About a year and a half ago I was living by myself for the first time ever after separating from my now ex-husband. I had lived with my family up until the age of 19, then with roommates through college, and then moved in with my ex immediately after graduating. It’s all I knew and I got used to it. Fast forward to September 2015 and I’m collapsed on the floor of my new townhome, scared to death and crying about being on my own. At the time I had no choice but to pick myself up and make the best of it. But now, March 2017, I’m about done with this sh*t.
I had a lot of support when I went through my separation/divorce, even from people who I hadn’t talked to in years. Some went through this same event, so they could relate, and that was particularly helpful. But one common thought was conveyed from several people after telling them I was living on my own for the first time; “you’ll love it”, “it’ll be so good for you”, “I sometimes wish I could go back to that time”, “living alone is the best!”, etc. Mind you, I truly appreciate the sentiment behind these statements, and I believe that these people did benefit from and enjoy living alone. So, I gave it a chance, thinking that eventually I’d come to enjoy it, too. But as I write this, there’s only one thought in my mind when I think about living alone…
I HATE IT.
Of course, it hasn’t been all bad. Some of the pros have included decorating as I see fit, randomly singing and dancing in the kitchen while I cook, coming and going as I please, and other fun things. But they pale in comparison to the cons I’ve experienced. As someone with more mental health issues than I can count on one hand, being by myself can be pure hell. I’m in my own head all the time because I don’t have the distraction of someone else to talk to, therefore I ruminate and over-analyze everything, which often results in a panic attack. I engage in bad habits because there is nobody there to stop me. The loneliness of being alone in my house just adds to my depression. I don’t sleep well unless I’m next to someone else. I will say that the one benefit of living alone for me was realizing that I don’t like living alone.
Fortunately, I’m moving in with Shane at the end of May. And while I know that living with someone is not a cure-all for my issues, I believe I won’t be as triggered anymore. I have never been so mentally unstable in my life than I have the past couple of years. I swear that if not for my two cats, I wouldn’t even be here writing this. As much as I can sometimes be introverted, I like being around other people. I like coming home to someone at the end of my work day. I like goodbye kisses and hello hugs. I like cooking meals, chatting and watching a movie with someone else. I like not having to get in my cold car at midnight to drive home or wonder when I’m going to see my partner next. Even if I feel like reading a book and taking some space, I know that there is still someone in the next room, and it gives me a sense of calm. Maybe I’m a bit of a love and romance addict, but I’ve come to accept that it’s just who I am, and who I am needs the company of another human to thrive.
So while I recognize why it was good for me to experience life on my own, and while I’m super appreciative of all the supportive comments from others, I’m ready to kiss this part of my life goodbye. I envy the people who truly enjoy it; I did it because I had to, but it’s just not for me. I was fortunate to have lived in an awesome townhome, and I will definitely miss that. But I’m ready to get back to adulting with someone else and experiencing that comfort and contentment I so fondly remember. Plus, Loki and Odin will have a new feline friend (which I’m sure all three are THRILLED about). Living with someone is just better for me, and I’m now counting down the days until I get to do it again.