I have
always loved small spaces, like John from Ally Macbeal, I need a hole
where I can crawl in to get away from the rest of the world.
When
my little cousins came to live with us, I looked for a bed sheet and
draped it across the room to separate-MY side from HER side. In high
school; my aunt, her child and nanny moved into the same bedroom. To
me, I had been kicked out, there was no room for me.
Uncle
cleaned out a store room and said we might use it as an extra room. I
found a mattress and relocated right away, but he said the room could
fit two beds. I put a padlock at the door.
Mean,
right?
And
selfish too
But I
can explain.
I
need space and not in the true sense of the word. I could be in a big
room with only one other person but it still feels crowded,
especially if the other person loves the sound of his voice.
When
there is two of us in a room, this is how the space is shared out.
And I
cannot write, think or pray when other people or other person is too
close.
I will
Either
have to leave the room
Start
talking non-stop
Walk
about doing nothing in particular, just collecting lint from the
atmosphere
Or sit
cross legged and read a single page for two hours
The
discomfiture of seeing boundary lines puts me right in a tense mood
But I
realise I might be claustrophobic and this can happen anywhere.
A few
years back I was living near a bunch of people who needed people
about them for them to think. They would be very offended that I
turned down yet another cook- out that week.
We
later became inseparable but there was always the question they could
not get round, ‘why did I like to be so lonely?’ and made efforts
to have my house warmed by guests at every opportunity, and I
resented it and became quite cold towards them.
Many
times I could have burrowed into the floor for privacy.
I had
to be on all the time.
On
deeper thought, it might be genetic. My mother is happy in her own
company. While uncle spend, 95% of his waking hours , I mean 97%.
He
spends it inside the napier grass plantation and only comes out when
the moorland is clear.
Granny,
on the other hand loved crowds before ALZ hit. She was a public
speaker and a good percentage of the families take after her. There
might be a psychological explanation to this.
I’ll
know some day
Meanwhile,
I try to go against this by inviting people to hang out with me
against my inner will.
I get
soaking with people-talk and have little time to think. How did I do?
How did it go. One of my mother’s sisters understood me and kept me
supplied with newspapers, magazines and reader’s digests and told
people to leave me alone. But she died.
So
really, these are my first steps at human interaction. I’ll get
there.
(ONLY one sketch belongs to me. the rest are borrowed thank you very much)
(ONLY one sketch belongs to me. the rest are borrowed thank you very much)