Independence is one of my favourite words in existence. It is the chief reason why I like to do things on my own, the reason why I hate feeling needy and the reason why I suffer from an incurable case of Hero Syndrome.
My closest friends have often heard me say that I am drawn to broken things because I am broken myself. The psychoanalysis of this theory is a story for another Tuesday, but I think it means that I am afraid of so much even though it hardly ever shows. Fearfulness is an exhausting habit; a lot like that bed fellow who is constantly nagging you about something, everything, and yet you are forced to spend the night with the same burger night after unfortunate night.
I recently bought a ticket out of my old life and I must say that it is absolutely liberating. I have always been a meticulous planner, so I have the rest of the year laid out tentatively and only make adjustments when it is needful. People like myself are said to miss out on the simple joys of life; we never stop to smell the roses. So I took a giant leap and did what I have wanted to do since I was 18. I left home.
Slowly but surely, I am realizing how wide the umbrella of comfort was spread over me at mother’s house. I will spend twice as much money as I do every week because of transport. I will need to start buying kitchen utensils, a mattress and cooking gas. I want to get an orthopedic mattress, by the way, and I want to have at least one non-stick saucepan and frying pan with a glass lid. I will also need to pay rent and bills – water, electricity, garbage collection, etc. Thankfully, that is a little familiar, having been the home accountant for about a decade simply because I like to budget.
In a nutshell, fun and responsibility are about to commence their co-existence in my life story and I look forward to the marriage.
So cheers to new experiences and her spawn!