Under the Blankets

That Little Voice

I can hide under a blanket or a layer of blankets, physically, emotionally, and mentally, reveling in the quiet, warm, and secure cave where I can stay hidden.

But, how much comfort and warmth can I stand? How much do I miss chaos? A bit of drama can add spice to my life. And reality calls to be unleashed. Besides, I’m burning up from all those damn blankets of safety.

Hiding out gets boring after awhile. I need fresh air, people stimulating my humor, anger, sadness, joy. And what’s life about without gossip, criticism pointed at someone else, and sharing my disjointed thoughts with someone whose bobble head nods in agreement.

Isolation is not something I can do for an extended period. I need privacy, but not a locked casket.

My freedom, imagination, and sanity require a menu of conflict, compassion, and company, not a continuous meal but some amount of a mixture served when called upon.

Maybe its an age thing, but I now demand time alone, but also require companionship. Now this is an age thing…I must insist on doing either on my own timeline. I cannot force myself to interact if all I want to do is take a nap. And when I’m playing a game of Mexican Train with friends, I’m out from underneath that cover hiding parts of myself, and am not eager to go back into my cave.

Perhaps this is much like a child. An infant knows when she is hungry, sleepy, awake, tired, or wet. And she is quick to let us know. Crying gets someone’s attention, and action usually follows quickly.

The problem with being an adult, I can be hungry, sleepy, awake, tired or wet and no one seems to hear my cries of woe or want to help ease my discomfort. I am expected to kick those covers off, get dressed, brush my teeth, and decide what to do next.

There are days when I can roll out from under the mass of blankets, dust off the dregs of isolation, and get on with reality.

Then, there are those days when I would rather live in the lap of aloneness, stay covered up, and let my mind wander with no direction or purpose.

My life is good whether alone or with others, but I’m not sharing my blankets with anyone but my doglets.