A Room of My Own?

Next year will be my first year as a student without a roommate. I’ll be sharing an apartment (but not a bedroom) with two other dear friends. While I’m so looking forward to the adventures of next year (my stir-crazy friends tell me how blissful it is have your “own room,” your “own space,” to decorate and live in and love). They describe what the color scheme will be, what furniture they’ll use and begin decopaging photo frames.

I have yet to feel that way.

In fact, just thinking about having my own room gives me a vague sense of loneliness and claustrophobia. What will I do with a room all to myself?

Yes, I’m an introvert. But college taught me that I’m an introvert who loves being around people.

Freshman Year: Kelsey and I shared nightly stories of our new friends, class lectures and what we had been reading throughout the day.

Sophomore Year: Kelsey and I shared nightly prayer requests (crazy how intimately you get to know someone when you’re in communal prayer for each other).

Junior Year: Amanda-the-amazing-art-genius would often stay late working on projects in Hanes Hall, so we developed a secret bedtime language: I’d always leave a light on for her — unless she texted me that she was pulling an all-nighter. Then, we’d share a POT of morning coffee.

Senior Year: Paige and I shared not only a bedroom, but a kitchen, closet and washer/dryer. This led to too many deep, late-night discussions, musings on life and etc to detail.

Summer 2012: Sharing a room with Alli has been probably the most comfortable living situation ever — she’s so easy going, and we share nearly all adventures together.

This is not to say that I’ve never had moments of desperately needing quiet solitude and space. But, that’s been very rare. Nearly all hours of the day, I’m eager to hear stories and experiences and share in philosophical/existential conversations. Those who know me as an introvert probably find this somewhat contradictory. But let’s put it this way: I don’t meet my group of friends at the bar for Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights (that’s my introvert), however, I hate being alone for too long — and I can even feel that way in a house of 7 girls. I don’t like sitting in my room for hours on end in a virtual world, without seeing a soul.

I treasure having a friend who greets me in the mornings and evenings with a gracious smile.

I love waking up to another softly breathing human across the room; I love going to sleep with the comforting knowledge that they’ll be the first to wake should anything happen (ie: the bed intruder or random killer black widow spider).

I realize that I’ve been blessed these past four years with the most thoughtful, generous, easy-going roommates a girl could possibly have. And I also realize that living so closely with another soul isn’t always the most glamorous or enjoyable (given they’re privvy to your worse days…).

But I’ve been thinking a lot about living in a my room recently, and I felt sad when I just realized I will no longer hear morning or evening tiptoes or share fuzzy, half-awake conversations with an intimately close friend. That’s not even mentioning the fact that I’ll have to decorate an entire room by myself; this thought alone makes me want to hit my head against the wall a couple hundred times. So, uh, Ikea…? Any ideas? I’m a scotch-tape, newspaper headlines and handwritten letters kind of decorator…Oops…

What am to do with a Room of My Own next year? Is sleeping in your own room just a part of the whole “growing up” journey?

Too much philosophy on this breezy, carefree day,
Shannon

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