Once upon a time, I lived alone. I was a bold young thing who ate cereal for dinner and chose the paint colors I wanted. I was accustomed to sleeping by myself, though I daydreamed about a time when a single bed would no longer suffice. In the comfort of my own apartment, I felt safe, but one summer, I pushed the envelope with a house- and dog-sitting job in rural Western Massachusetts. Molly the Labrador retriever and I would be roommates in a log cabin in the Eastern foothills of the Berkshires for a month.
I was 25 years old, and it was my final summer vacation—the three precious months between my first and second years of graduate school—and I was determined to enjoy it. So I subleased my apartment in town and patched together a summer of house-sitting, camp counseling, and traveling. It was a near-ideal situation, but on my first night alone in the cabin, I had second thoughts. I was brave, and I was smart, but apparently, I was also afraid of the dark. Not the dark you experience in town, but the kind that creeps out of the woods to wrap a small cabin in a seemingly unnatural stillness. In truth, it’s probably the most natural thing in the world. And I desperately missed my studio apartment facing the 24-hour Dunkin Donuts.
Molly the Lab would be no match for the bears and psychopaths I imagined lurking outside my bedroom window. After a few nights of insomnia, I trained myself to sleep alone in the cabin. It took prayer, meditation, and probably some bedtime phone calls to my parents back in Minnesota. I also welcomed company and had visits from a college friend and the eccentric guy I was casually dating at the time (But since he’d once told me that he thought it would be exciting to rob a bank—a seemingly viable option for him—I wasn’t sure if I was more or less comforted by his presence).
The month in the cabin holds sweet memories for me—picking fresh blueberries in the yard, listening to a Joni Mitchell album on repeat, and indulging in baked goods from the Williamsburg General Store at the bottom of the dirt road. On hot afternoons, my guests and I would hike up the road to Chapel Brook, a little swimming hole with natural water slides. But more than anything, I think of that cabin as I place where I looked fear in the eye and said, “F*ck you. I’m stronger than you.”
I need to remember that part of me—the part that pushes back rather than backing down. The part that does difficult or scary things because I know they’ll be good for me. That part of me is a tough mother-you-know-what, and I need to embrace her.
How about you?
*****
I Want to Know
- What are you afraid of?
- Have you ever lived alone?
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Emma! I love this post! I feel the same way- not sure exactly what to do about some things that are scary, and I am dying for my young, feistier self to emerge. Sometimes it feels like there is just so much more at stake now and I have found myself staying in the “safe” zone more than I want to admit. How to know when to let go and jump?!?!
Feistier is exactly what I mean! I’m kind of sorry to hear that you can relate. Maybe it’s a mom thing? I don’t know, but I really want to be able to take some risks still. I dare say that we should try to get together sometime in 2012!
Yes! Lets get together- I miss seeing you and would love to watch our kids play together.
I live alone now and have lived alone for the last 5 years or so. My biggest fear is that I will forever be alone. I will be sick like my mother but not have anyone to help take care of me. I need to just take a chance in my life for once and jump into the fog.
I’m not sure what kind of chances you’re thinking of taking, Jen, but I admire your desire to do so.
Living alone can be great, and I think it’s wonderful for women in particular to experience that, but I can definitely relate to not wanting to live alone forever. Companionship, community, and love make life all the richer. I truly hope that you find what you’re looking for!
I LOVE this retrospective and channeling that inner bad ass to face some fears now. That is so empowering!! It reminds me of a story I told M this weekend over our date night out. My first night living alone in my apartment and I thought for sure it would be a restless night. but I slept better than I had the entire YEAR previously. Because it was my place, I felt secure, surrounded by other apartments, and ready to take on my life. You’ve inspired me to blog about it, because I too want to keep facing down some fears. Great great post!
jobo recently posted..On any given run (with M).
I can’t wait to read your post on this! Channeling your inner bad ass is a good way to put it.
[...] Want to tell fear to f*ck off? Life writer Emma Wilhelm (wait, that’s me!) asks, “What are you afraid of?” [...]
I have never lived alone. I’ve had my own room…
What am I afraid of? Losing my kids, my family, someone I love. But I’m much stronger than I used to be. I used to have very low self-confidence. As it’s grown (although I still struggle quite a bit,) my fears have slowed. I used to fear walking through a restaurant. I feared that people were watching and judging – thinking I was fat or whatever. I’ve come to the point where – for the most part – I don’t care what people think. It helps that I’ve dropped 30 pounds, too!
Although I haven’t lived alone, I have no fear of going out to eat alone or going to see a movie alone. It doesn’t make me sad or lonely – it gives me much needed alone time!
I like doing things alone, too, though I rarely do so anymore.
It’s great that you feel like you’re gaining confidence. Being in your 30s has its benefits!
Em! I hold the memory of that visit with you, whilst cabin-sitting, near and dear. What a fun, sweet, lovely little time we had. And those sandwiches in that nearby town — my God they were amazing! But that’s not why I’m writing — I had to laugh reading this, as I’m still working on mustering the courage to flip fear the big ol’ bird (hopefully the double fisted bird when it happens, in a sort of bobbing motion). Regardless, I recently stayed in my new flat alone for the first time — SINCE SOMEONE TRIED TO BREAK IN THROUGH THE WINDOW — and around midnight, after fighting off (unsuccessfully) recollections of every horror/abduction/murder/otherwise violent film I’d ever seen, barricaded (and I mean this quite literally) myself in my bedroom via LOADS of heavy furniture then moved all of my pillows and blankets into the master bathroom, locked that door, and finally slept. Yes, that really happened. A self-created panic room, albeit one in which my bed butted up to the loo. Hindsight is a great comedian. I’ll think of you next time, all alone in the deep dark woods… I don’t know how you did it. Quite a feat! Big love to you from HK, where I survived the last few nights but am now quite happy to have sleeping buddy back from his travels… xoxo
OMG! I laughed and laughed when I read this. For one, I’ve been missing you this week (maybe because of this post). Secondly, if anyone is more neurotic than I am about staying alone, it’s YOU (and I mean that w/ the utmost affection). I remember your stories from Jackson, WY.
What I didn’t say in my post is that I made my mom come stay overnight on Saturday when Josh was off camping at a beer fest. Pathetic, right?
I don’t blame you for being terrified. If someone tried to BREAK IN THROUGH THE WINDOW, I might never sleep again. I would most assuredly bring my kids into the bed to sleep with me, because that provide some kind of magical protection, right? Nobody said these things are rational.
Glad your man is home and you’re sleeping soundly. And thank you for the visual of you flipping anybody or anything the double-fisted bird.