I came across an interesting quote this morning by the French writer known simply as Colette: “There are days when solitude is a heady wine that intoxicates you with freedom, others when it is a bitter tonic, and still others when it is a poison that makes you beat your head against the wall.”
What’s interesting to me about this quote is that, although solitude was an issue with her, it isn’t for me. She died almost 75 years ago, so obviously, the times were different. Today I’m not sure there is such a thing as a poisonous solitude that makes one want to beat one’s head against the wall. We are all just fingertips away from connecting with the world, and if not that, then we’re just minutes away from a store where for the price of a loaf of bread, we can talk to a checkout clerk for a few minutes.
Admittedly, I am minimizing her pain, but I don’t feel that solitude is a big issue — not for me, anyway. I have people I can call or go visit, I can take a walk or work in my garden where people tend to find me. So solitude by itself isn’t a bitter tonic or a poison. Nor is it the heady wine she speaks of. It just is the way I’ve ordered my life (or perhaps the way life ordered me).
Loneliness, on the other hand, can be a bitter tonic if not poisonous, since it doesn’t have an easy fix. I mean, just by going out among people you can cure solitude, because even if you don’t know the people, you’re not solitary anymore. But loneliness isn’t as easy as being around people because one can be lonely in a crowd. One can also be lonely for a particular person, and if that person isn’t around, then the loneliness can be agonizing for sure.
Solitary and lonely — that’s not a good combination, though I tend to think it’s the loneliness that’s the problem, not the aloneness, but then, what do I know. I don’t often get lonely anymore since I am used to Jeff being gone. I am also solitary by nature, though if I am visiting with someone, I can be as garrulous and as sociable as those who prefer to wrap a peopled world around themselves.
I know some of you are lonely, though perhaps not solitary. Others are both lonely and solitary. Life can be bitter for those who have lost the one person that made their life a more loving and friendly place to be, so I don’t want you to think I’m diminishing your pain.
I’m just . . . thinking.
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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One
Bertram's Blog 
May 11, 2026 at 10:02 am
Loneliness versus aloneness can be a complicated study. I’ve never been truly alone, and I don’t think I’ve ever been truly lonely either. I’m a ‘loner’ by nature — very much an introvert who prefers to avoid group situations when I can.
The problem is that I can’t. My chosen lifestyle dictates frequent involvement with people at assorted gatherings. Through the years it’s been a ‘grin-and-bear-it’ situation and I’ve (mostly) learned how to deal with it.
May 11, 2026 at 10:36 am
It’s hard to have to be what you aren’t. But then, sometimes, you become what you weren’t just for survival. I guess it comes down to our doing the best we can.
May 11, 2026 at 10:38 am
Very true. And I wouldn’t trade my choice of husband for a different lifestyle. 🙂
May 11, 2026 at 11:30 am
Lovely!!
May 11, 2026 at 10:28 am
lonely in my solitude
May 11, 2026 at 10:37 am
I was thinking of you when I wrote those last couple of paragraphs. It’s hard being somewhere you don’t want to be, and to be without the person you want to be with.
May 11, 2026 at 3:20 pm
How right you are.
May 12, 2026 at 4:50 am
I think bringing forth the difference between solitude and lonliness is helpful to my perspective. I need solitude to center myself…enjoy myself with art, reading and writing. Lonliness for me can be fixed with a few outings per week with a friend or two to whom I’m close. I have no desire for groups or “chit chat”. Deeper connection loss because of my husband’s death is a grief I tend to mostly with grace because eleven years have passed. Grandchildren have given me relief from the lonliness of “what do I mean to somebody.” ….sometimes.
May 12, 2026 at 8:30 am
It seems that it’s all about balance — balancing the solitude and loneliness, balancing the pain of grief with the need to continue to mean something, balancing loss with finding a way to continue.
I like the way you phrase it: tending your grief with grace.