“We’re happy, free, confused and lonely at the same time. It’s miserable and magical.”- Taylor Swift, 22
I’m well aware of how fed up we all are with talking about the pandemic. Trust me, there’s nothing I want more than to just forget that the last two years ever happened. But to stop talking about COVID would mean I have to stop obnoxiously reflecting on how far I’ve come as a person. And as a student who only turned twenty a few months ago, despite a global pandemic, I have remained very focused on my own (wait for it) personal growth.
I December 2021, I lived alone for the first time since I was put in isolation in 2020, and I was pretty apprehensive. In November 2020 I was a few months out of a long-term relationship and back at university for the first time in over six months. Needless to say, I have been in more stable places emotionally. On top of this, we were in that weird time where lateral flow tests were not yet readily available, about two weeks before we entered a second, ‘circuit-breaker’ lockdown. The prospect of living alone has never really phased me, but my first taste of being truly alone was winter 2020 when what I thought would be an opportunity to get ahead on work became a liminal period in which I felt some of the highest highs and lowest lows of my adult life.
Before isolation, I could live without seeing my friends for a couple of days, but the knowledge that my housemates were just beyond my door, still together, took its toll. This, combined with my complete inability to take myself out on a walk, to the cinema or even to sit and work in a coffee shop had pushed my mental health to the limit. Day eight of isolation saw me make one of the saddest playlists possible and have a breakdown on a yoga mat, completely overwhelmed by the fact that the world hadn’t stopped when I went into isolation; I still had work to do, people to reassure that I was “doing okay.” My time in isolation wasn’t the romantic period of self-reflection I had anticipated. Instead, I was crying in pigeon pose.
So when I realised that December 2021 would see me live alone, truly alone, for the first time in over a year, I was pretty nervous. Nervous enough that I was considering going back to my parents’ house for longer than I had to. Isolation had changed my opinion on living alone, and I was worrying about spending time only in my own company—one yoga mat can only take so many tears. I was anxious about filling the week, always being distracted from my thoughts. But December 2021 was different from November 2020; in short, I was a lot happier, to begin with. Shockingly, it’s a lot easier to spend time with yourself when you’re in a good mental place.
Admittedly, I did intend to use the week to work on my dissertation, which did not go to plan. Rather, the lack of immediate deadlines essentially meant that I crashed hard the second my last flatmate went home. I spent the week wandering around the city, seeing films and drinking coffee in a way that would have been impossible during term time. I enjoyed my own company, in the same way that I had before isolation, and although I didn’t accomplish anything, I didn’t feel the familiar panic that might usually take over my brain. People need time to recharge, and I have always done this by taking time to be by myself, doing nothing in particular. It’s been a relief to reclaim this part of myself, to realise that we can recover parts of ourselves we thought might be lost to COVID.
I think a lot of being in your twenties is realising that a lot of the cliche things people say about life are true. Spending time alone doesn’t have to be lonely, but being forced to remove yourself from others’ lives completely can be crushing; my FOMO (fear of missing out) was raging in November 2020. Complete isolation was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, and in all honesty, I’m not sure if I would handle it any better now. Surprise surprise, the element of choice makes all the difference and choosing to spend some time by myself felt liberating at a time when everyone has been trying to make up for the “lost time” of the last two years. Taylor had it right when she said that we can be happy, confused and lonely at the same time. Although I might say that it’s either miserable or magical.
Words by Neve Atkinson.