I have two siblings, one 5 years older, the other 10 years older...
I might as WELL have been an only child...
One of the ways it comes out is my *need* for privacy. Closed doors between me and other people, to focus, to concentrate, to make messes only I have to deal with.
I did not learn to focus in a house full of siblings whooping and snooping, I had alone time... and lots of it.
Reading in bed quietly, playing with dolls by myself... at my house only one friend would come over at a time, unless it was a once or twice a year party. I'd visit friend's houses, it was fun and easy to hang with their family, but I could go HOME to work where it was quiet.
It might be hard to notice, I'm an extrovert, but for focus, I need to be alone.
Doors closed against Others.
My messes are MINE. Do not intrude, do not ask questions until I am DONE
I half-snarl while trying to hide my embarrassment at snarling AND being embarrassed at working AND snarling AND being embarrassed.
HA!
I hate exposing undone things... No, don't look at what I'm MAKING... you can only see what I've MADE.
[HIDEY HOLE] Sailor says I like being "mysterious". A grand reveal of the thing I never told you I was doing ALL ALONG! But it's not secrets,... I like... I'm AWFUL at secrets (well MY secrets at least!) it's the ugliness of unfinished. It's the mess of cleaning. The hazard of making anew.
The way to sell sausage is to hide how it's made.
Don't put the meat grinder out on the front counter, feeding it haunches across the counter while casually asking, "Want some??"
No.
Non-starter.
I need room.... to be my own mess AND to hide that mess so as not to confuse, or abuse you with it.
I am protective of my mess, I splatter paint... and that paint needs protected from me and you need protected from the paint but I do not need protected so I stay there, wet and dripping covered in my own mess... and growl for you to go away, "NOTHING TO SEE HERE!" and really... there plenty to see, just not for YOU to see. Your appetite will shrink when you see how I make the things I make.
Beliefs. Opinions. Items. Art. Space. Comfort. When I am dreaming, I will talk of it. I will show you the general shape.
If I am actively making it, YOU ARE NOT INVITED until it's done. Be it my resume, or a necklace I want to do it ALONE. The mental silence, is a part of my process.
It's not all self-protection, it's not all hackles out of fear or embarrassment... (although there is that)
There IS another side... my EXTROVERSION. That big part of me that cannot ignore other people.
If people are around, I will talk, I will interact, I will exchange, and my focus will be on them. Will be WITH them.
That is the other side of my closed door. My privacy allows me privilege to put my mind where I want it to go.
Break it, with questions or concern in the middle of the process... I am THERE... I am WITH YOU... manglged amongst my mess and unable to do anything about it until you leave closing the door on your way out and also leaving me MENTALLY. Don't even THINK of me, I will feel you. You need to be SOMEWHERE ELSE so I can go SOMEWHERE ELSE.
But when I am focusing, and the unexpected arrives, I just might be Shattered...
I was focusing... I could see the path out.. or I was working on it. My human will cleaves to human will and all former private paths fall away, forgotten. Lost halfway through a song, I had JUST been singing. How to find that thread I was chasing, before some pleasant human rained down on me, pulling my mind from its hard-won vantage point.
Crumbling the moment of now I was having with myself and now it all seems abstract, I can't see the tightrope anymore, lost in the change of vantage point... when before I saw next perfect step, clearly, felt it, totally.
Focus can be regained, but it was not maintained... and inside I grind a feeling for at least a moment... going... "What the hell, yo??"