My Happy Place: A Table for One

I like sitting alone at lunch at work.

If you’d told twelve-year-old me this, she’d probably look horrified. 

What?

Sitting alone?

How sad. Why don’t you have any friends? 

But honestly? I love it.

Sometimes I’ve got my phone; sometimes I’m just staring into the abyss, preferably near a window.

There’s something deeply satisfying about a table with a view, as if the outside world is part of the lunch break.

I talk a lot for work. Calls, meetings, more calls. But it’s exhausting. Soul-draining, actually. And sometimes, I just want to not…just for a bit.

It reminds me of when I was little. Baby Audrey loved nothing more than sitting in a corner, doing a puzzle by herself - real introverted vibes.

It was bliss. Of course, as adults, we project all sorts of narratives onto our childhood selves, but I’m pretty sure I was just very, very happy being left alone.

Then life happened. Growth mindsets. Social norms. The endless push to “put yourself out there.”

And, credit where it’s due, I did it. I pushed myself. I became more open. I went to New York. Extroverted Audrey emerged.

She does a great job. But she’s also so tired. And sometimes she just needs to sit down alone, and stare into the abyss.

Lunch at work is great for that.

No expectations, no agenda. And don’t get me wrong, if someone wants to sit next to me, that’s fine. I’m not an antisocial gremlin.

But there’s something I just love about finding an empty table where I can just…be.

Heaven.

Today was one of those days. I looked around and noticed something heartwarming. There were other people doing it too. Some on their phones. Some just staring, like me.

Maybe they wanted company. Maybe they were sad. But maybe, just maybe, they’re my tribe. The perfect tribe. The tribe that doesn’t want anything to do with me. Ha!

And isn’t that beautiful?

No noise, no forced small talk.

Maybe it’s because the world is so noisy, or maybe it’s something deeper.

Who knows?

Who cares?

Sitting alone at lunch is my happy place.

It’s restorative, it’s calm, and it’s mine.

And if this sounds sad to twelve-year-old me, well, that’s fine.

She didn’t have meetings!