So, I’m sitting here felting away like a good little crafter-attempter, and suddenly I realize I haven’t written a blog post yet today. And now I’m hugely distracted yet again by a puppy dog who wants to play, and at least one kitty who ways to chill in my lap…it the way of my trying to write, naturally. And my ever-behind PVR-watching, of course!
I think this one will be shorter than most, and that’s okay. At least I’m writing, and I can always revisit it all in more depth another time.
I went for brunch today. I think it’s probably my favourite meal ever. I have a Brunch of Awesome that I make sometimes…usually on a long weekend like this. I’m not doing it this weekend because a) I knew I was going out today, and b) I’m broke so my breakfast-y meals this weekend consist of toast with brown sugar and cinnamon spread, or blueberry waffles and 100% pure maple syrup. And blueberries. Because delicious.
Anyway, I was super late for brunch…again. I think I’m late for everything but work (most of the time). Even appointments with doctors and such. If not late, then cut close. And I hate it, always being late. Like, just assume I won’t be on time. It’s pathetic but true. I am always late.
What I think I hate more than being late, though, is leaving my apartment. It’s a constant daily struggle. I don’t know how to describe it, really. Part of it is all the preparation involved; trying to remember everything and make sure I’ve got everything. My brain and I take it to extremes, though, because I try to plan for every possibility. It’s…insane, really. You should see all the stuff in my ever-present backpack. It’s like either I don’t know how to carry only what I’ll need, or I’m too afraid to risk needing something that I left at home.
Or what if something happens at home while I’m out, and I lose something I end up wishing I’d taken with me, instead.
Though there is also the risk of having something with me and losing THAT while I’m out.
I mean, that’s a lot of stress. Every time I try to leave my safe haven. It takes a long time.
I think the only reason I can do it for work is because I’ve been doing it for over 15 years. It’s a routine. A habit. I can do it with my eyes closed, kinda. More or less. I try to do everything the same each morning, all in the same order. It’s crazy, but it helps me remember. More than that, though, it contributes to my sense of safety and control. It’s all connected.
Even taking Brody out is a thing. I had to set myself up a routine surrounding that, too. I even had mini anxiety attacks sometimes when we were out, and kept trying to go when there would be fewer people out. That didn’t last long and I am more adept at navigating doggie culture than I was, but I think that’s all largely due to Brody himself. He’s very chill, and some of that has rubbed off. He teaches me patience, and to slow down, and to acknowledge people in front of me instead of just walking by. I don’t wear headphones when I’m with him because I’m with him, and want to be in the moment, experience the world around us. Enjoy our time together.
Plus, I get to pet WAY more doggies than I ever could when I didn’t have a dog with me! Way less stalker weirdo now. In appearance, at least.
If I could afford to work from home and just go out to walk Brody, I think I’d end up being a shut-in. Not because I’m agoraphobic. I don’t think. I just don’t like people.
So naturally I live in a city.
It’s easier to be invisible here, though. For the most part, no one looks at me, or sees me, and that’s how I like it. I like to have alone time. I need it. Most people need social time or they start to get a little stir crazy, but I have always been the complete opposite. I need time to quiet my mind or I can’t shut out the noise of the outside world vey well at all. I get overwhelmed.
The thing is, I actually do like going out for brunch and things. I like Friday Night Date Night. I like being around people, one on one or in small groups. Most of the time I still have trouble talking and being present, but I miss it when it’s not there, and look forward to it each and every time.
I just have so much trouble leaving my apartment. And hate everything in between that and getting to where I want to be.
This wasn’t as short as I thought it would be, after all.