The quieter it is in my house, the harder it is for me to leave it. Right now I need to go grocery shopping, but the dogs are all sleeping. How can I bear to leave this peacefulness and head out into the busy marketplace?
Sometimes I think I have a case of agoraphobia-lite. It's similar to real agoraphobia, except that the fear is removed, the anxiety reduced by half, and a fair amount of self-indulgence and antisocial tendencies are added to the equation. I suppose that makes it exactly like garden-variety introversion. I don't panic at the idea of going out among crowds; I just generally prefer not to do so. There are certain things so good they would overcome my reluctance to leave home--a must-see movie based on a favorite book, a James Taylor concert in an intimate setting, a figure-skating exhibition--but shopping isn't one of them.
I have never and can't imagine that I will ever insert myself into the "fun" of Black Friday shopping; no bargain is that good. And you would be surprised at what I'll eat for dinner if it means I can postpone grocery shopping one more day. Today, when there are actually two viable dinner choices in the freezer, staying home is a no-brainer.
Grocery shopping is hardly the worst thing, of course. Yeah, it requires bathing, dressing, doing hair and applying minimal makeup, but at least it doesn't involve a lot of talking to people. Parties are much more difficult unless I know all the people there and they all know me well enough not to be offended when I leave early. Family parties, in fact, are wonderfully comfortable. I look forward to them.
On the other hand, the pressure at parties full of strangers is almost insurmountable. I skipped a toddler's birthday party two years in a row, intending to show up both times, then bailing at the last minute. I rationalized that the toddler, whom I love dearly, would be too excited about her gifts to notice whether or not I was there and that her immediate family members (who are also mine) would be too busy for me to hang onto their coattails while pretending to be invisible to the other guests. Lingering guilt is the price I pay for skipping the parties.
So here I am today, home alone with four sleeping dogs, happy as a pig in you-know-what, even if I know it means I must get an early start tomorrow or suffer the consequences of an empty pantry. The good news is, if I make a good shopping list and do a thorough job tomorrow, I won't have to go again for a week.
Sometimes I think I have a case of agoraphobia-lite. It's similar to real agoraphobia, except that the fear is removed, the anxiety reduced by half, and a fair amount of self-indulgence and antisocial tendencies are added to the equation. I suppose that makes it exactly like garden-variety introversion. I don't panic at the idea of going out among crowds; I just generally prefer not to do so. There are certain things so good they would overcome my reluctance to leave home--a must-see movie based on a favorite book, a James Taylor concert in an intimate setting, a figure-skating exhibition--but shopping isn't one of them.
I have never and can't imagine that I will ever insert myself into the "fun" of Black Friday shopping; no bargain is that good. And you would be surprised at what I'll eat for dinner if it means I can postpone grocery shopping one more day. Today, when there are actually two viable dinner choices in the freezer, staying home is a no-brainer.
Grocery shopping is hardly the worst thing, of course. Yeah, it requires bathing, dressing, doing hair and applying minimal makeup, but at least it doesn't involve a lot of talking to people. Parties are much more difficult unless I know all the people there and they all know me well enough not to be offended when I leave early. Family parties, in fact, are wonderfully comfortable. I look forward to them.
On the other hand, the pressure at parties full of strangers is almost insurmountable. I skipped a toddler's birthday party two years in a row, intending to show up both times, then bailing at the last minute. I rationalized that the toddler, whom I love dearly, would be too excited about her gifts to notice whether or not I was there and that her immediate family members (who are also mine) would be too busy for me to hang onto their coattails while pretending to be invisible to the other guests. Lingering guilt is the price I pay for skipping the parties.
So here I am today, home alone with four sleeping dogs, happy as a pig in you-know-what, even if I know it means I must get an early start tomorrow or suffer the consequences of an empty pantry. The good news is, if I make a good shopping list and do a thorough job tomorrow, I won't have to go again for a week.
Me too, Linda! I am really not agoraphobic but I love to be home with just me, my husband, and the 4 cats. I worked for many years and it still brings a smile to my face when I wake up in the morning and think "I'm now retired, I don't have to go anywhere!" Our Black Friday shopping was 3 loads of mulch from the dirt yard!
ReplyDeleteFlorence, I'm guessing you didn't have to stand in a long line to buy dirt. Good Black Friday strategy, I'd say.
ReplyDeleteFor a fleeting second I wondered whether or not it's possible to buy dirt online, quickly followed by the thought that no one would ever have to buy it if there was a way to gather up some of the dirt that's dished on Facebook every day. Too bad there isn't an app for that.
I've always believed I could easily become a hermit, as I share many of your characteristics. It's not that I don't want to see people, I just want them all to come to me so I can stay home. Is that too much to ask? I've even started buying nonperishable grocery items from Amazon. My essential oil business has been keeping me out the door more lately, so I guess that's good for me. I'll just have to be a hermit later.
ReplyDeleteSorry, but I can't imagine that you'll ever be a hermit. Your personality is so much fun that people are drawn to you; I think they'll find you at home or elsewhere. Nope, if you want to become a hermit, you're going to have to board up the windows and build a moat around your house.
DeleteI look for excuses to stay home and love the solitude. As the years advance, these feelings are multiplied. I go to the grocery store only very early so I won't have to interact with people. I love shopping on line. If I have to go do anything, I may be up half the night not really worrying just hating having to go! I am not going to change because I like being a hermit too much! giggle
ReplyDeleteOne of the things I enjoy about friends I meet online is that I can read what they've written, mull it over for a while to see if a response comes to mind, and laugh, cry or compare notes with them in a short, stop-and-start exchange of thoughts and information. It's a slow, easy process that builds friendships without the hassle of small talk.
DeleteI don't go out unless I have to, either. I like staying at home with my books, computer and television. I have friends who simply don't understand, and one in particular keeps nagging at me to get out, which just makes me dig my heels in harder. I can't seem to shut her up, but, she's always been a bully. lol My kids understand that I don't have a phobia - just don't like to get out. It's nice there are more of us hermits out there than I realized.
ReplyDeleteI must admit that seeing such cool women come here and self-identify as hermits makes me feel good about being one of their number. (I almost wrote "feel good about being part of that group," but then I realized that a group of hermits would be oxymoronic.
Delete