Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Twenty-seven Foot Bubble

As do most people, I require a certain amount of personal space. I am a self-professed vast personal space needer. I can't be crowded or pushed or smothered. Those will only make me want to freak out and hurt people. I find myself having near physical reactions to emotional deluging that include flailing and spastic flinging. It's not good.

"They" say that politicians typically require 27 feet of personal space. I've oft said I should go into politics. I most definitely fall into this personal space realm. 27 feet. Yes, I can handle that. Now, please don't misunderstand. This requirement does not go for all people. If I like a person and consider them a friend, they are permitted into my personal space. Usually. However, there are those whom I would much prefer to keep their distance. Maybe even extend it out to 50 feet. Heck, just pick up the phone and call me! From another state! That will solve all the spacial issues.

Not only do I sometimes need physical personal space, but perhaps moreso, emotional space. As has been previously stated, I do not always do so well with intrusions into my life. 'Tis not always a favorable trait, however, until I learn how to not be so me, it is what it is.

Lately, I have found certain situations in my life taking no heed to the 27 feet of personal space that is mine. Areas of my life have been invaded by persons that I would much rather not be there. I have been finding my privacy being swamped and become nonexistent in particular areas. Unfortunately, these issues are such as that I cannot control nor change. I have so far been able to refrain from any spastic flailing or undocked freaking out, which may involve pencils and other people's eyeballs. I cannot guarantee how much longer I shall be able to subdue said freaking outedness. You may soon read about me in the news.

In circumstances such as this, when one cannot control or avoid an unpleasant state of affairs, one certainly finds oneself asking the question of "what is the lesson to be learned?" There is always some hidden nugget of truth to be found behind every hardship, with which one can come away armed with a new knowledge of oneself. These assignments are hardly ever fun and often result in the loss of hair. I fear I may be completely bald before this one is over. I am making every effort to keep an eye out for all the wonderful lessons I am supposed to be learning, however. That way my bald head will not be in vain.

In the meantime, I will continue to have venting sessions with my office mate, who regularly coaches me in Lamaze and removes sharp objects from my reach. Apparently, she likes me too much to see me go to jail.

And yes, in case you were wondering, she is allowed within 27 feet of me.


Becca Joy said...

i definitely know what you mean. i hate it when my space is invaded! i like bubbles, and i think the problem is that everyone else thinks it's so fun to pop them! jeeze.

Granddad said...

Where does dad fit in this space? Feel free to be humorous, but if the truth is going to hurt I'd rather be blissfuly ignorant.