Every time I leave my house at night, I think I should never do it ever again.
There is just something so sinister and scary about life after sunset, and the older I get, the better I am becoming at recognising it and understanding its effect on me.
I have always liked going out to parties or events or clubs, and I have spent the better part of my adult life thus far mingling and networking. However, of late, I find myself waking up the day after going out wishing I had stayed home.
Whenever I spend tons of time at home by myself, I truly am always happier. For some reason, these days, being alone really has me feeling full of joy and energy. I often find myself struggling to leave my solitude, but am often forced to for food or other errands.
I do not know when I became like this because I remember that about five years ago, I was a very sociable person. Now, slowly but surely, I have become more introverted, and I avoid interacting with people as much as possible.
This used to just mean shopping during less busy hours, not leaving my place for days at a time, becoming engrossed in work or projects, not really seeing my friends much. The solitary routine was, however, often interrupted by nights at the club or dinner and a glass of wine somewhere nice, and I always remember having a great time.
Over the last couple of years, I have become a bit more sensitive, I think. Things affect me more, and I carry hurt, sadness and embarrassment longer than ever.
If I wake up after a night out, I am now more likely to feel anxious about what happened the night before. I often find myself agonising over every little thing I said or did while unwinding or letting loose.
I cannot help but feel exhausted by what I experienced, and then being further exhausted from obsessing over it all. So, I then have to force myself to just get over it.
I actually somehow manage to convince myself that I should remain calm and not spiral into insanity. So, I eventually end up going out again and then feeling exactly the same and then going through this cycle on and on and on.
Truthfully, the times when I am happiest are when I become a hermit that no one sees. Even the other people who live around me never know if I am even still around, and my neighbours are shocked the few times they see me emerge onto the street.
Going out interrupts my fasting, sleeping and working schedules, it leaves me tired, stressed and with less money in my bank account.
That is why I cannot figure out why I keep doing it. I wonder why I cannot just stay away from something that actually always leaves me wishing I had stayed home.
I wish it were easy to take a decision about myself and then stick to it. It is like my relationship with food. I can go a good couple of weeks adhering to all my strict rules, but after some time I break them to indulge. After enjoying the rule break for a few moments, hours, days, I settle into the familiar guilt that pushes me to follow the rules even more than before.
After all this, I still find myself repeatedly breaking my resolve and continually being upset about it. I just cannot seem to break out of the cycle.
But that is not to say that I will not try. I am only 27. So, it is definitely not old age that is calling me to stay home more often. I think I genuinely am just adapting to what the world is like now, while simultaneously managing my own trauma, insecurities, fears and all else that often hold me back.
I am actually looking forward to growing more and more into a person who listens to themselves more often and chooses what is best for my mental well-being.
The last time I went out will not be the last time I go out. I am still going to rave and party hard (and work extremely hard, too), but I am going to find ways to do that in ways that do not terrify me.
* Anne Hambuda is a poet, writer, social commentator and media personality. Email her at annehambuda@gmail.com for more.
