When I was younger, I was afraid of living on my own. I was worried that I’d do something I wouldn’t survive to regret, or that I’d never leave my house until someone came to physically throw me out, and all sorts of other doomsday type scenarios which played in my mind.
Now, I live alone, in no small part because I must. I haven’t done anything truly regretful, besides maybe make a few purchases I shouldn’t have. I make it to work, go shopping, and generally act like a normal person.
I’m not afraid of myself or being alone like I once was, I’ve grown past it. And in doing so, I’ve started to learn a lot about myself, and to finally mature in ways I’d always neglected before. I do chores, clean dishes and the house, things I used to loathe doing (and I’m still not fond of) because I have to, there is no one else here but me, and I refuse to live in a roach infested trash heap live I’ve done time and time again when I’ve relied on others to take care of what I couldn’t be bothered to do. It isn’t pretty, but it’s where I’ve been.
Over Thanksgiving, I got to visit my family again, which was fun. We talked about what we are each thankful for, but one thing I realized is that I am actually thankful to finally be free from others like I am. I’ve lived my whole life either with my parents or with a flatmate or significant other, and I think I developed a bit of co-dependence on having that other that I’m finally pushing free of.
It’s been enlightening so far. Let’s see how it goes from here, eh?
The Ranting Loon