The second common reason for choosing solitude: trauma from past relationships.
Not all solitary people happily chose this path. Some came to it through pain.
But that doesn't make their choice less valid.
Anna's Story: Lawyer, 39, Kyiv
Anna survived an emotionally abusive relationship that lasted seven years.
"It wasn't physical violence," she recounts. "It was constant criticism, gaslighting, manipulation. I emerged from that relationship not knowing who I even was."
She went into therapy, recovered for three years.
"The therapist constantly asked: 'What do you want?' And I didn't know the answer. I had adapted to others' desires for so long that I'd forgotten my own."
Five years have passed since the breakup. Anna lives alone.
"I've been asked out. There were nice men. But every time a relationship started, I felt panic. That I would lose myself again."
She's not closed to love. But for now, she prefers the safety of solitude.
"People say: 'Not all men are like that.' I know. But I'm not ready to risk it. I'm good alone. Why enter a relationship again if I'm not sure?"
Protective Solitude
Psychologists from Stanford to the Sorbonne distinguish between two types of solitude by motivation:
Away-from motivation—running from something (toxic relationships, social pressure, trauma)Toward motivation—moving toward something (freedom, creativity, peace)
The first is considered "unhealthy," the second "healthy."
But I'm not sure this division is fair.
If someone has experienced toxic relationships and chooses solitude as protection—that's not pathology. That's self-preservation.
If someone flees from suffocating social pressure into seclusion—that's not weakness. That's strength.
James's Story: Teacher, 35, Melbourne
James grew up in a family where his parents divorced three times, constantly argued, manipulated the children.
"My childhood was endless conflict," he says. "Mom cried, Dad yelled, then partners changed, everything repeated."
He saw how "love" turned into war. How people hurt those they supposedly loved.
"I decided: I don't need this."
At 20, he dated a girl for two years. Everything was good. But when she talked about living together, he felt terror.
"I saw my parents before my eyes. I thought: 'Now everything's good, but in years we'll hate each other.'"
He ended the relationship. Since then, he hasn't dated anyone seriously.
"People say: 'You need to work through your trauma.' Maybe. But you know what? I'm not hurting now. I'm calm. Why should I 'work through' it to risk repeating my parents' mistakes again?"
The Right to Protection
Society expects people to "forgive," "open up again," "give a second chance."
But sometimes the healthiest decision is to say: "No. Enough."
Protective solitude is not cowardice. It's wisdom.