NOT the 30-day meme
I understand myself pretty well most of the time. Years of introspection will do that to you.
But I have one aspect that I just don't get, and that is my intense need for physical privacy. Not emotional privacy -- I'm pretty open about most things.
I like to have MY space that is MY space and NO ONE ELSE'S... but not just that, I don't want anyone else EVER in my space. EVER EVER EVER.
Even people I dearly love and trust. For example, it even bothers me when Ann has to go through my closet or my dresser. It's worse if she has to go through my bag or my papers. And there's nothing there to hide! But when it happens, I feel invaded and humiliated, which is TOTALLY NOT HER FAULT. I'm talking about being embarrassed by this EVEN IF I HAVE ASKED HER TO DO IT.
I think some of it may have to do with knowing that I'm not particularly organized, and I'm always worried that I will be heavily criticized for having, say, an old letter in my sock drawer, or a book I thought I was missing stashed under my shoes. This is not a logical worry; Ann may point out to me that it doesn't make sense, but it's not like she's mean and evil about it. There is no reason to worry. But I do.
Frankly, I don't even like having my friends over to my house most of the time. (There are a very few exceptions, and those people are welcome at all times... but then again, they don't snoop in my stuff.) When people are at my house, I automatically feel invaded and judged and found wanting, whether or not there is any justifiable reason to feel that way.
So this Sunday, I am HOSTING a live fantasy football draft in my living room. Already I'm uneasy. There should be eleven people there including Ann (who is helping to host but is not in this league), maybe fewer if some can't make it. I am responsible for running this thing. These are friendly people. These are people I like, getting together for a fun purpose.
I'm not worried that they're going to tell me I'm running the draft "wrong," and I'm not worried that they're going to complain that I live so far away. But every time I think about it, I have to take a deep breath and remind myself that they're not INVADING, they're INVITED.
They're invited.
To my house.
Dear God, why am I doing this???
But I have one aspect that I just don't get, and that is my intense need for physical privacy. Not emotional privacy -- I'm pretty open about most things.
I like to have MY space that is MY space and NO ONE ELSE'S... but not just that, I don't want anyone else EVER in my space. EVER EVER EVER.
Even people I dearly love and trust. For example, it even bothers me when Ann has to go through my closet or my dresser. It's worse if she has to go through my bag or my papers. And there's nothing there to hide! But when it happens, I feel invaded and humiliated, which is TOTALLY NOT HER FAULT. I'm talking about being embarrassed by this EVEN IF I HAVE ASKED HER TO DO IT.
I think some of it may have to do with knowing that I'm not particularly organized, and I'm always worried that I will be heavily criticized for having, say, an old letter in my sock drawer, or a book I thought I was missing stashed under my shoes. This is not a logical worry; Ann may point out to me that it doesn't make sense, but it's not like she's mean and evil about it. There is no reason to worry. But I do.
Frankly, I don't even like having my friends over to my house most of the time. (There are a very few exceptions, and those people are welcome at all times... but then again, they don't snoop in my stuff.) When people are at my house, I automatically feel invaded and judged and found wanting, whether or not there is any justifiable reason to feel that way.
So this Sunday, I am HOSTING a live fantasy football draft in my living room. Already I'm uneasy. There should be eleven people there including Ann (who is helping to host but is not in this league), maybe fewer if some can't make it. I am responsible for running this thing. These are friendly people. These are people I like, getting together for a fun purpose.
I'm not worried that they're going to tell me I'm running the draft "wrong," and I'm not worried that they're going to complain that I live so far away. But every time I think about it, I have to take a deep breath and remind myself that they're not INVADING, they're INVITED.
They're invited.
To my house.
Dear God, why am I doing this???