…realizing I have problems.
I am one of those people that REALLY enjoy living alone. I don’t have to share the bed. I can keep the thermostat wherever I want it. I know where everything is because I put it there. I am free to do whatever I want there, in whatever degree of naked I desire.
In short, I like my house in order as I see fit. But this could pose a serious problem for my future romantic life.
I didn’t realize this until a couple days ago, when my mom came to stay with me.
My mom has been at my place, for reasons I won’t get into, for a few days. Now the 1st thing you should understand about this is that my mama and I SHOULD NOT LIVE TOGETHER. We keep 2 different kinds of homes; we are both clean, probably to anal levels, but where she likes lights and music and TVs on all at the same time, my home is usually significantly quieter. She isn’t big on silence; I crave it at the end of the day. She likes to yell across the house; I can’t think of anything more irritating. I like everything uncluttered, clear, put in a particular place in a particular way; she thinks I am crazy. It all balances out.
There is nothing WRONG with either of us. We are simply two different people who respond in different ways to differences in our personal space.
But more than likely, because my mom has lived with people before and I haven’t, she’s got a MUCH better handle on sharing her space than I do.
It started last night in my bathroom.
I walked in to do my usual evening routine before bed, looked at my counter and noticed immediately something was out of place. After a second I realized my little toothbrush/retainer case/jar of baking soda combo was different. Not a big deal. Then I looked at the entire counter as a whole; the clutter across the top of it, the ill placed boxes and bottles, the errant strands of hair dotting the surface, the products that had been moved or turned. I recognized that this was just a part of having to share space with someone, so I righted things as best I could so that I could still find them, and tried to incorporate her things as best I could in a way that wouldn’t make me crazed.
Ten minutes later I was FINALLY washing my face.
Afterwards, walking through the apartment, I could take note of all the things out of place; the power cord left in the corner beside the bed, the clutter on my desk, the suitcase left standing in the middle of the floor. Hell, not much earlier I had ACTUALLY turned to my mother who was coming out of the kitchen and said, “That light wasn’t on in the kitchen when you went in there.”
What adult says this aloud to another adult? OMG!!! I am the parent! This can’t be life.
I immediately started to think about what this would mean for my dating life. How on earth could I ever cohabitate with someone? Would I be one of those nagging live in girlfriends who took note of every pile of clothes with resentment? Or who was constantly arranging and rearranging and picking up behind someone? Would all my little quirks and things make me impossible to live with? Let’s not even discuss my anxiety at the fact that I can’t really sleep with other people. OF COURSE I’d be a ridiculous and anal live in; I’d be sleep deprived and irritated ALL. THE. TIME.
I am sure there are some underlying issues that give life to my need for tidiness and order and such. But I don’t care anything about that right now. I just want to NOT be so absurd. Immediately. lol
Lordy. I need to get it together.
5 thoughts on “This Part of my Life is Called…”
You know, when I was little I always wondered why my grandma and grandpa had separate rooms. It just seemed weird to me. But when I got older and realized just how particular I was about MY space, I totally knew I'd have the same setup down the line. I mean, is it really selfish to not want your things out of place or to enjoy silence in your own house? And how exactly do you get over that?
But my grandparents have been married for 50 years, they each have their own space. Even separate bathrooms. One tends to clutter, one is a neat freak. Their bedrooms are exact opposites of each other, but I will say my grandma has always had a nightgown hanging on my grandpa's door. Hmph. LOL
LOVE your blog btw.
I'm seven months in and still getting the hang of it – I think it's because I lived alone for a nice chunk of time before this… I was set in my ways.
I'm lucky becauase CTH is generally very neat, but there are things that drive me nuts. For instance, that big ass 46 inch tv that I am still paying for? I hate when he takes over the remotes. Or when he suggest how I should sleep in the bed my daddy gave me for his optimal sleeping pleasure.
But how do you say, no, only I can control the tv, or the bed is mine!!! when someone moved across the country to be with you?
Thank you both for not making me feel (even more) crazy, lol
Ugh. Jess. THIS:
“Thus, we are ruled by not our strengths, but by our weaknesses.”
This is just so… yes.
@A. Smith- I feel the same way. I enjoy coming home to the dog and to peace and quiet, not having to cater to anyone but me. And don't EVEN get me started on trying to share a bed with someone. Lawd. Ima be one of those women who has to sleep in a separate room. lol
I'm not sure if I can live with someone else either. I am NOT a space sharer. I'm just not. WITHOUT FAIL, whenever I have someone in my apt more than about 2 days, I'm ready to choke them. It's terrible and I feel so bad about it.
Not too long ago, I had some friends staying with me for a weekend. I looked forward to their coming for WEEKS. One night, they had gone to a club, I had gone to…uhh… see a man about a horse… anyway, when I came back I expected them to still be clubbin and when I opened the door and saw them not only there, BUT IN THEIR BED CLOTHES I freaked. First thing I said, “what are y'all doing here?” I immediately felt so bad, because one of 'em looked so hurt, but DAMMIT I enjoy coming home to nobody.
On top of this, I don't even like being in others' spaces for too long. Like when I go out with friends and they're all “gon' and get lit, you can sleep on my couch…” I quickly respond, “no thanks. I'd like to make it back to my OWN house…”
I'm feeling your pain. I really am. I need to do something about this if I'm serious about that whole marriage thing…
OOooooh control control control–tough to let it go huh? Part of me says who cares, this is the time in life when you actually GET to be selfish. The other part of me says, you gotta let go a bit, really what is it hurting? Sure we all like things how we like them, but stressing over the small stuff is going to lead to unnecessary anxiety and that is not the business.
I have this theory: that which we view as weak (which it sounds like being out of control fits that desc) is our biggest fear. We act in spite of it (wanting to then control everything) and that is why that which we seek to control, controls us (catch 22 to be controlled by control). Thus, we are ruled by not our strengths, but by our weaknesses. To defeat this, one must make not an enemy of weakness but embrace it. Only through yielding can one conquer. Sometimes you just gotta say fuck it.