The Perfect Home

[thesarahscope]

Above:  My Mom took a screenshot of one of my posts and sent it to me. I look at it and remind myself that I have felt this way, that I will feel this way again.

I am uncomfortable around people frequently, though I try to hide it. I am never one to invite people to my house. I am fiercely protective of my space, and if you have seen it, it means I trust you completely. I have flat out stopped people at my door from entering, and I have peered out the door and refused to answer faces that I know. I stalk around at night making sure the overhead lights are off, that only lamps are lit, so no one can see inside. Sometimes, when I can’t sleep at night, and I go to the kitchen for something to snack on, I catch my reflection in the window and think it’s someone else. I freeze in terror in those moments, knowing the end has finally come. When I realize it’s my own reflection, I go hunt up my meds, and I take them, relieved that no one had to find me with a spoon in the peanut butter jar and no bra on, slumped over in the unmopped floor with cat fur tumbleweeds hiding in the corners. My house is nothing like C.’s house.

Mom and I stop by to visit on Saturday, and we enter after a brief knock. Her house is often busy, and everyone is always congregated in the kitchen. It feels like coming to your parent’s house. You enter, and I don’t know how she does it, but you feel welcome deep down. There is no discomfort, on the contrary you eyeball the stove or island to see what she’s cooking. We slide on the barstools, and the conversation is funny, interesting, and I think if C. lived ages ago she could host the best salon in town. She has the ability to mix different people, different ages, different interests, and everyone gets along. There is much laughter, and she is at the center. She is always off on something new, and you love that about her. Last time you visited, she told you about the cooking class she was taking online with an Italian Grandma. She learned to make homemade pasta with a small group of people from around the world. She hosted Mom’s retirement party, and it was the best party I’ve been to in my life.

I love her house. We always overstay our welcome, though she doesn’t seem to mind. I never want to go home when I visit her, and this is something rare for me. As we head out the door this visit, she shows us her new Schwinn she got that was an advertisement for Pinnacle Vodka. It is right that she bike around on such a quirky bike, Pinnacle Vodka running along between the wheels. I love her for it. I love her zest for life. I love that she shares her best makeup samples with us sometimes. I believe she would literally peel off her shirt if someone needed it. I will forever picture her, all beauty, smiling and chattering in her flower bed and yanking mint with frenzy, shoving it in a bag for me to plant at my house. I always feel like she is a bubbling spring that people come and gather around, watching and enjoying, and they leave replenished. She is a well of happy, and I have no idea how you do that, but I’m so damn glad that someone does.

 

Comments

[beeswing]

Ahh, that sounds so wonderful and inspires me. I am more inward-facing but have started to feel as if it is restrictive and that I might want to open up more and invite others in. I guess these things flow and change.

[thesarahscope]

I agree. There are times when I definitely am more open to being with people. I'm Bipolar/BPD so it really depends on where I'm at mentally.