For the last twenty-one years of my life, I have never, not once, been alone. I have never lived on my own, and I’ve hardly done all that much on my own. Because of my anxiety I have always been afraid of doing things alone, but you know, the more I grow with my anxiety, the more I want to experience on my own. I have always relied on my parents for everything, and they have always been able to provide it, which I will forever be grateful, but there’s just days where I don’t really feel like interacting with anyone I live with, and not because I’m in a mood or anything, it’s just the energy I put into an interaction, is energy I’d rather spend on something else. I guess this is why I’m always out with friends, and if I’m not, I try to leave the house at least once, just to get some space.
You see, I love my family to death, but sometimes I just need a little bit of space and they aren’t always the most understanding of that, at least my mom and my sister, my dad has always tried to be understanding. Our house isn’t the biggest, but it also isn’t the smallest, there’s just not much room where you won’t run into anyone. I am finally starting to become more independent, and I like to share with my family what is going on in my life aside from them, but when they’re constantly breathing down my neck, it’s kind of hard to want to.
Sometimes I just need a little bit of space.
This morning, I woke up thinking I was going to be home alone. I had a list of things I wanted to get done, like I was going to clean the kitchen and make lunch for when my mom got home, I was going to clean up my room and start to write today’s post at the kitchen counter, no interruptions, but instead I am sitting in bed with my air pods on full blast because my sister is in the kitchen yelling, complaining about her homework assignment.
My sister is a year older, and my whole life I have always thought she was the more “grown up” one, but the older I get, the more I think I am, and I could be wrong, but sometimes I feel like I’m six years old again, getting scolded for something small because my sister decided to tattle on me just to get me in trouble, which she still does, like come one, we’re in our twenties, give it a rest. I have always compared myself to her because it feels like she’s the one who gets all the praise in the family, and I wanted to be just like her so that I would get some too, but the more I grow up, the less I want to be like her, and not for any particular reason, I’ve just learned that I want to be more my own person, than the cloned little sister, if that makes sense.
I want to be more my own person.
Anxiety has stopped me from being myself for quite some time, and I have always compared myself to others, sometimes I still do, but the more I push through it, the more I am becoming my own person, and my worries about not fitting in have decreased, which says a lot because not fitting in is one of my triggers. I guess this is one of the good things to come out of my anxiety, I am becoming stronger, not only emotionally, but mentally as well. A lot of the things that used to terrify me, are now things I do on a regular basis, but don’t get me wrong, this has all been in the span in five years.
Things take time, especially when you’re caught in the same phase of your life for years because of a mental health disorder, but I’m finally at the stage where I feel like I can be on my own and do things on my own. Moving out has been on my mind for a while, but I’m scared. I’ve never been on my own, and I’m lucky enough to have parents that don’t have us pay for any utilities or rent or things of that sort, so I’m not too sure that I would be able to afford living on my own, especially considering that recently I have been very irresponsible with my money, purely because sometimes my anxiety makes me really impulsive.
I would just like to have a space where I can be on my own, without constantly having someone poke their head into my room to see what I shouldn’t be doing. I want to be able to leave my house and go somewhere without having to tell someone where I’m going, who I’m going with, and what time I’ll be back, because sometimes, I don’t even know the answer to those questions. I would like to be able to do things without being asked why or for what or being judged for it. I guess I’ve just learned the difference between being alone and being lonely.
I’ve learned the difference between being alone and being lonely.
I’m not too sure where I was going with this post, it kind of just turned into me being annoyed that I didn’t wake up to an empty house, but I think writing what I was feeling has helped me figure out what the next step in my life is. Six years ago, if you would have told me that I would be considering moving out and doing things on my own, I wouldn’t have believed you because of how crippling my anxiety was. It’s kind of relieving knowing how much I have grown, and how much more independent I have become. Like the text I just sent my friend, I think I’m finally ready to leave the nest.