I spent most of my early twenties living with roommates and my mid-late twenties living with a partner. When I moved back to the United States, after a long stint living in tiny (dingy) London flats surrounded by people at all times, I was anxious to live alone. I just never really had lived alone before. The prospect of the silence, the lack of plans, set me on edge.

My maiden voyage of living solo was made that much more challenging by happening at the same time that The Global Pandemic of 2020 (i.e., COVID) really kicked off. I found myself living by myself for the first time, and also being single for the first time in nearly a decade at a time when everyone was instructed not to leave their house.

Coincidentally, at this point in time, I was the only one of my (new) friends who was not coupled up. Anyone out there who was also single and living alone (with the added bonus of working from home…) will understand the unique mental struggle that was 2020-2021. Friends who were coupled up were impacted very differently by the pandemic. They had their difficulties, to be sure – it seems like it was a make or break time for a lot of couples.

But they certainly didn’t feel the isolation in quite the same way as us singles. During that time I would realize that it had been days since I had seen another person in real life. And the world around me felt new and exciting, but continuously disappointing.

The city that I moved to, Atlanta, had become quite a foodie destination, but restaurants and bars were no longer the social watering hole where you could meet anyone. The age-old tactic of sitting at a bar, or anywhere public was not a feasible option for a significant amount of time.

So after about six weeks of feeling hopelessly alone, and a few weeks scattered throughout of trying to bear through the dating app process, I took it upon myself to start scheduling time with my coupled friends. I started putting myself on their calendar for dinners and movie nights. They tended to find my horror stories of internet dating during COVID to be very entertaining, which was a bonus to me because I collected plenty of them.

Nonetheless, in this time of extreme modern solitidue, I managed to find joy in being alone. I realized how long I had felt slightly performative in my home. How infrequently I was able to let loose and take care of my own needs.

Over a couple of years I grew to find many wonderful things about living alone: I have loved being able to decorate my space in a way that speaks to me and me alone, without having to ask someone else’s opinion. I found bliss in self-care evenings that were not relegated to a shared bathroom: hours long baths with all the fragrances, candles and face masks.

I have relished the ability to have all of my emotional outbursts at whatever volume pleases me: laughing, crying, screaming, with no fear of interruption. And there is so much satisfaction in being able to walk around my house in clothes that are not particularly appealing (or none at all) knowing that it is my space and there are no rules.

I found time to learn about myself, which wasn’t a thing that I thought I needed. But once I started reading modern books about psychology (what some would call self-help), I found that there was an endless supply of self-knowledge to be gained from time alone with my thoughts, the prospect of which had truly scared me before.

I found joy in living alone, joy in the quiet, joy in getting to determine when I wanted to socialize.

And then suddenly, I found myself in a chapter of life that for a time I didn’t see for myself in the near or distant future: one where I am again living with a partner.

Although there are so many things that I loved about living alone, there were many things about living with a (loving, attentive) partner that I missed. And many things about being in a healthy co-habitating relationship that I didn’t even know to want or expect before.

It feels so great to have healed enough to want to welcome someone else into my home and to build a home together.

Whatever lies ahead, I now know that there can be profound joys in living alone.