Names have been changed.
About a year ago, I moved in with my foster parents, Michael and Diane, after two years in the foster care system. I felt anxious around them; our conversations were polite, not real or natural. There wasn’t much food in their fridge, and I had to buy my own soap, shampoo, charging block, coat, socks, and school supplies. I wondered if I should ask them to buy me food, clothes, and other necessities, but I didn’t want to make them feel ashamed for not knowing that this was part of being a foster parent.
I did, however, have a room to myself for the first time since I’d left my mom’s. While living with my volatile mother was tough, I knew I had a space to myself. It’s exhausting for me being around people, worrying about what to say, how to say it, and how to act. Having my own room lets me be myself.
After a month at their house, Diane told me that Olivia, a foster kid who moved in with them seven years earlier, wanted to come back during her winter break from college. She would be sharing my room. Soon after that, Michael removed my bed and replaced it with two smaller beds at either side of the room. As Thanksgiving came, I became more and more nervous about losing my privacy and my peace.
Sure enough, after Olivia moved in, my life got much more stressful. She played her music loud and used the big overhead light instead of my preference: lamps, natural light, or the TV. She turned the lights off when I did homework, and kept them on when I wanted to sleep. She talked loudly on the phone and invited her friends into our room without asking me.
I wanted to tell her these things bothered me, but I wanted her to like me. So I kept quiet even as she disrupted my life.
After a month or two, Olivia told me she thought I was weird. I tried to act as normal as I could around her, but knowing she saw me as weird made me horribly self-conscious around her. I was always afraid I’d mess up and embarrass myself.
Worst of all, Olivia didn’t go back to college after Christmas. This was my reality now.
As my last semester of high school wound down, I dreamed about living in a college dorm, where I could go to bed when I wanted, do laundry as often as I wanted, and have all the food I needed from a dining hall. I dreamed of a room without Olivia in it.
In March, I found out I was accepted to FIT, my dream school. I was thrilled. When applying for dorms, I asked for a single room, but the education specialist from my foster care agency explained that there were no singles. So I requested a dorm room with only one roommate.
In August, I was accepted into a dorm and was asked for my name and pronouns. I said “Rylynn, he/they.” Though I had come out as trans in high school, that was new information to them, and it turned out nobody in that dorm signed up for gender inclusive living arrangements. So I was moved to the coed dorm.
Creative Fire
Workers from my foster care agency dropped me and my belongings off at the dorm. After we said our goodbyes, I started unpacking. It was like a dream to be in my room, but part of me feared that I’d wake up and find myself back with Olivia in Diane’s house. If I made my half of the room look like mine, then maybe I wouldn’t feel that way anymore.
I set up my computer on my desk and spent hours decorating while my favorite episode of The Amazing Digital Circus played on loop. I switched the placement of the desk and the bed so my bed wasn’t in direct view of the door. Then I made my bed with the bed set Diane gave me a few months before; muted pink sheets and pillow cases with a giant white comforter. I made pink yarn into pom-poms and hung them up. I hung pink pictures of France, cars, and flowers, and I put pink bows on my desk and dresser drawers and walls.
There was an addicting creative fire inside me. I hadn’t felt this alive in a long time. It had been months since I had this much time with my own thoughts. I could fully and freely express myself. When I finished, I felt a deep sense of pride and accomplishment. Decorating my room how I liked it was the happiest I’d been in a long time.
I hoped my new roommate would be impressed with my decorating skills. I took pictures and videos of my room and sent them to my friends and shared them on my Instagram story.
I knew that my roommate was named “Tina” from the dorm assignment email. For the first few weeks of the semester, I wondered when Tina would show up; then I started telling my friends I didn’t have a roommate.
But one morning in late September, I got out of the shower and into my bathrobe, and my door opened. I looked over my shoulder and saw a pale girl with dark curly hair.
“Wait wait wait! Gimme a second! I’m so sorry!” I blurted and closed the door on her standing in the hall. Then I thought, Is she my roommate?
I got dressed and opened the door for Tina, who was with her father. “You can come in, sorry about that.”
It had been months since I had this much time with my own thoughts. I could fully and freely express myself.
“It’s fine,” Tina said.
I grabbed my jacket and headed for the door. “You can stay if you want,” Tina said anxiously.
“I was heading to the dining hall anyway,” I smiled. “You probably want some time to move in.”
As I walked to the dining hall, I wondered about Tina. Would she like me? Would I like her? Would she be inconsiderate like Olivia?
A Roommate I Like
When I got back from dinner, Tina was sitting on her bed, with her belongings tucked underneath it. We chatted easily and she told me her name was actually Valentina and that she also was from New York City.
“You have no idea how hard it is finding New Yorkers living in the FIT dorms,” I laughed. “So why’d you decide to dorm if you live close by?”
“I’m a fashion business management major, so I have to carry a lot of stuff to and from class all the time, and carrying all that on the subway would kill me.” Valentina gestured toward a large bag with papers, fabric, and giant rulers.
I told Valentina I was an advertising communications major, and why I chose it. We had a lot in common: New York, FIT, our hobbies, and even the shows we like. Olivia and I had never had a conversation this long!
I expected Valentina to be in the dorm more after she moved in, but more often than not she was in class, or at her parents’ house. While she was in the dorm, it was nice, she didn’t play loud music, or invite her friends inside without letting me know. I could turn down the lights and go to bed at 10 p.m.
I didn’t feel anxious around Valentina, and she didn’t think I was weird. We got along great and even made plans to go shopping together. I didn’t get the chance to talk about myself in depth, but she seemed like someone who could be a trusted friend.
Grateful for Solitude
But then she stopped coming back to the dorm. For a few days I assumed she was just at her parents’ house, but then I began to wonder. I didn’t contact her because it was my first time having a college roommate, and we had only just met. I didn’t want to seem nosy.
After two weeks, Valentina texted me: “There has been a family emergency so I had to withdraw completely from FIT. I will be moving out. I wanted to let you know in person but things have been hectic, so I haven’t had the chance to come to the dorm.”
I thanked her for telling me and wished her luck, and with that, I was back to having no roommate.
I liked Valentina a lot, but I like living alone so much more. I wake up every morning grateful for the solitude. I play my music as loud as I want, and when I want peace and quiet, I get peace and quiet.
I can dance, I can sing, I can think out loud. I don’t censor what I watch and listen to. Even with Valentina, I hid under the covers and wore headphones so she wouldn’t hear what I was watching and listening to.
My solitude gives me the freedom to discover myself. I study more, and I make more visual art. I write more fanfics, read more graphic novels, and relax more. While I could do these things with a roommate, they’re all so much easier and freer when I don’t have to worry about someone else’s judgment. I also can have friends over to my dorm room without letting anyone know beforehand. To my surprise, I also sleep more and take better care of my skin.
I spent so much energy on managing my emotional well-being while living with Olivia, Diane, and Michael and before that with my difficult family. And even with Valentina, I still felt somewhat anxious and reserved. But with a room of my own, I can explore my full potential without worrying about how I appear to someone else.
The Author
