What I enjoy about living alone

I grew up the oldest of four, noisy, opinionated siblings, moved pretty much straight from my childhood home into my marital one and lived with my husband and then our two children until I was in my early fifties. When we made the difficult and sad decision to separate, I moved out of our long-time home and into a little rented, terraced house not far away. It was the first time in my life I had lived alone, and although I have been lucky enough to find a lovely new partner, we don’t live together (he spends the weekdays in his house and comes to mine at the weekends), meaning I have lived on my own ever since.

Bruised from the process of our separation (achieved as co-operatively as it could have been, but excruciatingly painful none the less after over 30 years together), I felt both relieved and drained moving my possessions into my new abode. It took a while for the reality of living alone after a lifetime of living with other people to sink in in any meaningful way, and when it did the novelty of it felt surprisingly exhilarating, liberating and adventurous.

What I didn’t expect once that intoxicating newness had calmed down, was to discover that I’m not only more than capable of living and being alone, I really like it. This, in absolutely no order of importance, is why:

Being able to start each day at the pace I want, whether that’s waking up, scrolling on my phone over my first cuppa and then going to the gym or exercising at home before eating breakfast. Or getting ready to head out for whatever appointments or work I have that day without being beholden to anyone else’s routine or requirements.

And at the other end of the day, choosing whether I watch TV until bedtime, or read tucked up in bed or on the sofa (not to mention fall asleep on aforementioned sofa only making my way to bed in the early hours of the morning, ahem). Being able to have the bedside light on as long as I want or need without having to worry about disturbing my sleeping companion. Or trying to get to sleep before them in order not to have to try nodding off whilst serenaded by their snoring.

My food intake and timing is completely my own choice. I can cook a proper meal—or not cook at all. Eat cereal for dinner, or have lunch at 4pm. Make pasta three meals in a row, or crush crisps in a sandwich without having to justify or explain my culinary choices to anyone.

I can revel in peaceful silence or play whatever music I choose at whatever volume I choose. Dance around the kitchen, leave washing piled on the table, watch whatever rubbishy TV I fancy, move furniture or redecorate just because I feel like a change.

Living alone has made me more resourceful. I’ve always been the one to do the practical stuff around the house, but now, by necessity, I manage all my own financial and admin affairs and whilst I wouldn’t say I’m always completely on top of it all, I’ve surprised myself with how I generally cope. To that point, I’m also much more adept at seeking out help and expertise when I need it.

The occasional pile of laundry aside, I’m a pretty tidy person and I love it that whatever I sort, tidy and/or put away stays that way until the next time I use it. Ditto the plumped up cushions on my chairs and bed.

All of which is not to say I don’t love company. I absolutely do. I love the noisy busyness when my family comes to visit, especially the chaotic cacophony of my gang of grand-girls. The, also slightly chaotic, companionship of my lovely fella (it seems he only needs to walk through the door for there to be mess all over the place. And it’s never too long before there’s football on the TV.) And the happy hours spent with friends.

And that, I think is the key to the contentment I feel when the house falls quiet again and I’m on my own. I know that at any time I can choose to be in the company of others. My life feels just the right balance of chosen solitude and companionship. I may quite often be alone, but I’m never lonely.

To anyone who’s facing the prospect of, or is living solo for the first time, my advice would be to find a way to embrace it. Make your space your own. Learn what kind of soup you actually like when no one else is around to veto lentils. Discover your own rhythms. Because being on your own isn’t about what’s missing. It’s about everything you get to choose for yourself.

Are you happily, or cautiously solo? I’d love to know how it’s going for you. Leave a comment below. Or just raise a mug of tea from your quiet kitchen to mine. Cheers.