I recently moved into an apartment by myself. I did not realise how much mental preparation I needed to do this. I mean, I always (sometimes painfully) craved living alone; finding my way to my apartment, jumping over the very prevalent madness and chaos of a megacity like Lagos, and coming home to a space that I absolutely control. Where I could shut out the impossibly distracting noise of the world by turning my key in the hole and escaping into my own sanctuary.
So why was it so hard?
It’s funny; I wanted all this privacy and solitude and peace, but when the moment came to take it, I was flustered beyond reason. A thousand things sprang up in my mind and formed themselves into a small army. When the mind wants to play games, it can be extensively resourceful in creating illusions and reasons to back up its irrationality. I started to think about the fact that my new apartment was in a new area. What would I do if I got attacked by robbers? (This probably comes from a series of traumatising armed robbery experiences as a child.) I had bought a laptop recently. I couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to it. Also, there’s a virus on the loose. What if I came in close contact with an infected person in the process of moving, and I started coughing in the middle of the night with no one around? I found every reason under the sun, but in truth, I was using these reasons (some of which were actually valid) as a crutch.
In the weeks since I’ve been here, I’ve seen that there was nothing to fear. Except, of course, my own need to take an inordinate amount of time to mentally prepare for almost every single change, significant or not. I made pasta in tomato sauce in my kitchen a few days ago. Tonight, I’m playing with the idea of penne pasta in coconut cream sauce. I’ve also set up the apartment as much as I need to (I’m a loose minimalist, so there was not much to set up). I’ve not bought the house plants yet or done the shelving in the bathroom, but my point is I’m here, and I’m living just fine. All the monsters raging behind the curtain seem to have fizzled out in the face of actual action.
I think this experience is symbolic for managing change in life generally. You can fret all you want on one side of the decision, but until you get up and take action, all your analyses will not amount to much. You have to do the thing and manage whatever consequences may come after. Sitting down to analyse is good, but only as long as it doesn’t keep you from doing. I’m grateful to have this little pad to come back to. It does not yet look like the sleek minimalist apartments I spend long hours poring over on Pinterest, but that is a battle for another battleground. Now, allow me please, to sit with myself and a tall glass of sweet solitude.
Enjoyed reading this. Its just like someone said, you don’t know what is on the other side of the door until you open it, all you’d have is assumption.