Home alone

Just found this blog post idling away on my desktop, having been written a month ago and never posted. Not one for waste, I thought I’d better pop it up…

Living alone is great.  An old friend once said to me, living alone is something everyone should do, before settling down; to be completely comfortable in their own company and indulge in complete independence.  And she was right.

I spent seven great years living solo, in several different homes, and I loved it, doing everything for myself and being utterly in charge of my own life.

So, as my husband jetted off for two nights in Germany, I should have been excited at the prospect of a weekend of alone time, right? No more joint custody of the remote control, no more socks on the floor, no more debates over what’s for dinner. Three whole days and two whole nights of alone time, just me and the doggy, was something to be relished, yes?

Well, actually, I felt very out of sorts. Like something was missing, someone was missing, and I found it hard to settle or know how to spend my time. Rather than being productive like I would have been in my single life, I found myself floating through the weekend doing very little.  I’m still independent, but less so, and rely on my husband for companionship.

A quick trip to Ikea reminded me how awkward it is to shop there alone, heavy boxes not fit for singletons to move around so my trip was limited to smaller purchases.

What I found most difficult was bedtime; I was actually a little spooked. I spent seven years sleeping alone and wasn’t afraid of the boogie man then, so why now did every creaking pipe or floorboard make me shudder?

It was odd too that I found the laughter of children in the house next door reassuring. In my single life I would have scoffed at the sound of children.

It’s funny how things have changed. I wouldn’t change my solo years, they were great and taught me confidence, independence and that you can achieve a lot of things if you put some elbow grease in. It taught me to value friendships and that to be alone is not to be lonely.

But now I’ve entered a different era, one revolving around family. Now I understand why my dad gets all gooey-eyed when his four children are in the same room at the same time; he feels complete. And that’s how I feel at home with my husband and doggy, complete.

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