I’ll be honest — when I moved into my first apartment after graduating from college, I didn’t know the difference between Tide and Cascade pods, or how to use a plunger.
But to be fair, I didn’t have the “typical” college experience.
The COVID-19 pandemic prevented me from staying in the dorms in 2020, and even after campus reopened, the cost and comfort of living with my parents kept me home through the end of junior year.
Instead of fostering independence as I’d planned, I continued residing at home, with my family taking care of me, cooking meals, running the washing machine, and restocking my favorite cereal.
By senior year, I felt pressure to move out and grow up
I was raised in Manhattan, and when I decided to go to school just one subway stop away from home, I felt behind in some metaphorical “race” to grow up.
Everyone I knew was out of town, joining sororities and exploring new territory, while I was stuck in the past.
By senior year of college, all my friends were either living in the dorms or in their own places, but I was still at home.
So, as I entered my final year of school, I decided to start looking for a place of my own, without my parents’ assistance. I felt like I would never truly consider myself a real “adult” unless I took on the process by myself.
After a few touring mishaps, the third apartment building I visited seemed like the perfect fit. It wasn’t furnished yet, but it already felt like home. It even had wooden floors that reminded me of the room I grew up in. I signed my lease one week later.
However, I quickly became overwhelmed by the moving process. As I stared at boxes piled to the ceiling, I didn’t know where to start.
I started tackling the space, excited to see my NYC-style Barbie Dream House vision come to life. But the more I unpacked, the more things began to fall apart.
My mattress delivery was delayed, the trendy LED-adorned bed frame I picked out didn’t fit through the doorway, and my WiFi didn’t work. Oh, and instead of pink kitchen tools, I’d accidentally ordered green.
It felt like no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get anything right. I started to wonder if moving out was a mistake. Maybe I just wasn’t ready for the responsibility.
The first evening I spent alone in the apartment, I broke down. As I stared at half-open boxes, a TV that wasn’t operating properly, and an empty bedroom, my life felt out of place.
I was in the eye of the hurricane when it came to adulting, and it felt like I would never be able to figure things out on my own. But then I realized — maybe I didn’t have to.
I thought pushing my parents away would make me feel more grown up, but I learned asking for help is healthy and normal. I delegated tasks: my dad helped me fix my router, my mom accompanied me to Home Depot to purchase new utensils, and my friends even pitched in to help me find a new bed frame.
Once they set me up for success, I felt much less overwhelmed. My home began to come together, and instead of feeling scared, I was excited to embark on this new adventure.
Living alone has still presented its challenges, but I’ve learned to embrace the chaos
I’ll be honest — when my parents, friends, and the movers were all gone, it was pretty disheartening. As I sat in the quiet of my apartment, merely hours after I had officially moved in, I missed the buzz.
I never thought I would say it, but I craved the noise of my dad blasting football on the television or my mom squeezing my dog’s toy. The silence felt deafening. But as days passed, I began to find peace in the quiet.
Now, I savor solo moments that I might not have had the chance to enjoy while living with my family.
I can play my Peloton class at full volume without disturbing anyone and experiment in the kitchen without my mom roasting my cooking skills. To be honest, though, curating a menu beyond scrambled eggs or a toasted bagel is still a work in progress.
Now, I’ve found that solo living has become less scary and more of a superpower. As I take care of my home, I’m instilled with a new sense of empowerment that fuels other areas of my life.
If I can budget to pay my rent, then surely, I can learn how to save money for international travel. If I can practice patience in communicating with my landlord about maintenance issues, I can also extend those lessons toward work.
Plus, learning how to clean spills on the rug was a major help when I eventually started a side hustle as a dog sitter.
I’ve learned to embrace the chaos and celebrate the small wins rather than put myself down for my failures.
Now, as I stare out at my fully-furnished space, I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished, and I’m looking forward to continuing to grow in the comfort of my very own home.
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