Moving abroad and living alone in a country that was unknown to me was probably one of the boldest things I've done in my short life. I still wonder how my super-protective parents allowed their 23 year old to get on such a crazy adventure but I'm glad they let me. I was actually a lot ''luckier'' than other ladies who went on a similar adventure as my father lived in the same country and so there was the comfort of knowing that I wasn't really alone and that he was ''only'' a few hours away.
It was exciting at first and I loved having my own space. I loved the freedom and privacy living alone gave me. I loved not having to look presentable on weekends because no one would be seeing me anyway. I loved eating as many ice-creams as I wished without having to hide the box in the freezer from the siblings. I loved waiting for the laundry basket to be overflowing and not having my dear mama's voice. I loved grocery shopping but that was at first because..
Quickly, maybe even too quickly.. I started to resent it. I started to hate coming home to emptiness. I hated the lack of interaction with my family. I hated the loneliness. I hated going grocery shopping because it didn't make sense to go through so much hassle for one person. I started to stay at work longer so I could come home later. For someone who enjoys silence and quiet, I started to hate the silence of my apartment. It was too much. I've spoken to sisters who also experienced living alone and a few have also reported that deafening silence that can rip your soul.
Sometimes, I think that maybe if I was in another country and not KSA.. perhaps the experience would have been less harsh and that perhaps, I would have been able to embrace living alone fuller, that perhaps I would have been able to pursue my hobbies and have an interesting out-of-work life. It's true that the fact that it was KSA did participate in making my living alone difficult. Not because of me per say but because of the way society is set in that country. It's not really made for a female to live by herself. Little to nothing is made to accommodate for such an exception. I only started to ''live'' joyfully again when I moved in with my father and I began to really enjoy life again.
Now, why am I reminiscing you may ask? I'm wondering whether I should give it another shot or not..
Whether I should try again and see how I get on this time?
But there's this unshakeable feeling in my heart that just makes me shiver at the thought of living alone in that country again. Yet at the same time, a tiny part of me (the wild side) wants to see if I can make it different this time.
Let's see what comes my way :)