If you’ve been an avid reader of my blog for a while now, you’ll know that in September I embarked upon a new adventure, university. This obviously meant I’d be living alone, with flat mates of course, but for the first time ever I had to fully look after myself. Do all the adulty things like cook, clean and basically keep myself alive and well – easier said than done when you’re a student who hasn’t really ever had to ‘adult’ before.
Don’t get me wrong I was fully excited about this new adventure and quite frankly I couldn’t wait to get out into the world, live on my own and have the independence I had always wanted. Turns out I hated it.
Once the novelty of living on my own and the initial excitement had warned off, I realised that I’m really not cut out for living on my own, especially so far away from my family and friends. I 100% underestimated the challenge, thought it would be a walk in the park and it really wasn’t.
It’s not the cooking, cleaning and looking after myself that I hated, it was the loneliness. Like living alone was lonelier than I ever had imagined. I had envisioned that starting university would mean I would become bffs with all my flat mates, but reality check, this most certainly didn’t happen. I lived with 3 other people, one who never left his room (not exaggerating when I say I am pretty sure I’ve only ever seen him twice), one only ever came out to make pizza (I think food was the only thing I have ever spoke to him about) and then the last flat mate, I actually got along with really well. But it was one of those friends that you sort of just see around in the kitchen and not really go out with – we both had very different personalities.
Had I got along with my house mates better, I think I definitely would have been a lot less lonely and possibly coped with living on my own slightly better, but life doesn’t work like that.
Although I hated living on my own so much it did teach me a hell of a lot about myself. Without sounding too cliché, it made me realise how strong I am, I’m so bloody proud of myself for living on my own for a year, even though I was so unhappy, like the fact I managed to get myself through it, was pretty impressive. I realised too that I’m very much a home girl, I hadn’t ever thought I was, but moving away made me realise I need to be close to my friends, family and people I care about (and my doggo, of course). Also taught me that you can live on pasta, no matter what anyone says.
I seriously thought that moving 3 and a half hours away from my family and living on my own would be so much fun, I think I was possibly just being a typical 18 year old that wanted to move out and do their own thing – I’m sure I wasn’t the only one. I’ve also grown up so much since moving away, don’t get my wrong I’m still sarcastic and childish probably more so than what any 18 year old should be, but I’ve learnt to properly adult now…think I can take on anything, apart from a washing machine, they still baffle me.
Despite all this, I am glad I moved out and lived alone because had I not, I never would’ve known how I’d have coped. Next time I move out which wont be too soon (sorry Mum), I’ll make sure I do it with either friends or a significant other (ha, fat chance).
All my love,