Having lived independently for nearly 2 years, I had thought I had a fair grasp of the concept of self sufficiency. Sadly since living in a studio apartment I have come to know the error of my misconception.
Up until the age of 18, like the majority of children bought up in a structured, nurturing family unit, I lived with my parents and suffice to say I didn't do a lot. I would do 'chores' around the house for pocket money, but if I neglected to then it wasn't the end of the world. Nine times out of ten my adoring and long suffering mother would perform the task that I, in my reckless youth, had abondoned for more enjoyable pursuits. For that I am ever grateful, however I am now beginning to regret my luxurious younger years for the binary opposite it now presents.
At 18 I moved out of the family home and in to live with my Fiancee and her family. This is where the confusion began with the defining of terms. As i now paid my way, with my own money earned through hard graft, towards bills and food (albiet at a reduced rate) I considered myself independent. Good egg that I am, I even helped out around the house free of charge. Under my naive view, me paying for the services rendered out of my own wage made me dependant on none but, well... me. Independent and self sufficient are synonomous, therefore naturally I also considered myself to fall under this weighty classification.
I can now safely say I was NOT independent, nor anywhere near. Although I paid towards the food (and they kindly included rent and bills within that payment), I was ignorant of the myriad of tasks it takes to run a household. Since truly living on my own, in just the first week, I have Shopped (food and non food) twice; done the laundry including bedding twice; cooked (even for others); and cleaned my apartment. This is a stark wake-up call.
The problem of living alone is when your friends call and say "come out, we're going for a drink" and you leave (abondoning the mountain of plates, pots, pans and cutlery that are rotting in your miniscule sink), that mountain is still there when you come back. When you then go to bed instead, shamelessly shirking your responsibilities, they are STILL there in the morning. The harsh reality is there is no-one there to do it for you.
This week has certainly broadened my horizons and to the two matriarchal figures I have lived with in my life, I apologise forthwith for every time I have ever taken you for granted.
Sayonara
Simon Birkmyre
Up until the age of 18, like the majority of children bought up in a structured, nurturing family unit, I lived with my parents and suffice to say I didn't do a lot. I would do 'chores' around the house for pocket money, but if I neglected to then it wasn't the end of the world. Nine times out of ten my adoring and long suffering mother would perform the task that I, in my reckless youth, had abondoned for more enjoyable pursuits. For that I am ever grateful, however I am now beginning to regret my luxurious younger years for the binary opposite it now presents.
At 18 I moved out of the family home and in to live with my Fiancee and her family. This is where the confusion began with the defining of terms. As i now paid my way, with my own money earned through hard graft, towards bills and food (albiet at a reduced rate) I considered myself independent. Good egg that I am, I even helped out around the house free of charge. Under my naive view, me paying for the services rendered out of my own wage made me dependant on none but, well... me. Independent and self sufficient are synonomous, therefore naturally I also considered myself to fall under this weighty classification.
I can now safely say I was NOT independent, nor anywhere near. Although I paid towards the food (and they kindly included rent and bills within that payment), I was ignorant of the myriad of tasks it takes to run a household. Since truly living on my own, in just the first week, I have Shopped (food and non food) twice; done the laundry including bedding twice; cooked (even for others); and cleaned my apartment. This is a stark wake-up call.
The problem of living alone is when your friends call and say "come out, we're going for a drink" and you leave (abondoning the mountain of plates, pots, pans and cutlery that are rotting in your miniscule sink), that mountain is still there when you come back. When you then go to bed instead, shamelessly shirking your responsibilities, they are STILL there in the morning. The harsh reality is there is no-one there to do it for you.
This week has certainly broadened my horizons and to the two matriarchal figures I have lived with in my life, I apologise forthwith for every time I have ever taken you for granted.
Sayonara
Simon Birkmyre
Nisshin, Japan
Haha, Bless. Good practice for next year :P Glad you're learning new things while you're out there!
ReplyDeleteShaun Beale
I agree with the above.
ReplyDeleteHopefully you will be better prepared for living when July comes!
Alex White
Missing you Simon! :) Glad you're learning life skills. I will expect your home next year to be perfecto when I come round :) x
ReplyDelete