I still haven´t got over it even now.
I want to spend huge amounds of time in my room.
And I´m not coming out until I feel ready,
Not running out while my heart´s unsteady,
And I´m not really in your head.
–Everything But The Girl/Roller CoasterThere’s a world where I can go
And tell my secrets to
In my room
–Beach Boys/In My Room
When I was a little girl, my mother always had a hell of a time getting me out of my room. I was always someone who liked to be inside. Everything I loved to do was more easily done indoors: drawing, reading, writing. Being outside? With other people? That was boring. Or scary if I didn’t know the people.
Like most children of our generation, my brother and I were required to be outside at all times. I think we were supposed to come home from school, have a snack, not burn the house down, watch Sesame Street or the Electric Company, and then go outside and play until we were called in for dinner.
The older I got, the less inclined I was to be either outside or with other kids. The way my Ma tells it, when I was a teenager she asked me if I wanted something while we were at the dinner table and in response I screamed “why can’t everyone just leave me alone!” and then locked myself in my room forever. I don’t remember the episode but cannot deny that I did lock myself in my room for a few decades. I’m exaggerating slightly. Well..actually…it’s probably accurate if I consider it as a cumulative total rather than consecutive years. Anyway, it sounds like something I would have done at fifteen or so, and there is no denying that I did lock myself in my room for a long time.
I’m guessing that I probably also slammed the door and burst into tears. Not necessarily in that order.
What did I gain from it? I started to say “peace” but that’s wrong. Quiet. Solitude. A lack of interaction with anyone but books, notebooks and a sketch pad. I was left alone. I learned to think. Exactly what I wanted.
What I lost was also interaction with anyone but books, notebooks and a sketch pad. I was left alone. I didn’t learn how to act like a human being. Not what i wanted at all. Interesting how that works.
I wonder if I was in my room for as long as Brian Wilson was? It probably doesn’t really count since I always came out for school. In college, I mostly was out of my room. I went back in during the 90’s, and I’ve been out again now for a long time. Did I grow out of it? Did I get better? Maybe. Or maybe I will end up back in there again. It’s not so bad. I have music to listen to and books to read. Words to write. If I got bored, I could knit, weave or carve lino and make prints. There are a lot of things to do in my room.
Sometimes I really want to stay in, but I don’t. Maybe that’s the only difference–just deciding not to.
If I go back in, I’ll let you know.
I could set up a mailing list.