I didn’t exactly aspire to live like a cryptid in a hoodie, but as someone with Avoidant Personality Disorder (AvPD), the idea of not being around people began to feel less like isolation and more like liberation. Living as a recluse isn’t just a coping mechanism, it’s a lifestyle. A surprisingly peaceful, often underrated one.
I do think it would be nice, in an ideal world, to have close friends, a partner, or family around. But that kind of life also brings its share of heartache, and honestly, even without my AvPD traits, I sometimes feel like I’d still choose to stay away from all the fuss and emotional noise. Life comes with pain no matter what, but for me, living solo, even with its downsides, feels like the lesser evil.
Here’s why living as a recluse might actually be the best choice you never meant to make:
🧘♀️ Peace And Quiet
No group chats blowing up. No spontaneous FaceTime calls. No “Let’s catch up!” from people who never listened the first time. Just stillness, calm, and the sweet sound of no one.
🗣️ No Emotional Vampires
You know who I’m talking about. People who mistake your ears for a stage and your trauma for audience participation. They never ask you how you are—unless it’s to segue into something about themselves. Recluses skip this nonsense by opting out entirely.
The harsh truth? Most people aren’t interested in connecting. They’re just monologuing at mirrors. You’re just there to nod.
📢 No Screechy Pub Chatter
No more standing in sticky bars listening to someone you barely know scream-laugh about their trip to Ibiza like it’s a TED Talk. Loud people in loud places trying to out-volume each other while the bassline competes with your will to live? No thanks. I’d rather talk to a tree.
At least the tree won’t tell me I “seem kind of intense.”
💤 No More Ten-Minute Sentences
You know the ones—those people who take ten minutes to tell you they forgot their umbrella, including backstory, weather updates, and three tangents. Living as a recluse means never pretending that story was worth the time. You get to protect your brain from narrative inflation.
😌 Emotional Safety
No rejection. No weird vibes. No aftermath of oversharing and lying in bed at 2am replaying everything you said with Olympic-level shame. Living as a recluse is like wearing an emotional seatbelt 24/7.
💔 No Romantic Chaos
No more waiting three hours to reply to look “cool.” No breadcrumbing. No crying over someone who said “lol” when you poured your heart out. Honestly, romance in the digital age is like competitive vulnerability – and I’m not interested in playing.
🌾 The Grass Isn’t Always Greener
Yes, it gets lonely. Yes, sometimes you wonder what it’d be like to be one of those people with brunch plans and a shared Netflix account. But here’s the truth: being surrounded by people doesn’t fix the ache. It just gives it new costumes—arguments, misunderstandings, social exhaustion, emotional landmines. Loneliness isn’t cured by noise.
👕 Goblin Mode Chic
No dress codes. No tight jeans. No makeup. No checking if your top is see-through in bright light. Just oversized t-shirts with food stains, mismatched socks, and cat fur so embedded in your clothes it’s practically a pattern. You are the moment.
🐾 Animals Over People
Animals don’t interrupt you. They don’t ghost you. They don’t make you second-guess your value. Living as a recluse means quality time with creatures who love you unconditionally and would never send a cryptic one-word reply or passive aggressive “k” texts.
📚 Time For Weird Interests
No judgment for your fifth reread of a 600-page true crime book. No “that’s kinda dark, are you okay?” comments about your hobby. Living as a recluse means the freedom to dive deep into anything that fascinates you, without commentary.
🚪 Built-In Exit Plan
You’re already home. You don’t need an excuse to leave. You don’t have to fake a cough, pretend your cat’s sick, or sneak out the back. You’re where you want to be: unbothered, unjudged, uninvited.
So, Can We Stop Pretending Reclusiveness Is A Tragedy?
Reclusiveness isn’t a symptom of failure – it’s often a sign of clarity. Of choosing self-preservation over constant anxiety. Of finally accepting that you don’t owe your presence to a society that doesn’t know what to do with sensitivity.
If touching a hot stove burns you every time, eventually you stop touching it. That’s not irrational; it’s adaptive. If every attempt at closeness ends in disappointment, judgment, or abandonment, then avoidance starts to look a lot like wisdom.
What if AvPD is just an intelligent, if painful, strategy for survival in a world that too often fails to handle emotional depth?
Further Reading And Resources
Modern-Day Hermits Share Their Experiences
A collection of firsthand accounts from individuals who have chosen reclusive lifestyles.
Helen Oyeyemi on Embracing Reclusiveness
Author Helen Oyeyemi discusses her journey toward accepting reclusiveness as a valid way of living.
The North Pond Hermit: Christopher Knight’s 27 Years in Solitude
The story of Christopher Knight, who lived alone in the Maine woods for 27 years.
The Hermit of Treig: Ken Smith’s Highland Isolation
A documentary about Ken Smith’s 40 years living in isolation in the Scottish Highlands.
Agafia Lykova: A Life in the Siberian Taiga
The life of Agafia Lykova, who lived her entire life in remote Siberia.
The Pros and Cons of Living a Reclusive Life
A deep dive into the benefits and challenges of choosing a reclusive lifestyle.
Urban Hermit: A Different Way of Being in the World
A reflection on embracing solitude in urban spaces and the art of being a recluse.