The lines although unspoken of have at some point been drawn or sensed. There's a sensitivity there that would sometimes benefit from blunt force; a well-intentioned clumsiness almost if in-roads are to be made. If trust is to begin. The hand of friendship extended, or strengthened. Or even just change: a gradual shift in tolerance of what's okay, what's not. What is acceptable and what will be politely refused. Thanked, if on the odd occasion it helps them out, or was obviously kindly-meant though unasked for, but will be an irritation if that action becomes habitual, since it means it can't then be taken (and accepted) as a considerate thought. A circumstance that seemed to arise innocently, though it may not have, but which if repeated too often in that same guise or another begins to encroach on their personal space, fills it up or takes up a regular corner. Like the old men you occasionally still see in pubs, in their usual seat, huddled over and morosely staring into a pint.
Imagine feeling that way about a do-gooder, because the recipient of that behaviour wouldn't be able to help it. Neither would want to risk offence, yet inadvertently they've offending each other. And saying nothing about it, only showing it in facial expressions and body language 'No Fair!' as a child might say as if the game's been cheated at or the older sibling or adult's won.
Tread carefully because you tread on my feelings, to misquote Yeats' He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven, because dreams in this instance don't enter into it. It's a mode of being. Which to both is foreign. Somewhat.
All of us, to some extent, have borders we don't like to be crossed, certainly not uninvited. The problem is sometimes hints are made that it would be okay and they're not picked up on. Or it goes completely the other way and the unsubtle hints that it's not, aren't. Yes, it's a conundrum that humans are poor at. And getting poorer at. Annually.
Some people are lonely; others like to be alone. Some are joiners; some are decidedly not. One rule doesn't fit the other. And then there's some who like company and privacy, just not to a timetable enforced by anyone other than themselves. That have-to, made-to, duty-like feeling is hard to mitigate and removes enjoyment from any social situation, as well as the ease in which you might enter into it. Although there are times it can't be avoided when someone unexpected descends on you. Grin and bear it is the maxim.
Grit your teeth, is how I refer to it, and it seems I do this, mildly, in sleep too, so maybe there is something to be said for dreams. That in mine there are still inhibitions that I haven't give voice to and won't. Ground, ground, ground...presumably because in waking life I've given some, grudgingly. And now, in sleep, I'm clawing it back.
Intensely private people find it difficult to lighten (and brighten) up where matters of overstepping are concerned. Yet at the same time we get so used to our private state we can't ask when we wish it, for a moment, otherwise. Especially because usually it needs to be of the 'Now', not next week or in a month's time, but NOW. Something that's built up needs to be relieved, almost like a pressure cooker except it's not explosive if ignored. It would just die, a balloon pricked by a pin, without the bang. A sad and sudden deflation in spirit, reflected on but almost as quickly forgotten about. That's my experience anyway.
Sometimes that pressure can wait till the morrow, be content simmering if there's a plan, an outing afoot. To talk, to share, to see people. On your (and their) terms. When it's not an ordeal as it's been arranged and agreed, even if on some small level you're tolerating some of it. Why do I always say tolerate when it should be seen as compromise?
No matter. Aha, maybe that's it – the scale slides. From person to person. From day to day.
Picture credit: Mrs C P Grant, 1921, Stanley Spencer.
All posts published this year were penned during the last.
