Panic or Preference

My stomach clenched when Dr. Counselor asked if I wanted to see him in two weeks. I sat in silence, looked down at my hands where they rested in my lap and tried to relax.

“I’m panicking.” I told him. “I don’t like the idea of not coming every week.” This was perhaps a bit out of place in a session that was quite positive. He had ticked off the points on his hand as we went through them. Work? Going relatively well – I get frustrated and overwhelmed, but to a tolerable degree. And progress speaks volumes. Spiritually? Also starting to do some work here. Praying more, found a church, like my pastor a huge amount. Friends? I have one – a close one who happens to be local who I happened to meet through my blog. I’m fairly healthy and could do the work to become more so if I felt so moved. Life is starting to look good.

“So what’s your biggest problem?” He asked. I didn’t answer – wasn’t sure what he was looking for and didn’t want to guess wrong and get kicked out of therapy. I like knowing someone is keeping track of my mental health.

“I think,” he finally said when I remained in stubborn silence, “it’s that you’re not mated. You haven’t found a sweetheart, a husband, a father for your children.”

I nodded.

“It’ll happen.” He said confidently. “When it’s time, it will happen. God is preparing you and is also working to get someone ready to meet you. In His time, your paths will intersect and life will make more sense. You’re not meant to be alone.”

There are certain facts I think I know about myself. Just instant answers when someone asks a question. Little quirks and preferences so deeply ingrained that they elicit immediate reactions of such strength that they can’t be ignored.

Do you believe in God? Yes. Absolutely.

Do you love your family? Of course. Very, very much.

Do you like dogs? At this I would smile and look around. I love dogs! Is there one here? May I pet her?

Do you tolerate needles? No. I will cry if you attempt to give me a shot.

How do you feel about bugs? Scared of them. Grossed out. I screamed when I accidentally touched a worm while I was weeding out front last summer.

Then there are the more difficult questions. The ones that cause me to pause and perform some internal examination to see how I’m thinking, how I’m feeling, in order to decide what I want. What represents who I am and who I hope to be in some real yet difficult to define way.

Do you want to fall in love? Yes. Desperately. Yet despite considerable effort, I have been unable to do so in a healthy, sustainable, passionate way. Given the choice between being alone and having something that’s just slightly wrong, I’ve gone with the former.

Do you like people? Yes. Sometimes. I’m vaguely uneasy in large crowds and will often find myself irritated by people I don’t know. They’re sometimes in my way. I stick to small groups of close friends – likely focused on a single individual – when possible. But there are other times when I need the quiet. The solitude. I’ve just always been that way.

Will you help people? Well, it depends. How hard will it be? Can someone else do it? Am I going to be hurt or embarrassed or otherwise inconvenienced? Or will it feel easy and natural despite any problems? Sometimes I'm good. Sometimes I'm not.

Are you meant to be alone? I hope not. I really hope I find someone who can love as well as tolerate me. I’m not always easy to be around. I like company – wallow less, laugh more, focus on what’s important, do what I should be doing instead of watching TV or reading blogs for hours on end. I want to care for someone and have him nurture me in return.

My point is that there are certain things I just know. There are others I need to figure out.

I called the eHarmony boy tonight. Instead of the normal sounds that indicate a phone is ringing while I wait, it was music. Some sort of rap music with lots of bass and pounding rhythm. And I listened for a minute, horrified but not wanting to be overly rude by hanging up before he answered. But I snapped the phone closed anyway. I was willing to look past the fact that he didn’t do well via email. He admittedly was uncomfortable with the medium and while I don’t comprehend the concept, I can appreciate – due to my own phone weirdness sometimes – that some people are better in different settings.

Do you date people who play music instead of the classic ring tones when someone calls them?

No.

I don’t. I just don’t. That might say something bad about me – indicate some superficial quality that means I deserve to be alone. But, no. Just…no.

I am not, however, cruel. I don’t mean to make the dating process any harder than it needs to be. So I sent him email explaining that I was a bit out of practice and not overly fond of the phone. That Chienne had required my immediate attention and while I knew he missed the call, I wasn’t comfortable calling him back. I apologized and said I knew it was a weird trait to have. But I felt honesty – to some extent as I didn’t indicate I was quite bothered by the music on his cell phone and instead went with ‘I called and freaked out for some reason. Sorry about that.’ – made me feel better about my reaction.

Friend needs to make a decision about her living arrangements in the near future. There are a few reasons that moving in here makes a good deal of sense. We do get along well – I really enjoy having her around. I would let her move out with no notice if her employment circumstances change and would charge her little rent in the meantime. My mood tends to level out around people, so she would likely help with that. Yes, I panic about changes, but it’s not good for me to be so rigid. There are many, many facets I like about the idea of having a roommate. Of having Friend for a roommate.

Are you the type of person who has 6 pets? Well, seven counting a gerbil?

Friend has 4 cats and little spice-named rodent. I say the latter affectionately as he really is quite cute. The cats are gorgeous and I very much like the two I know. When Friend said the animals would work things out as we integrated them, I tend to believe her. I never thought my princess of a hound and the stray tabby hunter would become friends, but they do just fine. She eats his food sometimes. He bites her ears. She growls when he tries to play with her when she wants to nap instead. He’ll hiss when she gets too close to a toy or treat he’s decided is his. We do OK overall though. The infrared dog door, something to prop the guest room door open so Chienne doesn’t trap herself in there. An elaborate design of carpet squares, plastic sheets, bath mat, daily scooping and Kone vacuum to keep the litter area clean. I freaked out when I realized I’d acquired a cat, but I love him dearly now.

But a veritable zoo? Really? There’d be animals everywhere in my tiny house. And for some reason, the thought makes me skin feel too tight. I wince immediately when I picture it.

I talked to my parents – attempting to reach Mom on her cell phone since I knew she’d be more reasonable. I failed and ended up talking to Dad on the house phone.

“It’s fine to have Friend move in.” He interrupted as I was telling the story. “But you have too many animals there already! You’re crazy if you get more. Katie, that’s just… I mean, it’s your house. You do what you want. But that’s just too many animals. You’re crazy if you do that.”

Mom was more diplomatic. “Six pets?” She asked softly.

“Well, seven counting the gerbil.” I confirmed. “All we’d need is a monkey for the attic and two goats for the back yard.”

She laughed for a moment, then sighed. “I don’t know what to tell you, sweetheart. Whatever you do will be fine. But I couldn’t live with that many critters around. That’s just… a lot. And you’d have to be careful that they don’t do much damage since you’re reselling the house at some point. But whatever you decide will be fine.”

So I’ve cleaned and considered and tried to figure out what to decide. Because it doesn’t feel like either decision would be right. It feels more like both would be wrong.

I don’t like to think of myself as the type of person who refuses help when I could offer it. Especially to someone I love and for whom I want only good things. It makes sense. I really would like having her around. Saying no is repugnant to me - I hate the very idea. I don’t want our relationship to change for the worse and while she assures me that a ‘not so much’ answer won’t do that, I fear it would for me. I wonder if every time I look at her, I’ll think, ‘you’re a sucky person. Bad, bad friend.’ of myself and avoid her while I try to get away from that feeling. That knowledge.

But. No. I’m not the type of person who has that many animals. I just can’t picture it. I don’t know that I can get past it. It’s an instant reaction to a situation. And it doesn't feel like a panicked reaction to change. It feels like a core quality I can't get around.

“My concern looks like a cat.” I told her this afternoon as we discussed it. And that’s true. I could get past house rules – compromising in a home that’s all mine, having less space that I do sometimes use (though very rarely), cramming more possessions in a structure where I take up all available room. It’s all fine – I’d likely feel some pangs as I adjusted, but I could pull it off.

It’s the cats. Maybe if there were only 2, I thought when I sent her email. Then I’d be below a half dozen overall and if I never mentioned it to anyone, then I’m all good. We’ll just pretend it’s not happening. But it would bother me. I would feel this strange embarrassment that I can’t really understand. I don’t know why I think it’s too many for me. It just is.

What if that guy is smart and funny and would love me to distraction? I’m willing to say ‘oh, no. Really, really not.’ over a single phone setting?

A friend needs some help that I’m willing and capable of giving, but I’m considering a refusal here because I can’t have that many cats in my house?

Yes. It’s shameful and terrible and all sorts of other things. But that’s apparently the kind of person I am.

[insert profanity here.]