I wonder if living alone is healthy. I have only lived alone for about 7 months now and in many ways I love, love, love it, but I just am not sure it’s healthy. I like living alone because I don’t have to put up with someone else’s noise or strange habits and I like living alone because in those moments where I really don’t want to interact with anyone I don’t feel like I should because I come home and a roomie is there. But pretty much all the other times I wish I had a roomie…or let’s be honest, a husband. I wish I had a partner in crime when it was time for dinner. Cooking for one sucks no matter how many neat little cookbooks they come out with that say it’s easy. And eating in silence is complete undesireable (except maybe in the mornings). And I’m a thinker and a talker which means I am able to put ideas together best when I speak them. Writing works sometimes, but usually only when my ideas have been birthed and just need refinement. Well, I can talk to the walls, but they don’t talk back. And I like to speak into people’s lives. It brings me great joy and it spurs me on in this journey called life. Sometimes I feel as though the lack of people in my life is a prison which I cannot excape. And after writing this post I feel like I should be laying on some couch in the office of some psychoanalyst.
It’s 8:45 on the morning of Good Friday. I have the day off…I need to get going…I have a ton of work to do for seminary. But I am getting stuck on the fact that I am alone. For anyone who reads this, have you any thoughts about how to make peace with loneliness?