Introducing 'Can I Do It Alone?'

Sharing lessons from the solo life

It was 10:30 on a Wednesday morning, and I hadn’t gotten dressed yet. Hadn’t showered or brushed my teeth. Lounging on the love seat by the fireplace, I had been writing in my journal when I fell asleep.

Beep, beep, beep. I shot awake as the massive propane delivery truck backed into my driveway. Oh no! Ray is here and look at me. Perhaps he already saw me through the window, head back, mouth open, snoring in my PJs.

I jumped into my clothes. I like to go out and visit with Ray while he’s filling my tank. But it was not Ray; it was another guy, and he was already tucking my receipt inside my screen door when I came out of the bedroom somewhat dressed. I waved and hollered, “Thank you.”

I would probably not interact with another human all day.

I live alone in the forest near Newport, Oregon. I get more visits from elk and rabbits than people. At 72, I’m what some folks call an Elder Orphan. My husband died. My parents died. I have no children or grandchildren, and none of my family lives in Oregon.

Many people in my situation would give up their homes to live with family or in some kind of senior residence. Society tells us we should not live alone. We’re too old. It’s not safe. It’s not practical. We’ll be too lonely. What if we get sick?

But I like my house, I like where I live, and I treasure the community I have developed since my husband and I left the crowds and traffic of Silicon Valley to live on the Oregon coast. I play piano at my church, jam with friends at the senior center, trade stories and poems with writer friends, and wave to the neighbors on my daily walks. Plus, I’m still working. At 72? You bet. I love my writing and my music. Why quit?

I know that someday something may force me to give up my independent life. But for now, and for the past 13 years, I’m doing it on my own. My father, who lived to 97, lived alone for 17 years after my mother died. He would not consider any other option.

I admit that living alone is challenging. What do we do when the sink clogs, the car quits, the dog dies, or we get sick? How do we cook for one person without eating too much or forgetting to eat at all? What about traveling or going to restaurants as a party of one? How do we manage holidays and birthdays alone?

We can’t do everything alone. Some things require more than one set of hands, but we can do a lot more than people who have never lived by themselves might think.

Some people are just not happy being alone. I understand. Some days I hate it, but I have realized I could surround myself with human beings, but none of them would be that one person I loved the most. We all need to choose the lifestyle that works best for us. For me, today, that means continuing on my own, even if I get caught by the propane guy in my jammies.

Did you know that 27.6 percent of U.S. homes are occupied by just one person? Most of those are seniors, and of those, most of them are women. [U.S. Census] It’s not always easy, but we’re not helpless. If the time comes when we can’t do it alone, we’ll be the first to recognize it and make changes. Meanwhile, can we do it alone?

Hell yes.

I have started this Substack to share what I am learning about living alone. I have been collecting information for a future book, but books take years, and I’m eager to talk about this now. Please click on the subscribe button. It will not cost you any money. At this point, I do not want or need anyone to pay to read what I write here. Let’s get the discussion rolling.