|Write about something presently in your life that is "worth it."|
I would say living alone is something that is totally worth it... at least for me.
I've been - for the most part and most senses of the word - independent. I suppose I've always been like that. My mother often tells me that I need to be a little less independent (though she has her own reasons for that).
Now that's not to say I haven't had some help along the way, but I feel that for the most part - especially when all my ducks are in a row, so to speak - I can take care of myself.
Ever since I moved out of my mom's house, I've always had roommates - from 1 to no more than 5. I had always entertained the notion of having my own place, but I'm a social creature and like having others around me. We don't necessarily have to hang out all the time, but just having a body nearby (yeah - that sounds weird, but you know what I mean) is comforting in a way.
But in having my own place, I can do what I want and not worry about waking up roommates. If I can't find something, it's because *I* can't find it and not because someone borrowed it and didn't put it back where they found it. I don't have to share the TV or the computer. I can organize things the way I want (which makes my inner OCD ever so happy).
The previous place I lived was my only option to move to at the time I needed to move. I was renting a room from someone, a scenario I was very much against from the get-go, but when it's the only option that presents itself, you work with what you got.
I was pretty much stuck to my room when I was home. I had free reign of the house more or less, but most of the time I stayed in my room since someone from my landlady's family was always crashing on the sofa and all the other rooms were bedrooms or the bathroom. (Yeah, not many options.) And the kitchen was pretty much non-accessible as well since there was never any room in the fridge for any groceries that I bought. I even cleaned out/organized the fridge/pantry a few times, and within seconds it went back to total chaos. Stuff would always get put back in the fridge, shoving anything I had to the back so when my landlady would clean out the fridge once in a while, she'd come across something smooshed WAY in the back that I had completely forgotten about asking "Is this yours?" (Also her guests - aka family - that would crash in the living room, etc, had the habit of occasionally eating my food/drinking my drinks/using my bathroom toiletries. When my landlady found out, she was extremely apologetic (I mean, I wrote my name on all my food, and the bathroom I used was not the same as my landlady's in her master bedroom... but for some reason, when she'd say "You can use my stuff to take a shower, they'd always grab mine... which I thought odd since they'd take it out of the bathroom I use and take it into her bathroom to shower. WTF?!)
So when the opportunity came for me to have my own little place, I admit I was a little scared at first, I had never lived alone before, but in the end I decided it'd be good for me.
With a whole lot of support, love and assistance from my family, friends, and loved ones, I was settled into my little corner of the universe.
I'm currently on my second year in my quaint little studio. There are debts to pay, work to be done, and my place is still not complete yet - but it's mine. It's nice to have a place that's my own, to be responsible for my life, to cook for myself, to lay in bed and read, to drink while watching some shows... or not.
But to be on my own feels good, and I think it's good for me.
And I like it.
Later my lovelies.