Our theme for the month of March is “I was wrong about.”

I was wrong about living alone.

Living alone definitely has its perks, and for a while, I enjoyed all of them as much as I could.

Living alone felt like success, adulthood, and individuality. It felt really good to make a space my own. I had carved out a place in Durham that really felt like home.

I am one of the first women in my family to be able to financially support myself and live alone. This felt big. Others got married, or lived with parents or partners—which I’m absolutely not knocking—but this felt like a shift. A ripple. My younger cousins started to see it as something possible.

This all made me feel like Carrie Bradshaw but, you know—the brown, lesbian, feminist, less narcissistic, midwestern version.

I got to play my music out loud while I cooked. Never had to worry about sharing the TV. I didn’t need to check with the housemates on whether or not I could bring someone over. I got to throw parties, gatherings, and kickbacks. I could imbue my space with “me.”

And that was really good. For a bit.

But living alone comes with responsibilities. Which is cool! I liked the idea of taking charge of what I was willing to pay for, put up with, etc when it related to my living space. I was in my Erin Brockovich era, reading the fine print. But in reading the fine print, you realize you’re paying a lot for things you don’t really need, and footing the bill all on your own.

Woof.

Annoying. But doable.

Grocery shopping was also really fun. No territorial fridge politics. If there’s a weird goo, you know it’s your weird goo, and you can build the kitchen around your own routine.

But cooking just for one is kinda sad.

It’s also kinda hard. I started switching to frozen veggies because I wasn’t going through the fresh ones fast enough. Plus, without the added eyes, I started cooking more for convenience and not for fun. Lots of sad microwave dog-food-like meals.

And I started to miss things I didn’t expect to miss.

I missed cooking with people. Going to sporting events just to support a housemate. Carpooling to midnight ice cream runs. Walking home from a bar, tipsy, together. Sitting at the kitchen table doing emails, paying bills, just—existing alongside someone else.

I missed sharing a gallon of oat milk—because who really goes through a whole gallon of alternative milk alone?

I missed throwing parties together. Sitting outside with a glass of wine, unwinding, talking about our days. I missed getting advice. Watching movies. Learning from each other. Laughing with each other.

I really missed the conversations at the dinner table. We talked about anything and everything, and pretty much everyone had a vastly different experience or opinion.

There’s so much good to communal living—beyond the glamor I’m remembering. I’ve always had housemates who challenged me. Who shifted how I think, often without even knowing it. And when shit hit the fan in my life—and it did—they showed up. Made sure I was eating. Checked in. Made space. Supported me in ways that changed how I understand care.

Living alone gave me freedom. But living with others gave me support.

And more than that—it gave me a version of myself I actually like better.

The freedom of living alone is good. But I think I like who I am better when I have housemates. I share more. I’m more conscious of my time and space. There’s more intention and care that goes into yourself and others when you’re thinking about the whole, not the one.

There are a lot of reasons I am moving out of my Carrie Bradshaw apartment. Most have to do with not-so-neighboring neighbors. But I am very excited to be moving in with some cool new housemates. I used to think living alone meant you’ve reached peak adulthood. I mean, it is a huge milestone.

But I don’t think adulthood is about proving you can do everything on your own.

I think it might be about knowing you don’t have to.

Izzy Nunez

Izzy Nunez graduated from Calvin in 2022 after studying graphic design and sociology. Today she lives in North Carolina where she is living out her dream of being a graphic designer.