So, I’ve been living on my own for roughly five years now. When my mother first introduced the concept of living alone to me at the age of sixteen, I was staunchly against it. I didn’t see why I would ever want to move out. She wasn’t even suggesting that I move out back then. All she said was “you know, eventually you’re going to want your own place.” At the time, the mere suggestion of it seemed ridiculous. Living with my parents was so comfortable. I always had food, I had access to their support and help, and I had a comfortable bed.  What more could I have wanted? Turns out, the answer was a lot. Even when I first moved out, back when I was 20, I wasn’t entirely confident it was the right idea. My mother had convinced me to do it. After the first couple of months, I practically forgot about living with my parents. The freedom of living alone was liberating and surprising. While I hadn’t felt limited living in their house, I became aware of how limited I actually was. The absence of a curfew, for example, was very quickly an obvious plus to having my own place. Being able to hang out with friends late at night because we were having fun instead of leaving early was one of the greater joys. I quickly forgot my worries and instead began enjoying the benefits of privacy.

My mother has a tendency to be right about things. This was no exception. In reverse, if she suggested to me that I move back now, I would be staunchly against it. I don’t see why I would ever want to move back in. I have all of my own food, I have privacy, and I have everything set up how I like it. Why would I give all of this up? The benefits range from simple pleasures, like playing music at volumes that I like, to more personal things, like having my girlfriend over to eat dinner and watch a movie. While living alone also comes with bills, having to take out my own trash, and the like, it’s overall a net positive to me. If anything, paying bills and dealing with trash has helped me gain perspective that I didn’t have before about what it means to become a self-sufficient adult. When I was young, I thought it was all about getting a job and making money and having a family. As I’m in my developing adulthood, I realize it’s a complex mix of practical things (having a job, paying bills, etc.) and conceptual things (emotional maturity, relationship maturity, etc.). Living alone has helped me have the space I needed to embrace many of these realizations rather than fear them. I wonder what my sixteen-year-old self would say if he saw me now.