The Newly Single Woman's Guide to Independent Living

Somewhere around 3 in the morning, my eyes flew open yet again. I lay staring at my ceiling, wondering what threatening noise had awoken me this time. Was someone prowling around the house? Had a wandering spirit finally decided it was time to show the skeptic in me that ghosts really did exist?

After a bit of investigation, I discovered the culprit. There were no prowlers or banshees. The cat had just decided that 3 am was a good time to use the automatic litter box.

With a sigh, I gave myself a mental kick and climbed back into bed, wondering when I had become a woman who could be frightened out of a sound sleep by cat poop. I had always been the type of person who could sleep through anything, including an earthquake or an alarm clock. Waking up with a start at every little noise was just one more inconvenience in my new life.

My husband and I made the painful decision to divorce shortly after my 35^th birthday. Among the many other changes this decision brought to our lives, I found myself living alone for the first time ever. I'd gone from my parent's home to an apartment full of college roomies to living with my husband. I had never bothered to consider how I'd feel about living alone, and suddenly I found myself just doing it.

The fact that it scared the heck out of me made me feel like an idiot. I was 35, after all. I was a successful career woman. I had owned my own home for 10 years. Suddenly, I was acting like a kid who had moved out of her parent's home for the first time.

You can do it, I told myself. You have no choice. So I did, and here's what I learned along the way:

1. I'm Not a Freak. Okay, I Might be a Freak, But Not Because I Hate Living Alone

Many of my friends had been single forever. They'd grown to love coming home to their quiet domains after a long day at work. I was used to walking through the door and having someone to complain to about my day. Never mind that all that complaining might have lead to my divorce.

When I admitted that I'd taken to talking to my computer, my washing machine and other assorted appliances, they looked at me like I'd gone insane.

"Talk to your cat instead," one advised. "At least he can hear you."