So, after much prevarication we've had every window in the house replaced
It's needed doing for a while, the fact that the curtains move in the breeze even when the windows are closed tells you how shot the double glazing is (and, likely, how shoddy it was in the first place). It's also ruining any attempt to heat the house – since some rooms are nitheringly cold (the one with the thermostat, alas) and others baking hot (our bedroom and my study) leading to many days of central heating on full blast and windows wide open. This? Is not efficient, environmentally sound, economically wise or even vaguely sensible.
So a few weeks back we had sales men and surveyors wandering round and that... bothered me. Bothered me a hell of a lot actually, way more than I expected. I mean, I know I'm a natural hermit. One of the reasons why Beloved and I have lasted so long is he recognises the many many fractures in my mind and, among them, knows that at times he needs to leave me alone in an empty, silent room so I can regroup. So people coming into my house, my space? Badness, I expect badness. But going into EVERY ROOM with measures? No, really no. This I do not like not even slightly. I was probably the most unsociable, rude person in the world to those poor guys because every instinct wanted to kick them out and get my space back.
And then the workmen came to put the windows in. All day. The mess of the old windows coming out, the smell of the sealant – people in every room making noise. and everything being moved and re-arranged. There's no space, no privacy, no silence. Every last damn inch of space has been violated and there was nowhere to go. And strangers abound, having access to my whole house all day - even my most personal and secure sanctuaries
Well, it's interesting what your learn about yourself. Discomfort was expected. The severity of it, rather surprised me. I've no idea what the workmen thought about the strange, shaking, silent person, constantly taking deep, slightly hyperventilating breaths, trying to hide from them but I doubt it was a good impression. I'm something of a wreck, trying to re-find my silence.
At least it makes me thankful that doctor-person convinced me that keeping those pills around just in case was a good idea. Damn this is frustrating. Isn't it beyond annoying when you can look out, know you're being ridiculous, but still not be able to stop or get a handle on things?
And Beloved's normally great handling of my messed-up-ness has short circuited because he's worried about how bad this was. So he's leaving me alone and letting me try and rebuild but then worrying and checking on me which is chaining a whole “NO, silence! Peace! Emptiness!” response from me which chains into more worry... we're working out way to a mutual basketcaseness. On the plus side, these windows are much much more sound proof than the last ones.
Realllly tempted just to open a bottle of rum and yell “screw it.” But booze and pills are badness, it is known. Instead I've taken some time to rebuild my sense of privacy and security and silence. Rebuilding mental walls is always time consuming and beyond frustrating. Silly brain, work properly