Time to Just Be

There is a short little blurb in my companion journal, Write the River, that lets my readers know that they can use Chat. As I write that sentence, I feel the tension: I get it. I’ve had my run-ins with Chat-written student papers; I can hear the “non-soul” vs. “soul” in their writing.

But it’s here, and it’s probably not going away anytime soon. So rather than fight my students on it, at least currently (I’m giving myself permission to change my mind!)— I’ve decided to attempt to learn to use it ethically and thoughtfully. You can do the same if you want, and if you want to never look at a chat screen as long as you live, I respect you for it.

Rule Number One: I never let AI write for me. Ever.

Ever.

Ever.

And here’s the thing— it will ask. “Would you like me to write a sample paragraph of what that might look like?” My answer is always NO. In fact, I tell it straight out of the gate: I never want you to write for me. I may ask for help with editing and organization, but never write for me. Never change my sentences or add to my words.

It’s a computer, so it does what it’s told without emotional interference.

One of the biggest things I’ve found helpful is the fact that, because it has access to literally everything, it can “act as” something for me. Act as an editor of an indie publishing company and help me market this book. Act as a holistic nutritionist and help me refine my diet. Act as_________ fill in the blank.

When I can’t name something, when I can tell you all about it but I don’t know what that’s called— I ask it to name it for me. Just today, in fact, I did this:

Me: Random Q: What does it mean when you love having your family around, but you REALLY get a thrill when you're up earlier in the am than they are, or they all go on an afternoon adventure and leave you home alone? You're so happy to have a couple hours to yourself....but you wouldn't be as happy about it if they weren't around at all? What's that called?

Chat: What you’re describing is very common, and it usually points to a healthy balance between attachment and autonomy.

A few concepts overlap here:

• Introversion (or partial introversion):
  Not “disliking people,” but needing periods of low stimulation and solitude to mentally reset. Many people deeply love their families and still feel energized by quiet, uninterrupted time alone.

• Need for psychological space:
  Even in close relationships, humans generally need moments where no one is asking anything of them, watching them, needing decisions, conversation, or emotional bandwidth. That “ahhh” feeling when the house is quiet is often relief from constant cognitive load.

• Secure attachment:
  The interesting part of your description is: you enjoy being alone more because your people still exist nearby and will come back. That usually suggests security, not avoidance.
  You’re not fantasizing about permanent escape. You’re enjoying temporary freedom within a stable connection.

• Ambiversion / social saturation:
  Many people are socially happy up to a point. After enough interaction, even with loved ones, the nervous system wants recovery time.

There’s also a specific emotional flavor some people describe as:

“I love being near my people more than being constantly engaged with my people.”

That’s different from loneliness, resentment, or wanting isolation.

What you’re describing does not sound like:

• not loving your family,

• emotional detachment,

• selfishness,

• or secretly wanting to leave.

In fact, paradoxically, short periods of chosen solitude often make people more patient, affectionate, and present afterward.

A practical test:

• If the alone time leaves you refreshed and happy to reconnect afterward → healthy.

• If you increasingly dread everyone returning or feel trapped when they’re home → that points to burnout, overwhelm, or unmet needs.

But from your wording, this sounds more like:

“I love my life, and I also deeply value unclaimed mental space.”

That’s a pretty normal human configuration.

Okay, back to me now. Do you see how helpful that was? I highlighted the especially insightful sections in bold text. It is so easy to listen to the voice of blame and shame and regret— but if we’re armed with the truth of a situation, lies have a harder time getting a hold of our hearts. Ten years ago, I often felt guilty that I wanted quiet moments to myself. Now I know— quiet moments to recharge make me a better person (mom, wife, friend). I love my people— and I also “deeply value unclaimed mental space.”

I especially love how it highlighted the markers of burnout, overwhelm, and unmet needs. I’m not experiencing that, thankfully. But a lot of people do, and then they feel guilty for wanting healing time, when healing time is exactly what they need.

Madeline L’Engle says is so well: we need time to just be, without the pressure of constant doing. May you find that time, soon and often.