Solitude or Connection. How Do You Recharge?

Or a bit of both?

Perimenopause has taught me a lot. Some of it gentle. Some of it like a brick to the head.

One of the most surprising lessons? How much noise affects me now. Not just the loud kind, but the constant hum of being on all the time. Questions. Clutter. Notifications. Movement. People in your space. Even the people you love.

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When we had our unexpected extended holiday in Bali (which sounds dreamy, and mostly was except for the medical emergency, I promise that story is coming), I realised just how overstimulated I get when I can’t step away. Fourteen extra days in tropical paradise? Yes please. But also, I cannot be around my family 24/7. I love them. I just also love not hearing them for a while.

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That’s where tools like noise-cancelling headphones and separate bedrooms saved me. To be honest, I don’t even always turn them on. Just wearing them signals to the world, and to myself, that I need a moment. A pause. A boundary.

Over the last 12 months, I’ve started paying a lot more attention to the balance between demands and capacity. I did a sensory profile in therapy, which helped explain so much of what I’d been feeling. Turns out, I’m not introverted. I’m sensitive to stimulation. And perimenopause? It dials everything up.

I know I’m not introverted. I genuinely love people, connection, conversation. But I also know that masking, that subtle (or not so subtle) pressure to show up a certain way, can absolutely drain me.

That’s why I’ve started identifying more as an ambivert, someone who moves between extroverted and introverted tendencies depending on the context and energy levels.

Every time I do a Myers-Briggs test, I come out as ENFP; that’s Extraverted, Intuitive, Feeling, Perceiving. It’s known as “the Campaigner” or “the Inspirer,” someone driven by ideas, connection, and purpose. But interestingly, ENFPs are often considered the most introvert-like of the extroverts.

We crave meaningful connection but also deeply need time alone to recharge, think, and process. It makes sense now, but for a long time, I didn’t understand why being social could leave me feeling so depleted.

Turns out, it's not about being an introvert or extrovert. It's about knowing when you're full and when you're running on empty. And learning how to honour that, without guilt.

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Sometimes what I need is a genuine, easy, no-work connection. A hike, a swim, a deep conversation that feels like a soul massage.

And other times, what I need is to retreat. To close the door. To have no one talking to me or even near me. Just the space to come back to myself.

I read a post recently by a friend who has been trialing living in shared housing with another family. They’ve learned to talk about boundaries and energy batteries up front. To be radically honest about what each person needs in order to function well. Some recharge through togetherness. Some through space. And they’re teaching their kids to recognise those needs too. What a gift.

It made me think. How many of us were never taught that needing space isn’t rejection? That taking alone time isn’t selfish, it’s self-responsibility?

Perimenopause can be an initiation of sorts. A bit of a personal reckoning. It peels back the old patterns and asks: What do you actually need now?
What do you want to bring with you into this next stage?
What needs to be left behind?

For me, the answer keeps coming back to this.

I need both solitude and connection. But only the kind that nourishes.

No more forcing, faking, or pushing through.

So now I ask myself often, and maybe this is a question worth sharing:

How do I recharge today?
Do I need a circle or a cocoon?
Do I need to reach out or retreat?

And most importantly, do I give myself permission to choose?

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