The year was 2015, the only year that is a black hole in my memory. I had just started living alone for the first time in my life in a dinky 1-bedroom apartment with frequent power outages and unlivable heat.
I was lying in bed, unable to get up. The eerie silence in the house was deafening, and my silence matched it. The entire day, I couldn’t do anything. I had no desire to move, no desire to eat, not even a desire to live. I ordered food, ate it without pretense, and went back to sleep.
In the years since, I’ve lived alone on 3 separate occasions, in increasingly nicer homes, and while each time it is easier, I’ve realized it’s not for me, no matter how nice the house is.
My parents and I have lived together for four years now and even bought a house together. It’s been surprisingly great - an 8 out of 10 experience, which is more than anyone can ask for.
They moved from Kolkata to Bangalore to live with me in February 2020. This was less than a month before the news of the COVID-19 pandemic broke. We often discuss how incredibly fortuitous it was and how nerve-wracking it would’ve been for them for both their children to be away from them during that time.
I’m proud to say that my parents have bucked the trend around us and grown increasingly progressive rather than conservative as they’ve entered their 50s. They’ve let go a lot of their staunch beliefs as their lives have gone through a wild change. As such, it’s been nice for me in my adulthood to rediscover my parents as new people.
It’s also been incredibly nice to have other people in my space.
They’re currently back in Kolkata for some work, and I find myself again deafened by my own silence, with nobody to talk to. I have music on constantly, and I talk to my cats a lot, and all of it helps. I’m even going out and meeting friends every few days, but ultimately it is not enough.
Having people to talk to makes a house a home.
Many of my friends have told me how much of a dream it is for them to have their own home that they can live in all alone. Once upon a time, I saw the appeal, but having experienced it, I find I cannot relate.
My hypothesis is that it boils down to whether you’re an introvert or an extrovert. What’s the difference? Extroverts gain energy when they’re with others, and drain energy when they’re alone. Introverts are the opposite - they drain energy when they’re with others, and gain energy when they’re alone.
I’m 31 now, and I like to think I’ve done a lot of introspection over the course of my twenties. I find myself FIRMLY entrenched in the extrovert camp, so living alone long-term is out of the question for me. I’m literally not built for it.
What about you? Are you an introvert or extrovert? Have you ever lived alone - what was your experience like? I’d love to know if my hypothesis is correct or if you can add an interesting wrinkle to it. Let me know!
This is such a lovely piece! I wish you had written some more of it 🌸 I think my best year of adulthood was when I lived completely by myself in a cute 1BHK in Indiranagar. I started going to therapy the same year and realised how much I depended on others for my own peace. This year was a lesson on solitude and it made me value spending time with myself. I am an out and out extrovert and it's been 3 years since that year. I don't think I can live completely by myself again (for one, I am too scared to sleep by myself in a house) but I have learnt to channel the hidden introvert in me through that year. Someday, I will have a tiny studio where I will read, write and spend a few nights on my own (ala Carrie from Sex And The City) but for now, I am happy sharing a home with someone for sure ☺️