living alone

Of those 17 addresses I've had in the past 15 years, this year has been the first time I've ever really lived alone. And not only lived alone, but enjoyed living alone.

In the past, when I've had a place of my own, I've always been quick to fill it with guests. Neighbors, nearby friends, traveling guests, roommates, Bible study groups, clearness committees, dance parties, etc.

Or else I've spent so little time at my own place, choosing instead to be out, or at friends homes, or working, that I could hardly call what I was doing "living alone".

In other words, I would do anything to fill the lonely spaces.

Plus it can be wonderful to be with others and share your space with someone else.

I was so glad to have Kim as a roommate the year that the raccoons took to mating up against my bedroom window. I don't know what I would have done if I didn't have her to wake up at 5 a.m. with a "You've got to see this!"

I was even more grateful to be married to someone who knew how to remove my new raccoon family when mom, dad, and pups took up residence in my basement.

But sharing your space can also be frustrating.

Like one of my housemates in California who was prone to drinking binges and passing out naked in front of our bathroom when I needed to get ready for work.

Or my roommates in Wyoming who thought locking me out on a regular basis would teach me to lock our doors and carry my keys. (It didn't.)

I know well the joys and frustrations of living with others, but I've never taken the time to appreciate the joys and frustrations of living on my own. Until now.

Now I love how quiet my house is. I love the freedom of living alone. I love being able to find the right pliers to fix the leaky shower head. And even though I miss living with someone who can literally fix anything, I am content knowing who to call when the dryer breaks (or the fridge, the dishwasher, the ...).

I also love that there is no one here to turn on the television, video games, radio, computer, etc., except me. There is no one here to tell me I should be working instead of looking up old boyfriends on Facebook (not that I would ever do that). There is no one to accuse me of leaving dirty dishes in the sink (which I do on a regular basis) or of putting the toilet paper on the holder wrong (my way is the right way anyway).

I can read when I want to. Sleep when I want to. Walk the dog when I want to. Exercise when I want to. Work when I want to. Sing when I want to. Pray when I want to. Cry when I want to. Be lonely when I want to.

But I've noticed that last one happens less and less the more I learn to appreciate and EMBRACE LIVING ALONE.

Have you ever lived alone? Did you enjoy it? Or did you spend all your time alone wishing you weren't?