Yes, you
You and I have the same withdrawal tendencies, although we handle them completely differently. Whenever something unpleasant or uncomfortable happens, ...we hide. Or, at the very least, we have the desire to hide.When I was a young child, I imagined a fortress in my bed. Under the covers was a cozy labyrinth of chambers, designed for security and practicality. A little older, I imagined a small family that lived in the shapes of our linoleum floor. For security, I escaped to their world, or used their advice to navigate my own.
When I was a little older, I designed my future homes on graph paper with rulers and protractors, ...trying to envision every circumstance, every possible future need, so that I would never have to leave. Inevitably, I used water as a gate (to buttress an envisioned "real" gate). I would build this complex on an island or next to a river.
Recently, I acted out these plans as if my life was a blank sheet of paper, and moved to San Diego where I knew no one and lived alone for two years. During this time of intense isolation, I finally was able to see that I had often withdrawn from the world, relationships, and situations.
I also realized that I should not try to suppress this "flight" instinct, but that I should acknowledge it and use it when needed. I can use it to my advantage, like an eastern herbal remedy, using a little each day to prevent a total outbreak. Today I retreat routinely to my room, my patterns, and my lists. All this to clean the mind, ...a human performance of a script to clean my database of bad data:
SQL> drop user x212 cascade;
commit
You are a little different, but I think it is the same desire to not want to be involved with stupidly complicated things. At some point anger and pity fall away and you just want to leave the world where these people and their ceaseless vanity, selfishness, and grief seem to rule unquestioned.
Get a dog. It helps.
Or move to San Diego.
And take me with you.
<< Home