I have lived alone for the majority of the time I have been out of university, around 8 years. I once lived with a friend for a while in Hong Kong and with a guy whilst I rented out a room in his house.
I thought I was good at it. I’d hear people talking about their partner going away for a night or two and how they wouldn’t be able to stay at home alone. Now, I’m not that bad, but I am beginning to realise just how much living alone effects me.
My partner and I have just come back from a holiday away as well as a few weeks when we were both off work. During this time he lived here with me in my apartment. Things had a purpose. I washed up because we needed new dishes, I tidied so we could eat or work or play uno. He also picked up the pieces if I felt ill or tired and vice versa.
After a week of constant contact, he returned home, about an hour away. As soon as he left, my body seemed to stop functioning. I lay on my bed being inhaled by social media and by the time he’d got back I hadn’t moved. The last few days have mirrored this. I’ve begun to tell him that life doesn’t make sense without him. This hurts my sense of independence.
I have always been able to get on with life and have never needed someone by my side to do anything. I’ve travelled alone, flown alone long haul and moved to a new country. As I think more, I realise that the same thing has been happening for a while now. If I have something to do, I’ll be able to function, go along have a laugh, but I return home and life stops again. I’ve spent holidays sleeping through days and finding myself unable to cope with my own space. I used to sleep through weekends, fuelled by my hectic schedule, but it was more than that. I knew I needed time off work, but when I had it, I couldn’t find the energy to do the things I had wanted to, alone. I would return to work unable to properly explain what I’d done in the last 7 days and it made me so sad.
It’s true if my schedule is full, this becomes easier as I fill in the gaps with housework, errands and cooking. Having another person with me means the world makes a lot more sense. Whenever he’s here I find myself ‘pottering’, going around the apartment and sorting little things I hadn’t before, almost wasting my time with him.
Thinking about it, life has never made sense without someone. For years I have longed for a companion. I have found friends who I’d spend long periods of time with, go to events with and do the things you’d do with a partner as two singles who want to just bloody go to that fun new activity. Everyone I sought this friendship with grew wary of my presence. There’s always been remarks about how we’re ‘spending a lot of time together’ and how there ‘must be something else going on’. It’s unfair really, to assume things like that of people. It was most likely too much for them to handle, after all I needed someone to be there for me. No one was invested in keeping me sane!
I don’t think it’s to do with my partner that I say these things to him. I am independent with and without him and I know a lot about the world, but my mental health is poor and being alone has really stirred that up.
I always seem to write on here just before an ‘episode’ where I’ll have a period of depression or a worsening of my anxiety. Perhaps that’s also what drives the feeling of loss I suffer when people leave. I can get upset very easily at the thought of him not being here. It does show however that I truly believe him to be worthy of companion status, perhaps a little more than that and it’s been so wonderful to have someone who finally has wanted to take on that role, without shame or question. I’ve found a good egg. I still find myself trying not to put all my problems and emotions onto him though. I’ve learnt that it’s best to share it around with friends and family too. It gives each person a chance to have their own life too as such. The next time you talk to them after a small break, they’re ready to listen again.
Living alone is still shit though.
My Anxious Adventures 