Shelters

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I'm still absorbing the book "the Solitude of Prime Numbers".  It's fascinating following the characters.  It has some gems that hit me one in awhile.  The latest one is where a character is about to ask a young woman out on a date and how he prepares for it.

'……"I thought you could come to dinner at my place," Fabio tossed out.  His confidence faltered for a moment in the middle of those words, but he immediately shook off his uncertainty.  He plunged both hands into the pockets of his white coat and prepared to accept any kind of reply with the same kind of lightness.  He knew how to build a shelter for himself even before he needed one.'

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I know what shelters Giordano is describing. Reading it makes me feel more sane.  More normal.  I have built elaborate shelters.  I have designed shelters way before I have an encounter where I feel I may be rejected.  I remember some shelters I have built to withstand use after use.  Shelters that are invisible but calculated and drawn out with escape routes and extra bolts for safety.  

One of my elaborate shelters is the "disappearing before being rejected".  That one is designed so I am more in control of the floor plan.  I will go to an event, party, or even a singing job and leave before I feel too much anxiety.  I make my contact with people who I feel are pretty safe.  Safe in that they show approval in their conversation with me.  I watch the group and erase from my view any strangers or unpredictable encounters.  My anxiety is high but I know if I keep moving I am still in control.  When I feel like I have my back against a wall (literally) and I'm just watching people like I'm not there and they can't see me, I begin to start my exit.  Normally, when I make an exit I do it quickly.  I don't want to appear like I'm waiting for someone to notice me and say, "No, don't go!"  I've already placed myself out of the situation and there's no turning back.  I've already judged myself and told myself I don't belong there, I don't fit in.

A few months ago I agreed to meet with three couples to go to a fancy restaurant in Istanbul.  I knew which bus to take and had the directions to the Migros store where we were to meet before we walked to the restaurant.  I took hours deciding what to wear.  These people were all teachers at Eyuboglu, the school I taught at, and their spouses.  I knew I was the only single person and I was going to go anyway.  I wasn't sure "how" fancy the restaurant was, so what I wore would make me feel less conspicuous about myself.  I wanted to be neutral.  Being the only single was standing out enough.  I didn't want what I wore to add to it.  

No taxi was available on any of the streets I tried on the way to the bus stop.  Police barricades were set up all around the area of Moda down to the Bosphorus because of some demonstration parade through the area.  I walked about two miles knowing this was making me late for the bus.  When I got the the bus stop there were at least 20 buses and none of them had the name of the area I was suppose to head to. (very normal, but I didn't know what destination to look for to head in that direction)  I ask a few people in my poor Turkish and got conflicting answers.  I finally decided to get on a bus I thought was the correct bus.  Every seat was full after I sat down in the front.  The driver was in his seat and was looking at some paperwork.  I figured the bus was about to leave but the driver got off and started to talk to the driver of the bus next to us and proceeded to light up a cigarette and visit.  Relaxed posture, obviously not in any hurry to climb back on the bus and take off.  I sat and sat, knowing I was holding up six people on a night out.  I called one of the teachers and told her I was running late.  She said it wasn't a problem, they'd just meet me at the restaurant. I panicked because they had already said it was hard to find that was why they were meeting at Migros.  I also felt like they had decided I wasn't worth waiting for.  I heard the conversation differently in my mind which was processing it and putting up the shelter.  "It's okay if you tag along as long as I could find the restaurant on your own."

I called her back and fortunately got her voice mail.  (another shelter for me)  I left a shaky message that I wasn't coming and would just return home again.  I got off the bus and started home.  I was hungry, cold, upset.  I was in an emotional panic because I had put myself in the position of failure without a shelter.  Failure with witnesses! Which makes it more difficult.  She called twice and left a message.  I had already set up a quick shelter which gave me a quiet place I could go. This shelter had no phone.  It was a quiet place where I could cry and no one could hear me.  It protected me sharing my vulnerability.  Its perimeters didn't allow me to accept pity. 

When I sing at weddings or funerals I carry a shelter with me.  It's sturdy but worn.  It's the shelter I use the most.  It blurs my vision so I can't see any faces when I sing.  It freezes my personality so I am a shell that doesn't interact with anyone.  I deliver the music by focusing on the meaning of the words and sing from my heart.  Since both events are emotionally charged, I am drained when I allow the connection between myself and the congregation or gatherers.  I warm up before I sing, meditate while I'm waiting for the ceremony to begin, and usually leave before anyone can connect with me.  I never go to the lunches or dinners I'm always invited to.  I rarely go through the line-up to congratulate or give my condolences.  I leave.  

It's safe. It's lonely too.  My shelter also feel like a prison.  I think I built this overused shelter when I was about 13 years old.  I was afraid to say, "Thank you", when complimented.  I was self-critical of my music ability and hated it when I apologized for my failures.  It was humiliating and the people complimenting me became as uncomfortable as me.  They only remembered the good and I was dwelling on the mistakes and blowing them out of proportion. I wasn't accepting their approval so I shut myself out from interacting at all.  Not to say I wasn't caught many times from being protected from this shelter.  But, I learned to say a rehearsed, "Thank you" with a sincere smile as I closed my guitar up in its case and headed for the door.  I am thankful for compliments.  They're just so very difficult to sort through and the best compliment is an attentive listener while I'm singing.  A listener that comes with me in the song and I can lead them with my voice and soul.

• Another shelter I've designed is the "family" shelter.  I avoid orchestrated family gatherings.  They come with huge expectations.  I have a shelter that offers a comfortable dwelling place in these events.
• It has rules on the inside of the door.  
• Don't make promises
• Don't allow anyone to be a target of ridicule, least of all you
• If you feel your honesty is being rejected, end the conversation and move
• Don't humor drunk relatives, you can visit with them when they are sober
• Don't isolate yourself, mingle with everyone
• When there is a standstill in conversations, take pictures
• If you feel your privacy is being invaded, defer the subject
• Leave when you've had enough.  Groups are exhausting.                                                     
• 
  

This shelter has worked well for me the past few years.  But, I've broken the first rule in my list for next summer.  I promised to organize the Ney Reunion in July.  It will help me learn to redecorate my "family" shelter and have a fresh look at what it is lacking. The problem with shelters is they don't protect me from the most damaging factor.  Myself.  They don't stop me from punishing myself for the failures.  They don't stop me from using them even when they aren't affective.  They don't encourage me to be brave, branch out, or allow me to leave situations be what they are without pre-judging them.  I know the same shelters I've sought protection from can be the ones that torture me.  I am learning.  I am growing.  I'm glad there is no graduation date for growing up and becoming wise.  I have a lot of lessons and studying to do without a deadline or a final test.  Some of the most difficult lessons are the ones that use social skills I haven't explored.  Those are the scary ones.  But, maybe those are the ones that won't need blue-prints with designs for shelters.  Maybe they'll be the ones that have a path without an end.

Galway, Ireland