I moved out when I was 18. I went straight from living with my parents to living with George. While we were saving for our house, George and I tried having roommates, which was an absolute nightmare, but I guess my loss is your gain as it's a spectacular story. For a different day, though. The point today is that I've never lived alone. And every now and then, it hits me that I never will. Which is mostly fine, and I wouldn't give up my family for anything and all of that, but I do wish I'd tried it before they came along.
I used to do things that really freaked George out. Like get in my car and just leave for a few days. I didn't have a phone, and if I did, I probably wouldn't have answered it, so I totally get why this bothered him, but it was something I needed to do. For me. I always left a note that I wasn't upset or angry or leaving him, I was just going on vacation. I did this quite often, and to be honest, I think it would pissed me off if the shoe was on the other foot. George, as always, was nonplussed by my behavior, but he just accepted it as one of those things. He didn't like it, but he didn't get mad at me over it, either. George is a saint.
I never really knew where I was going, either, I just went. I had this game, where I'd assign a fairly common word to each direction, turn the radio on and whichever word I heard first was the way I went. I'd find small, but interesting towns and eat in their local restaurants and stay in their cheap motels. Sometimes I'd chat with the locals and others, I'd just keep to myself. Sometimes I was me, and others I'd make up whole new personalities to try out on people I'd never see again.
Another time, I moved into a hotel for three weeks and didn't talk to anyone other than the lady at the front desk and the guy who occasionally brought my food. I mostly ate stuff I packed, though, so that was infrequent and the desk lady was just me calling down to extend my stay. George and my mom were both convinced someone was going to find me dead in there, but they were wrong. I just felt like being antisocial. Really antisocial.
Anyway, I don't get to do these things anymore. I won't get to for many, many more years. Gone are the days of subsisting on nothing but caffeinated beverages and nicotine. There's actually food in my fridge, rather than just condiments and booze. I socialize on a daily basis. My mother no longer worries that I'm stuck in some sort of heart wrenching depression (even though I've never been depressed in my life.) I don't sit around in my undergarments, listening to bad music and fighting with people on the internet anymore. Sometimes I find these things a little sad, but then neat little things happen, like George letting me pick the movie or Pie learning to draw people (better than I can, I should add) and it's all okay.
Still, there's only one month until George takes Pie on her first camping trip. They're going for four days. I can't wait.
I was looking for the like button for the last paragraph but I couldn't find it.
ReplyDeleteI have never been able to do this. I have never lived alone, either, but I did have a time in my life where I lived with a family I knew. And I would take off to the mall or wherever and think "No one knows where I am. I didn't have to ask anyone to leave. But if something were to happen to me, no one would know where I am." That though usually scared me pretty thouroughly.
Sometimes now I'll go for a drive to the post office or to the grocery store. That's about the extent of my "alone time".