My house is my shell right now. It's the one place where I'm safe and protected. The weather has been bad, but I haven't been out of the house much since the end of January. Most days pass by without me so much as taking a step out the door. Right or wrong, I'm able to drive right now. That hasn't even been much of a motivation to leave the house.
Sure, the house is warm and cozy. Yet, that's not why I stay. I can't seem to force myself into social settings. The idea of being in large groups of people seems painful and beyond my tolerance level. Even being around a very small group of people sends me into a panic of trying to find an exit.
It's been so easy for me to completely withdraw from people and life. It's been too easy to spend most days laying on my bed staring at the wall. It's safer there. The phone doesn't ring, doesn't make much noise at all. Not much interrupts my daily routine of curling up in my shell.
There isn't anything big that's happened recently. That isn't to say that I've ever gotten over some of the bigger hurts of the past few years, because I don't think I ever will.
There have been a lot of small things that have piled up and maybe that's driven me back into my shell. Lots of small hurts with lack of acknowledgement. Lots of disappointment, usually in the lack of communication or help from those who've said they care. (disclaimer: that doesn't apply to everyone)
What's even uglier is that the weight of it all has the potential to crush my shell. Yes, my days and days of being all alone because that feels safer has great potential to backfire on me. Sadly, I can't survive either way. Neither is good for me. I'm willing to wait it out until someone crushes my shell or I lose my sanity.
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