A friend said to me the other day "It's hard living alone, isn't it?" I wasn't sure how to respond. Yes, sometimes it is difficult but other times it is peaceful and quiet.
But thinking about it further, there is a lot more variance than that quick sentence.
It wasn't until I was 48 years old that I ever lived alone. I grew up in a household of 8 people, never enough room or enough money, always tension in the air from so many factors. Looking back, part of the reason I got married at the age of 20 was for a change of scenery, a chance to live a different life. (There was no way I could have articulated that then.) Married, a couple of kids, then not married, then married again.... then not married again. That was the trajectory from 1970-1998. Then, in 1998, I was divorced and alone. And I loved it.
There is such freedom in living alone, at least when you haven't experienced it your entire life. It was a cliché, of course, to get to eat and drink and sleep when I wanted and with whom I wanted. But clichés are commonplace for a reason: they aren't original. My experience as a newly single adult wasn't original but it was important and right for me at the time.
Now, 25 years later, here I am, still single, still living alone (i.e. no roommates) and still enjoying it. Mostly. To be honest, there are times when it would be very nice to have someone else around to share an opinion, to share a meal, to share expenses, to share a decision. Living alone is hard at times. No one to laugh with while watching a goofy movie, no one to eat with, no one to take the trash out. No one to be part of the goods, the bads, the ups and downs. There is no regret here, and very little longing for another person, just the acknowledgement that yes, sometimes living alone is hard.
But still, for the most part, it works for me.
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