This time last year, I was miserable.
I was living in an apartment I truly hated and I was still painfully, achingly single and hurting over my ex. I was in a sorry state to say the least. Angry, lonely, scared and scarred.
I had a lot of good things in my life too — friends, family, a career I enjoyed along with a life of travel that I loved. But ultimately I was sad and broken. And the fourplex I lived in further compounded my misery — it was dark and old, hardly any natural light. I could hear every single thing my neighbors did. One time, when I returned home from a trip, my apartment was filled with flies. Why? Well this old house had a lot of space under it and some animal had accidentally crawled up underneath and then into the walls.
And then it DIED. And my landlord said there was nothing to do but wait till the flies ate the body. *Shudders*
I. was. MISERABLE.
I have often been given the advice that you truly have to enjoy your life as a single person before you’re ready for a relationship.
I call bullshit.