I haven't gone to the convention yet. LoveHubbie is already there. I am feeling that hermit-like feeling I haven't felt in a long time. Like all I want to do is to be cloistered off alone with my art and my writing and no contact with the outside world for a few weeks. It is such a strong feeling. More than a craving--a feeling of desperation that I have to constantly fight.
I've been struggling with it for a few weeks, but it keeps building in intensity.
My timing is so off.
This is an important convention both for LoveHubbie and myself. Still, if I were alone, I'd just leave. Flee the city, go home, cancel everything and have a retreat. Forget the lost money, the missed workshops, the neglected relationships and never have a second thought about any of it. As it is, I'm choosing to stay so that LoveHubbie can feel supported and will stay as well.
Hiding out in the hotel seems the best compromise at this point. Peppered with solitary walks, a visit to an art store, and maybe even a meal alone at Fresh Bistro, I'm hoping. If the weather holds, I'd really enjoy going to a local park. Alone. Revel in the peace. The smiles on people's faces. Little dogs. The cool air and overcast sky. Puget Sound. Vivid colors. Seagulls.
This isn't the first time this type of thing has happened. I keep hoping that someday I'll accept my reclusive nature and not put myself in situations that involve regular social interaction. Maybe that's the lesson I need to get today. As much as I want to be different, as much as I enjoy people, when I force myself to live a life of normal and natural social interactions, I end up folding and retreating. When I continue to strive and resolutely will myself through (an option I no longer take), I get sick. It's something I really don't want to accept. But this is a good time to work on accepting it, since fighting it and forcing myself to fit in just doesn't work.