Maybe I’m the only one who feels like this. Maybe I’m the one single human in the world who would react this way. Maybe I’m a freak exception to the rule, decidedly outside of average… but I don’t think so. I think, actually, that my reaction is pretty damn normal (and yes, I know there’s no such thing) — that my feelings are rather expected, that other reasonable people would respond in much the same way.
Her boy-toy mumbles, or talks, or sometimes even yells, while he walks around the house, or in and out of the house (slamming the door half of the time.) When I’m sitting in my room, and I have my curtains and window open to let some much-needed cooler air through, and I’ve turned on some music to let my mind focus, started singing so I can let out just a tiny part of this storm of emotion I keep bottling up inside… well, I find it really unsettling, put mildly, to suddenly see a face right outside my window, and then before my body can fully react to the “Oh fuck! What is this? Do I need to defend myself, or run away, or WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON???” feeling, the face is gone again — and there’s a voice unseen, arguing with itself.
Am I the only one who doesn’t think that’s cute, or endearing, or refreshing, or delightful and charming? Am I bizarre to feel threatened by that behavior? Am I wrong to call it “creepy” or compare one person walking around and talking out loud in angry tones to nobody, to others displaying the same observable actions — namely, the often homeless “crazy people,” the ones outcast and avoided because those behaviors are not socially acceptable, and make most others uneasy?
I had hoped to let myself breathe today, to relax and let free some of the emotional weight and tension inside. The moment I began to do so, I was startled and interrupted by the sudden flash of a face in the window, and moments later a momentary glimpse of someone there and gone again in the hall. I’m more tense than when I awoke, I’m angry and frustrated and feeling trapped… and I have to either psych myself up for preparing to go out now, moving through the house and past the boy-toy and trying to keep the disquiet inside to a low roar instead of a banshee howl on a stormy night — or take the route I do more often: stay locked inside my room, stay in this self-imposed prison until the threat abates, until he’s gone, and I feel as safe outside as I do here (and neither of them feels particularly safe.)
This is no way to live. When the emotional hazards from the people in my own home and the guests they invite are so great that I cannot face them directly, and my only other option is to remain self-exiled and intentionally isolate myself, knowing that what I need most is emotional and physical closeness… I’m trapped in an incredibly unhealthy place. If my choice is between emotionally and psychologically harming myself or putting myself in situations where I’ll be emotionally or psychologically harmed by others — intentionally or not — then it doesn’t ever feel like much of a choice. I usually choose self-harm because in that one small measure I retain my own agency, I feel the victory of keeping my autonomy and control of self… but each one feels, as King Phyrrus would understand, that another such victory would utterly undo me.
I have to stop writing now, get myself dressed, prepared, and out the fucking door. Now. It’s just too overwhelming here…