In high school I had a couple of hard years where I couldn't talk to my parents due to teenage angst. Since I'm first generation, my parents didn't really understand what I was going through. They sent me to live with my uncle for a week when I was a sophomore hoping that I could at least talk to him or I dunno, I guess get away from it all.
It's weird thinking about sophomore year of high school...no cell phones, dial up Internet, shitty grungy music, and my rebellious goth phase. I think my parents thought that I could talk to my uncle because he moved to America when he was 5 and has been pretty much white-washed. As it turns out, I didn't really talk to him that often as he went to work all day and I just read books and did homework while he was gone.
However, in the mornings or the night before, he'd ask me to do chores around the house. Vacuum, do the dishes, unload the dishwasher, dust...whatever was lying around the house, I cleaned up. I guess that was the most interaction we had minus him taking me shopping one day. Which honestly, had to have been awkward. What does a guy in his late 20 know about teenage freak fashion?
Anyway, I remember pretending that I was living on my own when my uncle was at work and I was tidying up. I remember thinking that I couldn't wait until I moved out and was self-reliant. Doing what? I don't know. But I was living on my own dammit, and I can keep the house as clean or as dirty as I want. Heck, I can eat ice cream all day long and my mom won't try to persuade me to eat something that wasn't frozen dairy.
Now that I've been living on my own for the last 3 years, I realize how easy it is to be on my own but also how incredibly hard it is. I miss having mom cook dinner, do laundry, and clean. I miss not having to be responsible. I miss coming home and having everything in order instead of the haphazard mess I leave it in the morning.
Sometimes when I wake up early enough or have enough time, I make my bed. I live in a studio and it seems so much smaller when it's dirty. I try to keep things clean, but it does tend to pile up. Since I have limited space, I have random crap everywhere. Living on my own has its perks though, I don't have to worry that my mess is bothering anyone and I don't have to deal with sharing my space.
The hardest thing about living with Corey was that I felt like I was cleaning up after two people and two dogs. It just made me resentful. It also made me think if my mom felt that way. Corey would do laundry occasionally and sometimes he'd vacuum when I bitched him out for it, but for the most part, I did everything. It doesn't make me want children or even get married if that's what I have to constantly do. It was hard enough coming home from work and trying to figure out dinner when all I wanted to do was veg out and eat like, I dunno, a sandwich. That's another nice part of living alone; you don't have to cook an actual meal unless you really want to.
I know it's part of the growing process. I can't imagine myself living with a roommate after living alone. Although I'm lonely at times, the thought of sharing my space with someone else doesn't sound appealing at all. I was angry at my mom for awhile because I felt incompetent doing laundry or even cooking but it's a learning process and I think I've learned a few tricks of my own. I love living by myself, but sometimes, especially when I come home from business trips, I wish someone was there to clean up and had my laundry done.
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