This Is What No One Tells You About Being Single For The First Time In Your 20s

At 25, I find myself fully and actually single for the first time in my adult life. As someone who is competent in almost every aspect of her life, it took me by surprise how incompetent I was at being alone. I felt like a newborn trying to take her first steps in a big, scary world that moved too fast and wanted too much. I was good at being a girlfriend, I was good at being cared for. Taking care of myself? Not so much. 

The first day I was single, I went out shopping and saw the guy in front of me in line open the door of the soda freezer and pull out a cold glass bottle of Fanta, almost in slow motion, and I saw it dripping with beads of condensation. I passed the freezer, opened it delicately, and picked up one for myself. I said nothing as I walked over to the register, scanned it, and checked out. On the walk home, I popped it open and drank it gloriously, insanely proud of myself for choosing to do something I wanted for once. Grass is always greener and I was greedy to want. 

I was enthralled with the feeling and spent the summer chasing it. Finally single after years of desiring it and not letting myself act on it, I was ravenous for adventure and free will. Frequent hookups, rebounds, and spontaneous travel marked my reckless, thrill-seeking mindset as I subconsciously tried to fill a humongous ex-sized hole in my life. I had no sense of my identity without him—we had done everything together. Now, all I wanted in this journey was to find myself again. Find the me that was content before love drove me sick. Eventually, the summer flings and extreme sports faded away and I was left to deal with the wreckage. I was alone and I was the problem. 

The path back to normalcy wasn’t easy. I immediately fell into a deep, steady depression, which lasted for the better part of a few months. A consistent stream of Netflix and Seamless kept me alive as I spent day and night hiding in my bed, only exiting to pee and refusing to shower for days. I worked from home, which made it worse, as I could cocoon the days away in my high-rise and not even realize the seasons had changed. I was bitter, angry, and severely stormy, refusing to trust my own instincts or any men in my life. In a city frazzled with the desire to love or be loved, I felt alone in my resentment of it all.

I was lost. I had spent years accepting less from my significant other because I had feared just this. Being alone. I was codependent and thought that was love, and I held on to the toxicity with every fiber of my being. While I knew ending it was what was best for me, I refused to do so, as it would mean years of tears, fighting, and emotional damage had been for nothing. A complete and utter waste of time because I had failed to keep the one person I loved around. In all honesty, I was terrified of addressing how much I hated myself. I hated who the anger and distrust had turned me into and how this hate drove me to accept less than I deserved. I was so focused on not letting go so I wouldn’t be unhappy that I didn’t even recognize how unhappy I already was. Blaming him for our problems allowed me to avoid addressing my own flaws or notice my own toxic tendencies that had contributed to our eventual demise. 

Being single sure does stop all of that bullshit in its tracks. Suddenly, the music stopped. The fog dissipated and it was just me and my reflection in the mirror. I realized for the rest of my life, I was the only person who would be living with myself every day. Searching outside myself for a man to fulfill me will never work, and in order for me to be a good partner for anyone, I had to become a good partner for myself. I started taking small steps towards finding myself. It wasn’t going to be easy or immediate, but at least I was finally living in my truth. I began looking forward, trying new things again, and allowing myself to start doing things by myself.

I was redefining what being Alone™ meant to me, which was not something to fear but something to embrace. Time with yourself to listen to your intuition loud and proud, refusing to hamper it ever again. Facing your fears head-on and venturing out into the great unknown, believing in yourself in a way only you are able to. Eventually, I began to feel what I consider the Runner’s’ High of finally being single in your 20s… inner peace. Despite still feeling deeply uncomfortable in my new skin, I am moving forward and that’s all that matters.