Talking and singing to herself won’t be the sole side effects of her sovereignty. Eventually, she’ll see its impact—subtly, at first, and then all at once. Her confidence, habits, and emotional regulation will become natural responses to her truest thoughts. 

When anxiety arises, she’ll find no distractions. She might look around, desperate for a reason to perform—but the room will be empty. When the inevitable sadness arrives unannounced, perhaps she’ll put on a romantic comedy. And possibly, this isn’t an unusual response. But the film she plays will be nothing other than a choice of her own. 

Her ordinary choices will be perceived and influenced by none other than her own heart and mind: what to eat for dinner; what song to sing in the shower; how long the shower will be. Maybe the lights will be off. Maybe a single candle will be lit. I wonder if the soundtrack will be Lana Del Rey’s voice or that of a self-honoring silence. 

And after that, who’s to say if she wears silk pajamas, a 10-year-old t-shirt, or nothing at all when she tucks herself into bed,  saying, “Sweet dreams, Self.”

Getting over the myth of loneliness

The weight of being alone is only a temporary feeling. And like any weight, picking it up often enough will strengthen the muscle of being alone. 

It’s only natural that the first moments of reclamation will look like an empty space, but as an anonymous (probably female) person once said, “Sometimes you need to be alone. Not to be lonely, but to enjoy your free time being yourself.”

It’s no secret that the same invisible weight can exist even when we’re among others. And in the opposite way, solitude can feel deeply fulfilling. In fact, in its truest form, the need to be seen and heard more often stems from the feeling of abandonment than state of solitude. Kent Nerburn wrote it well in Simple Truths:

“Loneliness is like sitting in an empty room and being aware of the space around you. It is a condition of separateness. Solitude is becoming one with the space around you. It is a condition of union.” 

This otherness is among the most feared states in modern life: feeling alone, eating alone, sleeping alone, dying alone. But so much of our activity is rooted in a thing so separate from ourselves and our true desires. Perhaps you’re exhausted, but among company at a party. Disengaged, but among company watching TV. Heartbroken, but among company, feeling worse. 

When you’re able to be alone, you can truly listen to yourself for a moment, hear what’s needed, and do that thing. Whether it includes, satisfies, or benefits another person mustn’t always be your concern. Only then will the company of yourself become more fulfilling than that of others. 

Living alone as a woman—when every season is your own 

Of course, much of this applies to everyone—but for women especially, living alone can be a rare and radical act of self prioritization, resisting the socialization that her life is only meaningful when making sacrifices for another. 

Is the purpose of life to enrich the lives of others? Possibly. Is it also a purpose of life to unapologetically enjoy your own? I’d like to think so. But if that’s too radical, perhaps begin with getting to know yourself, in the truest way—undistracted, uncoerced, unrestricted. Carve out a season of solitude, plant some seeds, and give yourself some room to grow. Because when the only person you’re living for is you, it’s wild what you’ll discover.

Besides, as I told my friend, living alone isn’t forever—unless she wants it to be. 

Recommended Reading:

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• Embrace Being a Loner—Why February Is the Perfect Time
• No Date? No Problem—A Guide to Dating Yourself in 2025
• 5 New Things I Want to Do Alone This Year
• How to Balance Solitude and a Social Life: A Dual Guide for Introverts & Extroverts

Isabel Ravenna is a journalist and editor-in-chief of The Ravenna Report. Her work—featured in National Geographic, Business Insider, Complex and SFGate—explores culture, history, identity, and the quiet revolutions we live every day.