I like my peace and quiet. In fact, that’s the one thing I’m truly possessive of. But when you live in a busy household the only way to enjoy your peace and quiet is to pretend like there’s no noise in the background. I love living here, and I enjoy every second of it, I am forever thankful for it. Today though, the doorbell rang a hundred times. When this week got busy I was really contemplating how the weekend would go. More things got added to the to-do list by the time the weekend actually came around.
My work-out today involved getting up from the couch about twenty times to open and close the door. Pausing my serial, getting to the door, or picking up the phone and lying back down then getting up again. It was a full body work-out. I really thought I’d come home today and just lay for a bit, you know, just for a tiny bit. But I guess destiny had other plans. I don’t mind being disturbed but not when I am thinking and that automatically means always. My mother though has done way more today than I have. But for some reason, she’s a freight train and I am a mule. I guess genes get warped as they get passed on.
I always anticipate way more than what actually ends up happening. I pre-planned most of my life and I learnt the hard way that plans and people change. Now when I am going with the flow it means it’s chaos. I don’t have a handle on things. As much as I like to think I’m on top of things, life becomes more like a game of whack-a-mole. It’s frustrating, but I don’t really have a choice. I am both happy and sad that this week is coming to a close. I am happy because I felt buoyant this week and I am sad because there was so much more I wanted to do. I wanted to do it but I was too lazy.
They were not important tasks, just things I could have done. I guess it’s ok because I’ll tell myself I’ll do them next week and then the next and then the next. My determination to do things is remarkable. I think I’m alive because of the serials I watch. It feels like I am able to keep in touch with civilisation through the television. When I realise this I reassess my life, and why exactly am I such a hermit. The only time I like people is when they’re on camera or in books. If I have to interact with them, I feel suddenly burdened.
I’ll tell you why this post is important, it’s because the doorbell makes me nervous. Both ringing it and someone else ringing it. When you ring the doorbell it’s an announcement that you have arrived. When I sit inside and I hear it I go into a frenzy, am I presentable? Who is it? Will we have a conversation? What if it’s a robber? What if it’s a visitor? Do I have to answer it? If I don’t answer will they leave?
I know I sound anti-social but there are no two ways about it. Even if it’s a delivery man I can hear my heart beating in my ears. I just hate opening the door, stranger or not. I always hope that someone else will answer, it’s the same with the phone. I prefer texting. Calls make me nervous especially from people I don’t know. So today when I had to repeatedly open the door it was like putting my mind and heart through the continuous turmoil. Now my ears perk up at timed intervals like a scared animal hearing for the doorbell. When I hear a car on the street, I jump. I wish this was a joke.
My people skills are close to nil and that’s why the whole process of opening the door is so excruciating. I guess when you live somewhere, there are going to be people at the door, and it’s just part of life. I’m still working on it but man it’s going to take me time. It’s very rare when I voluntarily call somebody and talk to them. They have to mean the world to me for me to do that. Even with my parents, I have taught my mother how to use WhatsApp so she can text me instead of calling me. My mother still calls because she’s my mother and ultimately what she says goes. But I am trying to make a point.
I guess there are some parts of my personality that require a facelift. I need to stop a lot of things and start a lot of things, but the thing is these are parts of my character I have held very close to me. My anti-social behaviour got me through some of the hardest parts of my life. You can’t just give it up, and sometimes I feel like I need to hold on to it because the world is not an easy place to navigate. Things sometimes only feel ok inside your cardboard box with peepholes. I guess what I am scared of when I open the door is that I might let someone in who’ll hurt me again. That terrifies me, and I won’t apologise for it. In a metaphoric sense, this door will only open for those who can cherish the demons that stay inside. Until then, try your luck and keep ringing, I’ll answer when I’m ready….no, actually, I’ll answer when you are.