This month my blog posts have been few and far between as I attempt to set myself up in my very own place, and realise that although I am nearly thirty I have never lived independently and still so far from being self-sufficient.
On good days I am excited about this. Most of the time I’m scared.
Today I started making a list of all the things I do not own. I do not own a tin opener, pan or a bathmat. Bed, sofa or crockery. It goes on but it gets depressing.
Its going to take me a while to sort myself out.
I can’t think of all this without thinking of the seven year relationship I walked out of a while ago. I don’t think its right to bitch about that on here, but I am genuinely sure that my situation is probably quite typical of women who live with their partners without getting married. When I left the relationship I was in no mental state to negotiate splitting of the possessions we bought together. Taking it up now, a year on, I kinda feel like I don’t have a leg to stand on. You can ignore practicalities of the world for a long time, but eventually they’ll come back and bite you.
This isn’t just about colanders or cabinets or dining tables of course, its partly about me being able to look after myself and realising how long I’ve been dependant on others: economically and mentally. Maybe its time to finally cut the strings and see if I can fly.