On My Own // Or That One Time I Made Pancakes

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Author's Note // I wrote this post a year ago today. I had lived in Kansas City for a month-and-a-half when I wrote this, and when I re-read it in my drafts folder, I decided it was still relevant. I must not have published it out of embarrassment, so here goes nothing.

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I've always been a fairly independent individual. Growing up, I had no problem keeping myself entertained. I think being the middle child between two boys left me no choice but to fend for myself on several occasions. Even though I was totally capable of doing things on my own, I obviously preferred having company, especially as a teenager and through college. Many things are better shared with friends. Plus, having people by your side can help make doing things you want to do but don't want to do alone ( or don't want to do and need a little push ) much easier.

I've been fortunate enough to always be surrounded by loved ones and have not strayed too far from home. However, for the past month-and-a-half, I have been living in a new city where I knew absolutely no one. No family near by. Not a single friend within a three-hour radius. 

Many people thought I was crazy and I would agree with them. In fact, I was terrified. But this one crazy move has taught me more about myself and given me so much hope, I'd like to think this was the bravest thing I've done so far. 

I've learned that I am capable of doing so much more than I ever thought I could. For instance, on Sunday morning I was lying on the couch, hungover, craving pancakes. Fun fact, I've never made pancakes. Ever. I've always had someone else nearby who could make them for me. ( In fact, I didn't even know if I could make pancakes without Bisquick. ) So you know what I did?

I got up off my ass and made a fucking pancake. ( With the help of Pinterest. )

Is this the lamest example of how "capable" I've become? Absolutely. But I think it's important to realize that the old me would have begged my roommates to whip up a batch of hotcakes or to ride along with me to the nearest McDonald's drive-thru. And if those options failed, I would have continued to snooze on the couch, dreaming about a damn pancake.

But because I no longer have the luxury of living within the same postal code – or state for that matter – as my friends and family, I have to rely on myself. And even though this isn't exactly something I'm unfamiliar with, there's a difference. 

The difference has proven to be for the better, though. I now know that I am capable of making friends on my own. I can make conversation with complete strangers and adapt to strange environments. I can throw myself into unfamiliar territory and be excited rather than scared. I can live by myself and keep myself busy. And I can make a fucking pancake.

Learning this about myself makes me feel much more at ease about my future because I know that wherever I end up and regardless as to whoever is ( or isn't ) by my side, I know I am brave enough and capable enough to handle whatever comes my way.

And on a less serious note, living alone makes all of my weird habits much more visible. For instance, I have a terrible habit of opening cupboards and not shutting them. The first few times I came home to find more than half of my kitchen cupboards open, I thought I had been robbed. Turns out, there was no one else to blame but myself.