Don’t take it for granted!
Living alone for the first time has equally been the hardest but my most favourite two years of my life. A mortgage to pay, meaning your job becomes more stressful to perform in as there’s not an option to lose it, pets to look after so you can’t just go away knowing there’s not other people in the house to feed them, doing all the chores by yourself, being ill with nobody there to make you a cup of tea or bring you a get well soon basket, the worries of falling and nobody hearing, sleeping with all the lights on because you’re convinced there’s an intruder, wondering how many days it would take for someone to realise something has happened to you. Feeling so small yet…. In this living alone world, we are so big, as it is just us. My home is clean and it’s mine and I’m proud because I did it. I love when my fridge is full. I love that I get to come home and decide whether my night is gaming, slouching, reading, or making music. Nobody controls me or anything. This space I have created, the connection I have made to my home, is something I can’t explain. I will remember this place when I’m 80, and I can’t wait to tell my grandkids all about my first time living alone and how perfectly I remember every wall and crevice. Living alone has forcefully formed me into someone so independent and confident, and even if I have to eat mashed potatoes or super noodles for dinner when money is low, I will take my candlelit low budget dinners alone over anything else, any day. I am so grateful I have had two whole years to really see who I am behind closed doors. And it turns out I love me.