Living Alone and Food Waste: Where I’ve Landed (For Now)
There’s no perfect system I’ve landed on. No single habit that fixed everything. No moment where food waste suddenly stopped being an issue altogether.
This post is part of a short series about food waste when you live alone.
- Post 1: “This is where it started”
- Post 2: “This is what I tried”
- Post 3: “This is where I landed”
After writing about food waste and living alone, I realised something important: I don’t actually have a neat conclusion.
I wrote earlier about why food waste was harder to fix than I expected when living alone
There’s no perfect system I’ve landed on. No single habit that fixed everything. No moment where food waste suddenly stopped being an issue altogether.
What I do have is a clearer understanding of why food waste felt so hard in the first place — and a much more realistic sense of what “better” looks like for me.
This post isn’t about new tips or techniques. It’s about where I’ve landed for now, after trying things, abandoning others, and accepting that living alone changes the equation more than I expected.
Living Alone Changes the Rules (Whether We Like It or Not)
One of the biggest shifts for me has been accepting that food waste when you live alone isn’t just a personal failing.
So much advice assumes:
- you’re cooking for multiple people
- food gets shared
- leftovers don’t hang around for long
- ingredients get used up quickly
When you live alone, none of that is guaranteed.
Every mistake — forgotten leftovers, food you didn’t fancy eating again, ingredients you bought with good intentions — lands entirely on you. There’s no one else to help finish things off or rescue meals you’re bored of.
Once I stopped pretending my situation was the same as everyone else’s, things started to make more sense.
What Trying Lots of Things Actually Taught Me
Across the last couple of posts, I’ve written about everything I tried to reduce food waste: composting, freezing, buying loose, farm shops, refill stores, meal planning, and meal prep.
What surprised me wasn’t that some things didn’t work — it was why they didn’t.
Most of the approaches that fell short did so because they:
- relied on me being consistently organised
- assumed stable routines
- expected my energy levels to stay the same
- or ignored cost and accessibility
None of that makes those ideas bad. It just makes them fragile when applied to real life.
What helped me most was noticing which approaches reduced waste without requiring constant effort.
Accepting Trade-Offs Without Beating Myself Up
One of the hardest mental shifts for me was accepting trade-offs.
I spent a long time looking for solutions that felt:
- affordable
- low waste
- convenient
- flexible
- and morally “correct”
Very few things tick all those boxes at once.
Eventually, I had to accept that reducing waste in my life meant choosing lower waste options, not perfect ones. Sometimes that meant accepting packaging in exchange for eating all the food I bought. Sometimes it meant prioritising cost or mental bandwidth over ideals.
That wasn’t giving up. It was being honest.
What “Working” Actually Means to Me Now
I used to think a solution only counted if it:
- eliminated waste completely
- worked forever
- applied in all situations
Now, my definition is much simpler.
Something works if:
- it reduces food waste overall
- it fits my life right now
- I don’t dread sticking with it
By that definition, some things worked for a season and then stopped. Others still work now. Some might work again later.
And that’s okay.
Why I’ve Stopped Chasing the “Best” Answer
At some point, I realised that constantly searching for the best way to reduce food waste was part of the problem.
It kept me:
- second-guessing my choices
- feeling like I hadn’t done enough
- switching approaches too quickly
- ignoring what was already helping
Letting go of the idea that there’s a single right answer made everything feel calmer. Instead of optimising endlessly, I focused on what reduced waste enough to be meaningful.
Where I’ve Actually Landed (For Now)
Right now, my approach to food waste looks like this:
- I compost what I can
- I don’t expect myself to cook from scratch every day
- I accept that buying for one is inefficient in a system built for families
- I use meal prep because it genuinely reduces waste for me
- I don’t aim for zero — I aim for less
This isn’t a system I’d recommend universally. It’s just the one that fits my life at the moment.
And importantly, it’s allowed to change.
What This Mini-Series Has Changed for Me
Writing these posts has forced me to be more honest than I might have been otherwise.
It’s easy to talk about food waste in abstract terms. It’s harder to admit that:
- living alone makes things more complicated
- some “good” options aren’t affordable
- some low-waste ideals don’t hold up under everyday pressure
Naming those things has made me more forgiving — both of myself and of others.
If You’re Living Alone and Still Struggling
If you’ve read this mini-series and thought, “I’m still finding this hard”, I want to be clear about something:
That doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong.
Food waste when you live alone is shaped by:
- how food is sold
- how work and energy fluctuate
- how much time and money you have
- how realistic systems are for you
You’re not failing if you haven’t found a perfect system. Most people haven’t.
An Invitation (Not a Challenge)
This is very much where I pause rather than conclude.
I’m sure there are approaches I haven’t tried yet. I’m also sure there are things other people living alone have figured out that simply haven’t worked for me.
If you live alone and you’ve found something that genuinely helped reduce your food waste — especially something that worked long-term — I’d honestly love to hear about it.
Not because I’m looking for a miracle fix.
Just because learning from each other feels more useful than pretending we’ve got it sorted.
A Final Thought
Living alone taught me that food waste isn’t just about habits — it’s about fit.
When solutions fit your life, they stick.
When they don’t, no amount of willpower makes them work.
Right now, I’m wasting less food than I used to. Not zero. Not perfectly. But enough to feel like I’m moving in the right direction.
And for now, that’s where I’ve landed.