My parents have been visiting this week – well two of the four of them. The intention was for them to help out (be around) as contractors came to pour a concrete slab and then an HVAC company would come and replace the AC unit. It’s been hot and crowded (compared to what I’m accustomed to) and we all have entirely different senses of time and space and priorities. I feel like I’m in some rom-com. The lost adult child whose life is falling apart visiting his parents and struggling with their quirks… except I don’t run in to a girl I liked in high school who is in almost the exact same situation…Some of the com and none of the rom.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had to live with other people. I’m not used to sharing the space (the kitchen, the bathroom, the living room). I’m not used to having the TV on for the sake of having the TV on (I started a different blog post about “The Bachelorette”). I’m not used to someone knocking on the bathroom door “is someone in there?” Because the door, shut, locked, and the light on isn’t enough of an indicator of occupancy. I’m not used to being surrounded by conversations that seem to go nowhere and are often based on misunderstanding or mishearing things.
“I thought you said to leave the windows open.”
“I never said to leave the windows open.”
“I could have swore you said to leave the windows open… it’s nice out – that’s why I left the windows open…”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t nice out – it is.”
or
“I thought you were going to go to TJ Maxx.”
“I was. But.”
“But what? What does that mean?”
“I thought I’d have more time.”
For the most part, I have stayed out of these conversations. I observe. The few that have involved me have landed somewhere between inane and infuriating. The questions: “What type of milk is this?” “Did you turn the air conditioner off? I don’t think you’re supposed to turn the air conditioner off.” “Aren’t you going to freeze the pork?” “Won’t a beer attract the bugs?” all feel somewhat judgemental… which then makes me feel overly-sensitive. (Oat milk. Yes, and yes, it’s perfectly fine to turn an AC off. Nope, I’m going to eat the pork. Maybe, but I’m ok with bugs if it means I get to have my beer outside.)
Admittedly, I have, at times, been short with them. In fact, I feel like I’ve been short, or defensive, or frustrated a lot this past week (and longer). The other day, after an episode in which I found myself frustrated and short, I drove to work thinking I didn’t used to be this way. I was always the carefree one – the guy who didn’t really let things get to him. A few years ago a colleague gave me a mug with the word meh on it – I could always be counted on to shrug things off and put them in their proper perspective. Life’s bigger than all the petty things. Now, something feels different. I don’t shrug things off the way I used to. I’m less carefree. I once heard similar feelings described as having an emotionally full cup and any little bit extra spills over. Yep, that’s pretty much how I’ve felt.
As for the incident… I had just come back from dog training (where I felt defensive for not being an A+ dog dad) and was trying to get a few things done and get out the door. I had put the dog in a large downstairs room where he could be locked away from the contractors and have more room to roam. He would need to be moved when the contractors needed to get in to that room (in a few hours) to access the electrical panel. I was giving my dad instructions on getting the dog from point A (downstairs room) to point b (my room). To me, the instructions were pretty simple – ask the guys to wait outside, let the dog out of the basement, give him a few treats, lure him into my room, shut the door. I could see the uncertainty in my dad’s face. “Maybe you should just put him up in your room now.” There was a ladder blocking my door, a contractor up in the attic banging and working on things, I would likely need to go in and out of my room a few times as I got ready (which is easier if there isn’t a dog at the door), and I was trying to get going… there were a number of reasons I didn’t put the dog in my room. What I needed and wanted in that moment was an “ok, no problem” a “sure thing, easy enough.” That’s when I got short with a “fine” and stopped what I was doing to put the dog in my room. I left the house in huff.
I’m bothered by not feeling like I’m the guy I was a few years ago. I see this a lot on Twitter and social media – people saying they don’t feel like they have the capacity to deal with things they way they used to. I’m even more bothered by the fact that this feeling of not having time or space or whatever it is, sounds too much like what I would hear from an ex who was feeling suffocated. Many many months ago I wrote about not needing alone time or space to myself, and now I find myself feeling frustrated over what feels like incessant demands on my time and attention. Two years ago I went on this journey of trying to being the person I want to find, but I didn’t quite mean it in that way.
I’m smart enough to know that these frustrations have a cumulative effect, a wearing away of sorts. I’m more than aware that the comments (about the pork, the AC, etc. etc.) are closer to observations than they are criticisms. I try to remind myself to go easy on the self-criticism… to pull back, pause, rethink, and maybe shrug off. All the while, I try to pinpoint (unsuccessfully) a moment – the turn from easy-going to whatever this is.
The folks leave tomorrow. The AC is fixed. These last few days, the weather has been pretty close to perfect. Last night I went to see Keith Kenny – a musician from back home. This morning I woke up and sat on the deck and read and wrote and listened to birds and watched the steam rise from the damp rooftops. Tonight, the fireflies are out as dusk settles in. Fireworks whistle and pop in the distance – I can see the sparkle and fade through the trees. I’ll sit here awhile – ear buds in with a glass of wine (bugs be damned)… Soon the stars will be out – under which pretty much everything seems trivial and immense and connected.