Important Lessons You Learn From Living Alone

Posted on by stilllearning2b
living alone

Nothing had changed.

It was the strangest sensation.

I left the apartment just before 6:00 am for work and when I returned that night, nothing  had changed in the intervening hours. The coffee cup was still by the side of the sink with its cold contents beginning to separate. The selected – and then rejected – outfit was still spread out over the surface of the bed. The blinds hadn’t moved, no new footprints were visible in the thick and dense carpet and the single throw pillow remained on the floor where it had fallen the night before.

Nothing had changed.

And yet, everything was different.

After more than a decade living with my husband followed by the better part of a year strung with my friend’s family while I navigated the divorce, I was now living alone.

And, I quickly realized, I still had a lot to learn:

 

Surrounded by Silence

Largely due to financial constraints, I had no television in my apartment. I did pay for internet coverage so that I would have access to my computer, but the AT&T in my building proved about as reliable as a flight time in a torrential thunderstorm. And thanks to my ex’s thefts, I was down to a $20 stereo and a literal handful of CDs.

I was surrounded by silence.

So the voices of my inner thoughts came through loud and clear.

It was uncomfortable at first, being left with my own thoughts without anything to distract. Scratch that. It was terrifying. Especially at night, when my thoughts seemed to reverberate around the mostly-empty space. I was forced to listen to my fears, questioning my decision to stay in Atlanta and wondering if I could actually alone.

But in time, my inner thoughts became more like friends. I began to relish the quiet that would settle in around me once I closed my door against the rest of the world. I began to recognize their cries of panic for the wolf cries that they were. And, surprisingly, I found that the worries faded after they were given the floor. Perhaps the only reason they were speaking so loudly before is that they had to scream to heard above the distractions that surrounded me before I lived alone.

Living alone provides the opportunity for you to become comfortable with yourself without distractions.

 

Taking Care of Business

I almost didn’t get approved for my apartment. The mandatory background check revealed outstanding utility charges that had my name attached, courtesy of my ex who had been awarded the house. I had to scrape together the funds to cover the unexpected expense and collect more court documents to show that my ex was the one responsible for accruing – and ignoring – the debt.

It was petrifying. Not only was my future independence called into question, I was having to take care of this on my own. And I had serious doubts that I could do it.

By transferring items that I intended to buy from the “need immediately” column to the “need soon” list, I was able to cover the past-due utility bills (with only a moderate amount of cursing about the unfairness of it all) and since the divorce paperwork was still easily accessible, it was easy to locate the papers that assigned this responsibility to my ex.

The apartment was mine.

I felt accomplished. In many ways, even more than when my ex and I managed to buy – and remodel – a house at the ages of 22 and 23. Because this time, I did it completely on my own.

It’s daunting to be the only own responsible for everything, but there is a sense of accomplishment and pride that can only come from taking care of business all by yourself.

 

Unearthed Preferences

Over the sixteen years with my ex, I had inadvertently allowed my husband’s preferences to become my own. Sometimes to a scary degree. 

Since I left my former life with only my clothes and my computer, I had to purchase everything from a bath towel to a bed for my new space. It was strange, as I was pursuing the IKEA catalog, I was initially discouraged because none of the pieces fit my ex (either literally, as he was a tall man, or stylistically). I had to remind myself, this was MY space. I could furnish it like I wanted without any consideration for anyone else. (Although, in retrospect, maybe I should have considered my then-boyfriend and his dog when I selected a white slipcover!)

For the first time in almost two decades, my opinion mattered not at 50% (or less), but at 100%. As long as I could pay for it and could wrangle it up three flights of stairs, I could have it.

When we live with others, especially if we have a tendency to people-please, we can subvert our own preferences in an attempt to keep the peace or appear laid back. Living alone provides an opportunity for you to really learn what you like without the fear of someone else’s preferences taking priority.

 

Self-Soothing

My ex-husband was quite skilled at calming me down. Whenever I would enter the house after a challenging day at work, he knew exactly what to say or do to bring down my anxiety and stress. Then, once he was the cause of the stress, the friend I lived with never failed to lend a patient ear or compassionate look.

I’ll never forget my first emotional breakdown in my apartment. It was triggered by a letter from a debt-collection agency. I had been trying unsuccessfully to track down the current owner of the $30,000 credit card debt that my ex accumulated in my name (that included painful items like part of his honeymoon with his other wife). This letter confirmed the ownership and meant that I was soon going to have to begin the literal paying for my ex’s other life.

My body was wracked with painful sobs that echoed off the walls. Part of me was embarrassed at the thought that my neighbors might hear me.

And part of me secretly hoped that they would hear me and that someone would come to check on me.

Nobody did.

I was alone.

And it was up to me to take care of myself.

Once the sobs receded enough that I could stand, I put my running clothes and hit the pavement despite the rain. I ran hard and I ran long, first down the road in from of my apartment then across a bridge where I could access a 6-mile trail along the river. Once I returned, I could barely make it up the steps to my apartment, my legs were spent with the effort. Luckily, my brain was too.

I drew a warm bath and collected a pile of library books for company. Later, in bed, I piled my winter coat on top of me for extra weight and tucked the throw pillows from the living room around me like a quilted hug.

I was still scared and I was still feeling pretty hopeless, but I was also feeling good that I had managed to make a dent in my emotional reaction.

When you’re living alone, you have to learn how to take responsibility for your own stuff.

 

When You Don’t Want to Go Home

Posted on by stilllearning2b

One of the most painful sentences that I have ever been on the receiving end of was, “I didn’t want to come home.”

Those words were a cannonball to the gut, a sharp exhale followed by a tremulous and hesitant inhale.

Because home should be a place where you want to go. A sanctuary where you can recover from the bruises that the world inflicts upon you. Ideally, home is the welcoming hug. The safe space where your armament can be removed along with your shoes.

And so to be told that I was contributing to a home environment that brought dread instead of relaxed anticipation? Ouch.

And yet, I can understand this feeling of not wanting to come home. As I expect most of us can.

Relationships, even the best ones, are challenging. And there are times when having to take somebody else’s emotions and needs just feels overwhelming. Perhaps you’ve fallen into a cycle of negativity and you need some space to untangle the interactions. Or maybe you’re not feeling accepted as you are, which is ever more painful when it happens at home than in the broader world. And sometimes, we outgrow our home, the rigid shell binding when we crave expansion.

Pay attention to that feeling of not wanting to return home. What is it telling you?

In my old life, I always looked forward to coming home. Until that home transformed into an empty shell, a life’s vessel without its lifeblood. The floors echoed, sending out reminders of the years they had been traversed together. The walls seemed to taunt me, speaking of better times. I only managed one night there after he left, an endless darkness spent pacing the living room with a persistent hope that I would soon hear the garage door rumble open. The reminders proved too much for me to bear.

The next day, I escaped to a friend’s home. Which immediately became my home. One I wanted to return to at the end of each day. When it came time for me to establish my own space, I chose the apartment and its furnishings carefully in an attempt to cultivate a space that welcomed me back. Little from my old life occupied the space. It was a blank slate, ready to accept the imprint of a new life.

My home now welcomes me each day. It offers both reminders of the best times and the shared laughter and it also holds the impressions of loss and tears. It’s a place where I feel both accepted and challenged. And on those days when everything is just a little too much, it offers comfort and consolation.

Home holds so much power over us. It is where many of the best and the worst memories are formed. The most important relationships of our lives play out upon its floors. It receives our greatest hopes and dreams and sometimes surrounds us as we say our goodbyes.

It said that you can’t go home again. Yet as long as you accept that home changes with the years and you can rebuild at will, you can always find your way back.

 

 

Important Factors to Consider Before Relocating for a Relationship

Posted on by stilllearning2b
relocating relationship

Have you ever relocated for a relationship?

I have.

Twice.

The first time, I followed my future-ex-husband from San Antonio to Atlanta. I left behind family, friends and school to move to unseen apartment in a city that I had never even visited. Even with all of the sacrifice, I never considered not making the move. At that point, being with my fiance was more important than anything else.

What can I say, you live and you learn.

The next time was slightly different. After the divorce, I was ready to launch myself out of Atlanta like a pilot jettisoning from a crashing plane. I had my sights and my intention focused on Seattle. And then I met my future husband (and later his dog, Tiger) and made the decision to stay put in the area for at least a year.

But I still had to move, even though it was only towards the western end of town instead of the west coast. This time, I was able to become comfortable with my new surroundings, pick out my own apartment and find a job in the area all before I took the plunge.

Yet even with all of that preparation, it was still sometimes a struggle. Because when you relocate for a relationship, you inevitably are making some trade-offs. Ultimately, it’s up to you to decide if the exchanges are worth it (and many time they are). But make sure you carefully consider these factors before you take the plunge:

 

Is this a location where you would choose to live in spite of your partner?

The place where you live has an enormous impact on your overall well-being and happiness. No matter how in love you are, if you hate your city every day, you’ll become miserable. If the draw of the relationship is too great to ignore, can you find a way to make the location more palatable? Maybe a certain neighborhood is more pleasing or the perfect home outweighs the negatives of the rest of the environment. My mom ended up in landlocked San Antonio and she cursed the lack of water until she installed a small backyard pool.

If you and your partner break up, will (or even can you) stay in this location?

At one point, my now-ex and I were looking into the possibility of relocating to California. I remember feeling a strangle little pull in the pit of my stomach when I realized that there was no chance of being able to ever afford to live there on my own salary (and this was when I thought the marriage was healthy). It’s good to have the outline of a “what if” plan sketched out before you invest the time and money into moving.

 

Do you have your own social group in the location? If not, what will you do to build your own connections?

When one half of a couple relocates for the other, it can easily create a situation where the newly-moved is completely dependent upon the other for their social and emotional needs. If you don’t already have friends or family in the location, what can you put in place immediately to start to grow new friendships. Also, how will you keep in touch with established friends as you nurture these new relationships? Try to have more than one possible source for friendships at the ready in case one proves to be a bust.

 

Are you giving up status at work or credits at school in order to move? How will that impact you down the road?

When I moved to Atlanta, I basically lost over two years of college credits. Then, when my ex lost his job, I was forced to make some difficult decisions about my planned degree. At the time, I was okay with the decision, yet I’m not sure that I would make the same one again. Be very careful about your professional or earning potential losses with a relocation. The impact of those can be quite large and irreversible. It may make sense to delay to move for a time or to work to find a creative solution.

 

What will your living situation be like? Are you starting fresh together or moving into their established space?

Moving into someone else’s space is difficult. Even once all of your clothes are in the closet and your pictures are on the wall, you can still feel more like a guest than a permanent resident. Beyond that, how will your space differ from that which you’re accustomed to? Are you moving from the suburbs to a small city apartment or having to deal with the lack of public transit for the first time? Do your research, ask questions and read this for more advice on how to move in together.

 

Do you have children? How will they be impacted by the move? How will their relationship with their other parent be affected?

Will your kids have to change schools? Based upon their ages and temperaments, do anticipate this will be relatively easy for them or especially traumatic? Will they have to share a bedroom for the first time or adjust to a change in available activities? What can you put in place ahead of time to create a niche for them to slide into? If you’re moving away from their other parent (and this parent is involved), plan ahead for ways that your kids can maintain contact. Adult friendships can be sustained with minimal and/or infrequent meaningful contact. Kids’ relationships with their parents cannot.

 

Does your partner frequently expect you to be the one who makes sacrifices or is this generally an equitable relationship?

This is a biggie. Maybe in this case, it makes sense for you to be the one uprooted. But if the tables were turned, would your partner relocate for you? Outside of the move, is your partner willing to compromise their own desires sometimes for the betterment of the relationship? I know that I would never move for somebody that wouldn’t also move for me.

 

So how about you?

Have you moved for love (or for what you thought was love at the time)?

Do you have any regrets?

Did you experience any triumphs?

Do you have any lessons to share?

 

 

S**t Where You Eat

Posted on by stilllearning2b

My cat is displeased.

Perhaps it’s the stress of the move. Or something she does not quite like about the new home. Or the new litter box is the wrong shade of blue. Or maybe she has also developed a basement phobia.

Regardless of the reason, she is not happy and she is letting me know.

First, by using my gym bag as her litter box.

And then the dog bed in my office.

And finally, my office floor.

And now I am displeased.

I have relocated her food from the main floor down to the basement/garage level, where it now sits near her litter box. I figure that the litter box may not be enough to draw her through the kitty door and down the stairs, but I’m betting that her food is. I’m going against conventional wisdom; I want her to s**t where she eats.

And, as I was carrying her food down the stairs, I realized that I use the same strategy in my own life.

Ewww, no I do NOT store my food in the bathroom. That would be unsanitary. Besides, I can restrain myself from using the bathroom on my office floor. I’m civilized like that.

But I do link together things that I do not want to do (my s**ts, I guess you could say) with the things I do like (my kibble, perhaps). Much like I am trying to train the cat (my goodness, dogs are so much easier in this regard!), I train myself to see the link as inevitable. If I want my kibble, I have to endure the s**t.

Today, I listened to music (kibble) while grading papers (I’ll let you guess). I enjoyed coffee (kibble) while paying bills (extra s**tty). Along the same lines, I withhold my favorite socks to wear only on long runs, I save my favorite shower gel as a reward after the gym and I enter a new item on my gratitude list every time I make a payment on the debt from my ex. None of these erase the discomfort of having to endure things I do not want to do. But they certainly make it more pleasant.

S**t is part of life. But that doesn’t mean that it has to stink.

And as for the cat, I’ll give her another week. And then her bed moves down there too.

And Exhale

Posted on by stilllearning2b

We are finally moved in. The movers carried in our furniture yesterday and we carried out the last box not long after. Other than a few details on the main levels (and a basement man room project Brock is working on), the house is as finished as it can be (after some amazing teamwork getting to this point). I’m finished too. My body let me know in no uncertain terms last night that I have been pushing too hard for too long and that I needed to rest. Why do I always force this issue?

Even though I don’t know all of the light switches and I feel like I’m on mind-altering drugs while attempting to cook in an unfamiliar kitchen, this already feels like home. Brock and I welcomed our first sunrise here yesterday morning on the porch. Heaven.

I feel at home. At peace. Comfortable. Unguarded. I haven’t felt this way in a long time.

I can really unpack, both my stuff and my heart. I’m not going anywhere.

They say you can never go home again. I disagree. Home may change but the feeling can be recaptured. I lost my old home in the tsunami that tore away my marriage. Now, I have a new home and, in a few short weeks, a new marriage, both built deliberately and with extra doses of faith and trust. It wasn’t easy and it was scary as hell but, right now, it just feels good.

And I’m going to relax and enjoy it. Much like Tiger and kitty:)

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