Off the coast of the Outer Hebrides, I remembered how life-sustaining space is.

I’d scurried away from the bustling port of Stornoway—past the incoming coaches, the chatter, the itinerary—and found myself wandering toward the soft green quiet of the castle grounds. A few seals bobbed in the water nearby. No plans. No noise. Just space.

I’m here on holiday with a close friend, and today we’ve parted ways for a few hours. Not because anything’s wrong. Simply because I needed to power back up.

It’s taken me years to understand that this is not a problem to fix—this is part of who I am.

The Myth of “Too Much Time Alone”

I’ve always needed space.

It’s how I process. How I regulate. How I reset enough to have compassion and patience for others. But it’s only now, in my 30s, that I’m learning to ask for it without apology.

For a long time, I thought my preference for solitude was a flaw.

Something to hide or soften. I kept finding myself surrounded by people who needed connection to feel safe—while I needed stillness to feel whole.

It’s not a matter of right or wrong. Just different wiring.

✦ Have you ever felt guilty for needing space, even when nothing was “wrong”?

Attachment Styles & the Space Spectrum

When I learned about attachment styles, everything clicked into place.

My fearful-avoidant style meant I often craved connection deeply—but would pull away just as quickly. I needed reassurance and independence at the same time. It’s confusing to live in that space—and sometimes even harder to explain to others.

But learning this helped me see myself with more understanding and compassion. My need for space these days isn’t about avoidance or pushing people away—it is about refuelling.

✦ What would it feel like to honour your need for space without apology?

Brains on Space: What Science Says

From a neurological perspective, space is not a luxury—it’s a biological necessity.

When we’re constantly engaged, our nervous systems remain in a state of low-grade stress. But when we enter stillness—even briefly—our cortisol levels drop, and our prefrontal cortex (the part responsible for decision-making and calm thinking) lights up.

Space gives the brain room to wander. To imagine. To be.

This is the essence of slow living: creating time and space to actually live in your life, not just pass through it.

✦ What does your body feel like when it’s over-connected?

Space as Support: What my Neurodivergent Brain has Taught me

I share many traits common among neurodivergent folks—especially the need for decompression. For me (and for many others), space isn’t just a preference—it’s regulation. It’s survival. It’s the moment the world stops spinning quite so fast.

There’s a growing understanding in the research that brains wired a little differently, like those with ADHD, autism, or sensory sensitivities, often need more time, more room, and more quiet to process the world. Bright lights, noise, unpredictability—these things can flood the nervous system. So we seek space: physical space, sensory space, emotional space. Not to escape life, but to stay present in it.

Women Who Wander (But Not Too Far?)

Society doesn’t always love a woman who takes space.

I often catch myself saying, “Take as much space as you need,” in almost every session I have with women, as a gentle reminder that it’s not just okay to claim space, it’s essential.

We’re often expected to be emotionally available, constantly engaged, endlessly giving. And when we opt out? When we say, “Actually, I need a few hours alone”? Guilt creeps in. Judgment too.

As someone who’s childfree by choice, I notice the way this expectation lingers—this unspoken idea that if you’re not caregiving, you should be constantly available. As though your time only has value when it’s being given away.

But slow living pushes back on this. It says: your time is yours. Your energy is yours. You’re allowed to pause.

✦ If no one was watching, what kind of space would you claim for yourself?

White Space Isn’t Wasted Space

In design, white space is what makes a layout work. It’s not “nothing”—it’s what gives meaning to everything else. Without it, things feel cluttered and chaotic.

Life works the same way.

White space might look like a day off, a blank afternoon, or a moment where you do absolutely nothing—and feel no guilt for it. It’s the open time that helps the rest of life breathe.

That day in Stornoway, with seals in the sea and silence all around, I felt it: true white space. Not a gap to fill, but a rhythm to honour.

Without white space, design overwhelms. Without it in life, we do too.

Listen to my short slow-cast on white space.

✦ How do you create white space in your day, your week, your mind?

Making Peace with the Pullback

It’s been a heck of a journey—but I’m finally coming to terms with my need for space. I love how my nearest and dearest have started to remind me to get my space fix too. It’s how I know I have the right types around me.

I’ve stopped seeing it as something I have to defend. Slow living has helped me understand that space isn’t where life stops—it’s where life gets its meaning. It’s not a rejection of others—it’s a return to myself.

Sometimes the most loving thing we can do is to pull back for a moment, breathe, and then come back with a full heart.

✦ What’s one small way you could ask for space today—with love and confidence?

If you’re someone who needs space—emotional, physical, mental—you’re not wrong. You’re just wired for stillness.

Thanks for reading!

Chelsea x