Notes on Living Alone
Rambles of a girl who is moving in with her partner.
I went for a walk after drinking a glass of white wine in my apartment, living alone. Sad girl pop blasted through my AirPods as I strolled into Prospect Park. The sun was setting and it really looked like a scene straight out of an indie movie. A mom teaching her son how to throw a baseball. Kids learning how to ride their bikes gently bumping into each other with their spiky helmets. Two people sitting cross legged on what appeared to be a first date looking longingly into each others eyes.
I’ve always wanted to live alone. I think it’s something I’ve dreamed about since I was a little kid. For me, the epitome of being an independent woman meant living alone in a studio or a loft in a big city. I feel like my whole life was building to that moment. And now, I’ve done it. I’ve lived alone in my Brooklyn studio apartment for a year. In a couple of days, I’ll be moving in with my partner, and it feels like a large part of my life that I had been looking forward to is over. Yet, I’m so excited to live with my partner. It’s also something I’ve been excited about for a while. The contradiction of these two feelings is sitting with me. I’ve written a lot about existing in the space of two contradictory feelings. It is sometimes uncomfortable but I am grateful for my capacity to hold two feelings at once. It is such a large part of my human existence.
A couple notes on living alone.
Living alone is a financial privilege. It is the product of multiple generations of my family working hard so that I could have this luxury of living alone. It isn’t something I take for granted. It is something I want for my children, especially my daughter if I get to have one.
Living alone as a woman is an extreme privilege. No woman in my family has ever lived alone. Not because they didn’t want to, but because they weren’t able to. Being able to even dream of living alone is a privilege. I think about my grandmother who was born right after the British left India. She had a degree in Econ, worked in a bank, raised two kids, and moved for her husband’s job over 15 times while her kids were young. I don’t know how she did it, wearing a sari through it all. In her last 20 years of life when she went fully blind, she still taught me math even though doing math in the summer in India was the last thing I wanted to do. My mom moved over 15 times in her childhood. It is a privilege to grow up in one place. My mom got multiple degrees and she bought her own dental practice in India. She met my dad, moved across multiple oceans, got another degree and sold her practice. She raised two kids, lost her husband, and continued raising those two kids. It is on the backs of these women that I get to live the life that I am living. It is the reason I can live alone. It is why I’ve always dreamed of living alone and why this feels like the end of an era even though I am so excited for the next stage of my life.
Living alone is hard. It can be lonely at times. Sometimes, when I’m lugging my 15 pound bag of groceries from the train station up four flights of stairs, I wish someone was there helping me. When I come home from a long day at school, I wish I had a freshly cooked meal and a warm hug from my partner.
Living alone is fun. I get to eat whatever I want whenever I want, with no judgment. Sure, when I’m living with my partner I can go to the bodega and get a pint of phish food and eat it by myself, but it just won’t feel the same. Can I still make my goodles high protein mac and cheese at 11pm when I’m hungry after a full day of eating because my period is coming and not be judged? probably. Will it be weird? maybe.
Living alone is grounding. I’ve learned so much about myself this year. I’ve let myself fully be myself. I fully feel like myself. Spending so much time with my body and my thoughts in a space that is fully my own is transformative. I’ve finally been able to fully cry. My whole life, I felt like I was always crying on someone else’s property. I know that sounds crazy but it’s true. You know when you cry when your house is empty? It’s kind of like that but on steroids. I feel like I can self regulate better because I let myself feel my feelings fully since there is no other body around for me to be perceived.
A couple of notes about the future.
I’m getting to live with my best friend. Someone who really truly gets me. Someone who I can laugh with. Someone who I can cry with. Someone who I can bug even when I’m going crazy. Someone who supports me, brings out the best in me, and lets me fully be myself. That’s a privilege too.
I am so excited ❤
