Solitude

“Women need solitude in order to find again the true essence of themselves.”
Anne Morrow Lindbergh

I've had the intention of writing this post for some time now, but with humanity little by little stepping into isolation in a way reminiscent of a dystopian movie, this post is oddly on topic.

Perhaps it's isolation that gave me the time and mental space to sit down and write this. I'm on my third day of isolation, at a time when I want to be out enjoying spring and meeting friends and embracing life in a city where I haven't quite settled yet. But truthfully, I spent most of the winter in isolation.

Last September I reached a milestone, something which I always expected to happen earlier in life (at least before the age of 29), but life went down a different road. At an age when I expected to be married and a mother, instead my milestone was a rite of passage that I always longed to do before I had a family of my own: I moved into an apartment, by myself.

I hear some people don't like the idea of living alone, but for me it was always something I wanted to do, to spend a while living completely independently, with space to myself for reading and writing and creating, a space with my own mark on it. And while my mum asks every weekend if I'm going to go out and socialise, the truth is that after a busy week working with people it's nice to embrace the solitude, and I like to spend time in my home and enjoy my own company. It's a place where I can truly relax, take my time and recharge. If I want to eat dinner for breakfast and cake for dinner then I can. If I want to go out after work, nothing is stopping me. If I want to walk around wearing a ridiculous face mask, dance to cheese and sing terribly, there is no one to pass judgement. And if I want to write a blog post at one o'clock on a Tuesday morning, I can also do that.

Another thing people ask is “have you got a boyfriend yet?” But when I tell them that no, I don't want that right now, a lot of people look at me weird. I spent the larger part of a decade in and out of relationships, and while I am lucky to have shared some wonderful experiences with partners, right now I don't want to share my time or my space with another person. It's nice to just be me and do my own thing. Occasionally the thought of dating crosses my mind, and then when I think about how much time and effort I'd have to put in, I'm just not interested. Sure, relationships are nice, but I'm not ready for that again, not yet. And as someone who was always “in a relationship” or had just got out of a relationship, or was “with someone”, it's refreshing to have freedom to go where I want and do what I want, or just stay in.

When I look around my apartment, I see me. I see what I've worked for, what I've created. I see my tastes and the things I like. And I enjoy spending time here and getting to know myself. So while I'm on day 3 of isolation and a bit worried about being cut off from people for the next week, or maybe two, or three, I am also looking on the bright side. Being alone can be lonely, but it is also the perfect opportunity to connect with yourself, to know yourself and to do things that you can't do with another person present. And at the age of 29 I'm glad I'm finally able to do this thing for myself, before I no longer have the chance to do things for myself.

Stay safe and embrace the solitude, friends, because spending time with yourself can be the best way to get to know You.

Thanks for reading.

Berlin, Germany, March 2020

On Living the Dream

Around about ten years ago, I imagined that my life by 2015 would be quite different from what it has become. For a start, teenage me was a Francophile, and I dreamed of living in France. I imagined having a little provincial cottage, somewhere in the countryside but not too far from the city, with a flowery garden, an art room full of oil paintings and shelves upon shelves of books. I imagined being an independent woman, a successful translator or maybe, just maybe, a published author.

Of course, none of these things have happened. Francophile me turned into a Germanophile. Idealist me turned into a realist. And that independent young woman? She got a boyfriend.

I always was romantic. I couldn't wait to fall in love. But the image of me being a wife and mother always battled with the image of me being strong and independent. For a while, I saw no reason why I shouldn't have that ideal bachelorette dream for a few years and have a boyfriend. That was before I drove not one but several boyfriends up the wall by jetting off on semesters abroad and talking about my dreams of living overseas. I have been selfish, but I can't regret it. Few people have the chance to live their dreams and I was determined to take every opportunity handed to me. But when another person enters the equation, there comes a point when you have to make a compromise. And the agreement to compromise came when I realised I was finally tired of long-distance relationships.

It was about two years ago when I started to consider moving in with my partner. For a long time I had held on to that idea of having my own place, completely my own. But when I graduated university, went back to live with my parents and failed to land the dream job straight away, reality took a big bite. Today's economic situation isn't a friendly one for people looking to live alone. It's not even friendly for some couples wanting to live together. So when I finally let myself consider the possibility, I warmed to the idea. I had been with my partner long enough for it to be suitable, I knew he was secure and stable and would look after me if times were hard, and I figured it would be a great way to really get to know whether or not we are right for each other in the long run.

There was just one last thing I had to do before I took the plunge: spend a year in Germany. It was the one last selfish dream I had, the one shot at doing something by myself before I became one of a pair, and I knew I would regret it if I didn't do it. So I did it, and while at the end of my placement it hurt to tear myself away from a country I have come to love, I have now freed myself up to truly take any opportunity that comes my way, for the first time in my life.

As of two weeks ago, I am now living with my boyfriend in Norwich, UK. After we've been waiting for it for so long, the feeling hasn't really sunk in yet. It's partly because my biggest worry right now is finding a job, and job hunts tend to stop me from really enjoying things (I'm a worrier, oh dear). But little things remind me that it's finally happened, such as the objects I collected "for my home" finally making an appearance, the strange enjoyment of cooking dinner every evening (I don't usually like cooking) and the card from my family congratulating us on our first new home. Things will probably start to settle quite nicely when I finally get a job and we fall into a routine. The routine of our life.

It's not the dream I had ten years ago. I am yet to land the dream job, publish that novel still waiting to be edited and buy a pretty cottage in the countryside. But it's a dream my boyfriend and I have shared for the past two years, and we have other dreams, dreams that are slowly becoming plans. Dreams that might just become a reality, if we work hard enough.

It's enough for us, for now.

Norwich, UK, June 2015