The Art of Living Alone and Loving It

Have you ever wondered what your life would feel like if solitude wasn’t a curse—but a source of freedom, creativity, and power? In The Art of Living Alone and Loving It, Jane Mathews flips society’s assumptions about lone living on its head. She argues that living alone can be one of life’s richest experiences—a period of self-discovery, empowerment, and joy—if you embrace it intentionally. Instead of seeing solitude as synonymous with sadness, Mathews invites you to treat it as a profound opportunity: to create a life that reflects your true self, without apology.

Mathews’ central claim is that living well alone is not about enduring isolation but curating your life with deliberation. She contends that solo living is both an art and a discipline. It requires effort, mental strength, and practical wisdom—skills that can turn what might feel like an unexpected setback (a breakup, divorce, or loss) into a gateway for transformation. Through vivid anecdotes from her own life and insights from philosophy, psychology, and practical living, she shows how solitude can help you become self-reliant, creative, financially independent, and deeply in touch with who you really are.

Why This Book Matters

We live in a world obsessed with coupledom—where forms ask whether you’re “married,” “divorced,” or “widowed,” but never reward the state of being happily single. Mathews challenges these norms. She reminds her readers that living alone is the fastest-growing demographic in modern societies: millions choose to do so, and millions more will end up doing so by circumstance. Yet cultural scripts still treat solo living as failure or tragedy, particularly for women. Mathews claims it’s time to rewrite those scripts entirely.

From her Sydney home with her dog Rory, Mathews takes readers through every dimension of solo life—mental resilience, relationships, health, finances, home, and personal rituals—each a toolkit for flourishing independently. The goal? To stop living by yourself and start living with yourself.

A Map Through the Solitary Landscape

The book unfolds as a roadmap through ten dimensions of independent living. It begins with a philosophical reframing of solitude, helping you see the freedom embedded in it. Then it explores mental strength—what Mathews calls the “tools to keep you strong,” from setting daily rituals to transforming loneliness into purposeful solitude. She moves through relationships—both the internal one you hold with yourself and external connections with family, friends, and potential romantic partners—explaining how living alone can refine empathy and self-worth rather than diminish them.

In later chapters, Mathews tackles practical domains: health, home, cooking, finances, travel, and spirituality. These sections are full of pragmatic advice (“Be your own CEO,” “Treat your body like a business,” “Curate an action board”). She distills wisdom from other thinkers—Aristotle, Suze Orman, Thích Nhat Hanh, and even Oprah—and translates their philosophies into vivid, everyday rituals.

From Survival to Mastery

Mathews’ tone is especially powerful because it combines empathy with humor. She describes the real challenges—killing cockroaches alone, fixing a leaky tap, eating solo dinners, facing holidays without company—but always reframes them as steps toward self-mastery. Her overarching message? Living alone is an active life skill. It demands discipline, creativity, and courage, but also rewards you with freedom, confidence, and pride. Every soloist, she argues, is part of a mighty tribe: courageous individuals who redefine independence for a new era.

A Philosophy of Choice

Ultimately, The Art of Living Alone and Loving It is about choice. You can live in regret and isolation, mourning the partnership that didn’t happen—or you can embrace this new state as a chance to design a life exactly the way you want it. Mathews insists that freedom, creativity, and authenticity are the soloist’s greatest gifts. Solitude, when cherished, becomes your sanctuary and stage. It allows you not just to survive—but to thrive magnificently in your own company.

Across its pages, Mathews dismantles stereotypes, builds practical habits, and rekindles your inner fire to live alone with confidence and grace. She invites every reader—whether recently single, long-time independent, or simply curious about solitude—to turn living alone into not just an act of independence, but an act of self-love.

How do you stay emotionally grounded when your home falls silent? Jane Mathews tackles this head-on, claiming that mental strength is at the heart of thriving alone. Living solo, she reminds us, is not for the faint-hearted—it tests your resilience daily, through tiny moments of frustration, sadness, or self-doubt. But instead of surrendering to loneliness, Mathews teaches you how to stare it down and reshape it into the more beautiful state of solitude.

The Tools for Emotional Resilience

Mathews offers twelve tools for navigating the mental landscape of solo life. These range from practical—such as keeping rituals and writing affirmations—to spiritual, such as claiming totems of resilience (a lioness, a wild dog, a bison). Her first step is deceptively simple: choose who you want to be. Pick three adjectives—perhaps calm, brave, and curious—and hold them as daily anchors. With these, you craft an intentional identity and act accordingly. “Act like the person you want to become,” she writes, “and eventually you are that person.”

She then stresses accountability. You can’t control what happens around you, but you can control your reaction. Borrowing from Stoic philosophy and modern psychology alike, she reminds readers that every irritation—a late bill, a friend’s thoughtless comment—becomes training for emotional mastery. When frustrations strike, imagine holding up a mirrored shield to reflect negativity back. It’s about keeping power within, not letting others take it away.

Staring Loneliness Down

Mathews describes loneliness as a sneaky shape-shifter—it masquerades as apathy, exhaustion, melancholy. But she argues that loneliness is normal, not fatal. Every person who lives alone feels its sting; the trick is to surrender and move through it. She points to the philosopher Paul Tillich, who said, “Loneliness expresses the pain of being alone, solitude the glory of being alone.” Your goal is to turn one into the other. By recasting isolation as choice, you pull power back into your hands.

To fight loneliness, she recommends an “anti-loneliness toolkit”—listening to favorite TED talks, learning something new on YouTube, volunteering, going for walks, or finishing small tasks that build momentum. Martha Beck’s notion that “time alone is the greatest gift you can give yourself” echoes across this chapter. Solitude becomes not a punishment but a creative space.

Finding Your Ikigai: Purpose as Medicine

Beyond emotional control, Mathews encourages you to find your ikigai—a Japanese concept meaning “reason to get up in the morning.” Purpose, she argues, annihilates loneliness because it gives your days meaning. Drawing on Ken Robinson’s Finding Your Element, she provides practical exercises to identify passions and turn them into life goals. Whether you’re learning calligraphy or starting a blog, doing anything that stirs purpose turns isolation into optimism.

Transform Fear into Choice

The culmination of Mathews’ mental strength philosophy is radical accountability: living alone means owning both your emotions and your destiny. Instead of asking “why” things happen, ask “how can I fix it?” Replace complaint with curiosity. Instead of “I can’t,” say “I’m working toward.” This shift, she argues, creates momentum. Solitude becomes an arena for transformation, and you become, in her words, “the master of your fate—the captain of your soul.”

(Note: Mathews repeatedly references William Ernest Henley’s poem “Invictus,” which Nelson Mandela recited during his imprisonment. Its message—self-mastery, courage, resilience—forms the spiritual backbone of her philosophy that living alone is not weakness but unconquerable independence.)

In a world designed for couples, Jane Mathews reframes relationships for those living alone. Her ranking—yourself first, then family, friends, romance, and your community—captures her philosophy that self-respect is the cornerstone of connection. She writes candidly about the paradox of solo relationships: they can make you feel more isolated, yet more discerning and authentic than ever.

The Relationship with Yourself

Everything begins here. Mathews insists that you must not just tolerate yourself—but actively like who you are. She encourages self-kindness: keep a “self-esteem scrapbook” of compliments and gratitude notes from others to read on gray days. Talk to yourself as you would to a best friend. Be realistic about expectations—lower emotional hurdles so you can succeed more often. Remember, she warns, that self-care must not slide into narcissism. Loving yourself is strength; self-absorption is dullness.

Family and Forgiveness

Family relationships, she admits, are tricky. They can be sources of comfort or guilt. Mathews urges soloists to make an effort; don’t let silence or pride fracture bonds. Her own regret—years of not speaking to her sister before her death—underscores this plea. Learning your ancestry, she adds, can deepen self-understanding: your story is never isolated; it’s nested in generations. Forgiveness, however, must be deliberate. She beautifully cites Zalman Schacter-Shalomi’s metaphor: refusing to forgive is like locking your enemy in prison and appointing yourself as jailer—you both stay trapped.

Friends: Your Safety Net and Mirror

Mathews describes friendships as “gardens to be tended.” They need care—and occasional weeding. Be discerning: keep “radiators,” remove “drains.” Friends who undermine your confidence don’t belong in your circle. She recounts how some friends drifted away after her divorce because her single status unsettled them—a reminder that independence can threaten the insecure. Strong friendships, by contrast, are built on empathy and shared curiosity. She offers practical habits: writing quarterly emails to distant friends, hosting themed dinners monthly, and keeping a personal “friend map” of people to nurture. These actions create depth and belonging.

Romance and Redefinition

Mathews approaches romance with humor and realism. After divorce, she accepted the possibility of lifelong singleness without despair. “A man—or woman—is the icing, not the cake,” she writes. She critiques society’s obsession with happy endings and warns against dating “for the sake of it.” Still, she encourages openness: connection can bloom unexpectedly at concerts, classes, or dog parks. She references Sasha Cagan’s concept of the “Quirkyalone”—someone who values romance but refuses mediocrity. Better to be happily single than unhappily coupled.

Your Village and Companions

The circle widens to neighbors and pets. Mathews highlights the beauty of building local ties—your “village.” Knowing a few local faces makes everyday life warmer and safer. She even describes entering her dog Rory in a costume contest (“Sherlock Bones”) as a way to bond with neighbors. Pets, she insists, shouldn’t replace human relationships but can offer joyful companionship. Caring for another creature builds empathy and structure.

The thread through all these relationships is self-worth. When you live alone, the way you treat yourself determines how others treat you. Mathews challenges you to become a “poster child for solo living”—not by seeking pity, but by radiating confidence, kindness, and authenticity. Love yourself first, and the world will follow suit.

Physical and mental health, Jane Mathews emphasizes, are the foundation of independence. Without them, freedom collapses. Living alone means becoming your own advocate and caretaker—the CEO of your body. Her health philosophy intertwines mindset, nutrition, physical fitness, mental strength, and survival tactics. In short, self-care becomes self-reliance.

Creating a Personal Health Plan

Mathews suggests treating health like a strategic business plan, with clear goals and measurable outcomes. Write down your baseline stats—blood pressure, cholesterol, weight—then create action steps for improvement. She divides the plan into five parts: mindset, nutrition, physical health, mental health, and facts. Each part begins with honesty. “I am tired of being tired,” she writes. “I ache not to ache.” This self-audit becomes the turning point for change.

Mindset and Motivation

Success starts in the mind. Borrowing from sports psychology, Mathews encourages you to build rituals of motivation—anchor images, daily mantras, and micro-goals. “Every journey begins with a single step,” she notes. She reframes “I have to” into “I choose to.” This linguistic shift converts obligation into empowerment. Health is a choice, not a punishment.

Nutrition as Self-Respect

Food is the purest act of self-care. Mathews asks you to imagine your body as a fish in a dirty tank—clean the water, and health returns. Whole foods, colors, and variety matter most. She quotes Ayurvedic wisdom: “When diet is correct, medicine is of no need.” Her pragmatic tip: shop the outer rim of the supermarket where real food lives. Build a folder of recipes that nourish rather than “soothe.” Every bite, she says, is a vote for your vitality.

Exercise: Your Independence Insurance

Exercise isn’t vanity—it’s autonomy insurance. Drawing from Chris Crowley’s Younger Next Year, she insists that regular movement keeps decay at bay. The simplest routine—walk 10,000 steps, stretch, do small strength work—is enough to transform how you feel. Design your environment to prompt action: sneakers by the door, workout playlist ready, reminders in sight. Every bit of activity becomes a vote for freedom in later life.

Mental Health: Guarding the Mind’s Flame

When you live alone, Mathews warns, you must monitor your mental landscape vigilantly. Self-awareness is your best therapist. She cites Harvard Medical School’s tips for keeping sharp—keep learning, use all senses, repeat information, and believe you can grow. Depression, she concedes, can slip in silently, so reach out early and cultivate meaning through community and purpose. She aligns this with Dan Buettner’s “Blue Zones” research: people with a sense of purpose live seven years longer. Find something to love, and you’ll be healthy longer.

Through her candid humor (“No one will wipe your bottom until you’re good and ready”), Mathews makes health deeply personal. It’s not about perfection—it’s about responsibility. You are both caretaker and patient, coach and client. Health, she insists, is not just survival—it’s the physical vocabulary of independence.

Being self-funded, Jane Mathews says, is as vital as being self-reliant. Money is not merely numbers—it’s autonomy. When you live alone, finances become your backbone. No shared rent, no partner’s income, no fallback. Her approach to finance is practical yet empowering: manage money not with fear, but with curiosity and control.

Facing the Numbers

Mathews starts with reality checks: most single women are financially vulnerable, earn less, and outlive men. She lists sobering statistics—over 40% of retired single women live below the poverty line. But she flips these numbers into a call to action. Build a Financial Blueprint, she insists—a twelve-step roadmap that covers everything from mindset and budgeting to investing, documentation, and action.

Your Financial Blueprint: Think and Do

The first half of her Blueprint targets mindset. Treat money as an extension of self-worth: the way you manage finances mirrors how much you value yourself. She quotes Suze Orman, “If we aren’t powerful with money, we aren’t powerful.” Start by defining what matters to you—security, travel, creativity—and align spending with those values.

The second half covers action. Budget—honestly. Track income and expenses with apps or spreadsheets. Know exactly what you spend. Then eliminate waste: Mathews calls it fighting the “lazy tax”—rolling over insurance or subscriptions without checking for better deals. Save before spending and build an emergency fund equivalent to 3–6 months’ expenses. Treat debt like an invasive species: eradicate it.

Educate and Empower

Financial literacy, Mathews argues, is liberation. She recommends The Barefoot Investor by Scott Pape as a guide, praising its clarity and Australian specificity. Learn the basics of superannuation, insurance, and investing. Simplify banking. Ask questions fearlessly. No one will care about your money as much as you do.

Investing and Legacy

She distinguishes saving from investing: savings protect, investing grows. Decide your risk level—whether conservative (interest-bearing accounts, safe property) or active (shares and business). Invest with long-term vision—passive income means freedom in later years. “Without passive income,” she quotes T. Harv Eker, “you can never be free.”

Finally, get your affairs in order. Organize wills, power of attorney, document folders, passwords, and insurance details. Back up your computer—and your sanity. Financial order is emotional order. “Finance,” Mathews concludes, “is the last frontier of independence.”

(Much like the health chapter, this section reads as a manifesto for sovereignty—money as the architecture of autonomy. When your finances reflect self-respect, living alone stops being precarious and becomes powerful.)

Your home, Mathews writes, is your sanctuary and mirror. When you live alone, its atmosphere directly shapes your wellbeing. She invites you to design a space that loves you back—not through extravagance but through intention. “Look around your home with fresh eyes,” she says, “are you proud of what you see?” If not, adjust, beautify, and infuse it with energy.

Home as Self-Expression

Every item and corner reflects your internal life. From paint color to flower vase, each choice can restore joy. She suggests conducting a “TV home tour” of your space—pretend you’re filming a segment and describe each room. Which parts make you light up? Which make you cringe? This exercise clarifies what needs reinvention.

Designing for Energy and Flow

Mathews introduces the concept of “desire paths”—borrowed from urban planning to describe natural human shortcuts. Translate that to your home: arrange objects where you naturally reach for them. If you always make tea by the window, put favorite mugs there. Shape space around behavior, not aesthetics. She quotes William Morris: “Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful.”

Room by Room Intentions

Mathews walks through each key room. Bedrooms should feel luxurious—your private base camp, not “second best.” Use fine linens, fresh flowers, soft light. Kitchens must hum with life; cleanliness equals self-respect. Bathrooms, she declares, are temples of renewal—keep magnifying mirrors, candles, and bubble baths. Living rooms must showcase items that have earned their place—creativity over clutter. A beautiful home elevates your self-esteem daily.

Maintenance as Mindfulness

Practical upkeep underpins emotional peace. She recommends dedicating weekly “guest-ready” clean-ups, fixing issues before they escalate, and mastering DIY basics. Safety—the locks, lights, and alarms—must give confidence, not anxiety. Routine maintenance becomes a ritual of control.

Home, she reminds us, is not just shelter—it’s agency. A beautiful space whispers: “You belong here.” The solo home, designed consciously, becomes an external expression of inward grace. As Oprah put it, “Your home should rise up to meet you.”

Jane Mathews believes solo experiences—travel, dining, holidays—hold transformative power. They teach confidence, awaken curiosity, and reveal who you are when no one’s watching. Her mantra: “Don’t look—see. Don’t hear—listen.” The chapter encourages you to break social scripts and claim solo public life as thrilling, not tragic.

Travel as Self-Discovery

Mathews calls travel “the ultimate test of how much you like yourself.” Alone in foreign cities, you become both explorer and mirror. Her detailed guides—packing lists, safety tips, mindset practices—turn anxiety into adventure. She recommends slow mornings and unhurried afternoons. Eating market food on a bench can be as rich as visiting monuments. Travel solo not as escape, but as investigation of self. (Comparable to Cheryl Strayed’s Wild in emotional spirit.)

Eating Alone Without Apology

Dining solo, she admits, once intimidated her. But “solomangarephobia,” the fear of eating alone, fades with practice. She suggests choosing seats near open kitchens, ordering two starters, and savoring each bite deeply. Bring a book or notebook instead of a phone; restaurant solitude becomes meditation. Tokyo’s Moomin Café may seat singles with toy companions, but Mathews prefers the quiet power of sitting proudly alone.

Navigating Holidays and Boredom

Her Christmas strategy is brilliant: celebrate deliberately. Buy yourself gifts, cook special meals, schedule joy. Avoid pity parties—volunteer, write, swim, or rest. New Year’s Eve? Ignore the forced revelry; peace is the new luxury. When boredom strikes, she calls it “creative incubation.” Have an anti-boredom box of small projects—clean drawers, learn a poem, write letters. Stillness, she says, births creativity.

The Digital Balance

Mathews criticizes over-connection. Too much scrolling, she warns, erodes self-awareness. She applauds digital detoxes and “The Gin Tub,” a bar that blocks phone signals. True presence—in cinema, travel, or conversation—beats constant broadcasting. Experience life directly, not through a screen.

Her closing reminder: doing things alone isn’t lesser—it’s liberation training. When you learn to dine, travel, and celebrate by yourself, you stop asking for permission to live freely. You become, in her words, “a trapeze artist without a safety net—yet flying higher than ever.”

Towards the end, Mathews explores a subtler facet of solo life: spirituality. She frames it not as dogma or ritual, but as the art of listening inwardly. Living alone provides space to turn silence into revelation. “Spirituality,” she writes, “feeds your courage and wisdom—the internal well you draw from when life grows hard.”

Defining Spirituality

For Mathews, spirituality is awareness of connection: between you, nature, and others. She rejects pretension and “bullshit spirituality,” seeking practical enlightenment you can live daily. True spirituality, she says, happens when you breathe consciously, dwell in silence, or notice beauty. Sara Maitland’s meditations in A Book of Silence and Thích Nhat Hanh’s mindful breathing weave through her vision.

Practices of Stillness and Insight

She recommends morning meditations or “Four Pebbles”—holding stones that symbolize freshness, solidity, calm, and freedom. These tactile rituals make spirituality physical. Walking labyrinths, watching dawn skies, or forest bathing all reconnect you to presence. “The quieter you are,” she writes, “the louder intuition speaks.” Listen to that inner voice—it’s as sacred as prayer.

Facing Grief and Mortality

Solo living often confronts death starkly—parents gone, partners absent. Mathews faces it unflinchingly, turning grief into gratitude. She quotes an anonymous reflection comparing loss to waves that subside with time; scars, she notes, prove that love existed. Citing Irvin Yalom (Staring at the Sun), she says awareness of mortality intensifies life’s quality. When you accept death, you finally learn to live.

For Mathews, spirituality is less religion, more rhythm: morning silence, gratitude rituals, acts of kindness, moments of synchronicity. You don’t need a church or guru—just mindfulness and compassion. Alone, she assures, you can still feel connected to everything. Solitude becomes sacred space.