who do I know?

How is it that we can connect so deeply with the people we know only online? And what does it mean to know someone, anyway?

Last week, I talked with someone I hadn't seen in several months. Her daughter has a serious drug addiction that has led to legal problems, a pregnancy, and a probable stay in prison. I asked her what kind of support she is getting, and she went on to tell me about the online support group she'd found for parents of addicts.

In a family that feels dysfunctional in comparison to her friends, neighbors, and colleagues, with her online group, she feels understood in a way that doesn't happen in her daily life. Her friends know she's stressed and worried--but the other parents of addicts really "get" her. They provide an understanding mirror, to help her see the positive coping strategies she's developed and a way of seeing how functional she is in such a difficult situation.

I talked with her about the hysterectomy support website I'm part of and how normalizing it can be to simply have an understanding "me, too" in response to a question or concern.

It really struck me how much I have valued the understanding I get from the people I don't know, but who know me so well.

It hit me again tonight. I was chatting with someone I met through the hysterectomy support site. She recently lost her father, which made her grieve not only that loss but the loss of her mother many years ago. We were in an online chat that lasted two hours. I don't know if I would recognize her if I bumped into her at the mall, but for those two hours, online, I knew her very well. Although her loss isn't all we talked about, it was there, and I gave her virtual (((hugs))) and validated her feelings as best as I could. I think it helped a little.

In this online world, I don't have words for some of my best friends, the ones I know online. When my son had his accident and I posted about it on Facebook, many of the people who immediately responded were people I don't know face-to-face--but they care about me very much.

My mom sees that I currently have 186 Facebook friends. "How many of them do you really know?" she asks. "All of them," I say, "even the ones I've never met."

so how are you doing?

Every year, the end of August is filled with the joy of greeting friends and colleagues I haven't seen since May. This year, I'm finding a little less joy in the reunion. At the end of April, we had our nightmare of car crash/no insurance/job loss. After several months, people who genuinely care about me naturally want to know how things are going. So they ask. And it's horrible.

I got a message from a friend asking me why I was so aloof with her at a meeting yesterday. And here's why.

I'm so sorry, everyone. I'm anti-social because it's just too hard to be something else. You want to know how I am? Really?

I have a hard time answering the question, "How are things going?" because they're not going well. We still have only one vehicle (one that squishes my family uncomfortably), my husband doesn't have a job yet, and our finances suck. I get no paycheck in September, so they're about to suck even more. When you are nice and ask if I'd like to have lunch, the answer is that I'd love to--but unless you offer to pay, it isn't going to happen. Going out to lunch is, well, not in the wallet. And my husband is having a hard time, too, and is sitting around on his butt all day. He applies for jobs online (there's really not much out there) and he makes some phone calls, but he isn't doing any projects around the house and I'm still doing the laundry, loading the dishwasher, etc. When I'm at home, I'm trying to be supportive of him. This is really, really hard when I'm terrified. And I hate being home because when we're behind on bills, we get phone calls that I simply cannot bring myself to answer. The house is a mess, because when I'm at home I can barely drag myself off the couch to function. It's that hard.

My babies are growing up so fast and I feel like my life as a mom is passing me by. My oldest child will be a high school senior, and his younger brother and sister will be freshmen. I don't know where the time has gone, and now it feels like there's so little time left. Is there anything I've done right as a mom? Do I have enough time yet to still make a difference?

And when I seem to brush you off when you ask me how I am, it's because I don't want to burst into tears. It isn't just you. I blew off a good friend's party last week because I couldn't bear the looks of pity from people who care about me or the "and what does your husband do?" questions from people who don't know what's going on. I got trapped in the copy room last week while I was making handouts for a workshop. A well-meaning colleague gave me a half-hour of "I'm so sorry for you" and "Let me know what I can do." What can you do? You can treat me like I'm still me and not like a broke and broken person who has made stupid decisions and is afraid she won't ever get her life back.

So generally, things are not so great, but I've mostly been coping fairly well and am usually able to be positive.You are so sweet, and I know you care, and I just have had to stay superficial with a lot of people because it's the only way I can cope sometimes and because I don't have the words for my frustrations. And see, even writing this has me on the verge of tears that will pour down my face. I hate to cry because each time, I worry that I won't ever stop.

So, that's how I'm doing.

test

I'm trying to figure out if this twitterfeed thing is working for my blog. It makes me a bit nervous (especially because of one of the subjects I've been needing to write about), but there's only one way to see if it works!

would you like some cheese with that whine?

Would it make me sound like a bad wife and mom to say I need to have a place of my own?

I am, by nature, an introverted human being. Being around people (even those I love) is so very draining for me. My husband the extravert needs to be around people and thrives on conversation and sound.

Every since we got married, I've struggled with having time and space of my own. When the kids were little, being with them involved constant togetherness. However, they had naptime and, even when that stopped, they went to bed early. In the evenings after the kids were in bed, home life settled down.

Back then, we didn't have the internet. My husband had the tv on all the time (which completely drove me nuts), but I could generally sit in the kitchen and read or work, and I could sit in the living room and do cross-stitch or read despite the sounds of the tv.

When we moved into the house before this one, we had an extra bedroom with an office. I could spend time in there and recharge myself--even while working. Because the house was a split level and we had the tv room downstairs, I could be cleaning up in the kitchen or puttering around in other rooms of the house in relative peace and quiet.

When we moved here, I lost the time and space for my own place. The bedroom was shared space. There were no extra bedrooms. The first-floor rooms are all small and close together, with entertainment technology all over the place.

Summer has always been a bit of a challenge because there's so much more togetherness with the kids. As they've gotten older, they stay up later, and I no longer have quiet time in the evenings. However, I've generally been able to find pockets of time throughout the day when I can take deep breaths and immerse myself in my self.

This summer has been very difficult. My unemployed husband is around ALL THE TIME. He has had very few interviews, so he never leaves for longer than a quick dash to the grocery store. He is not taking the time he now has to do anything productive around the house, like cleaning the back portch, organizing the junk in the basement, sorting through his closet, etc. He is not reading, writing, walking, etc. So what is he doing? When he's awake, he is in front of the tv (loud volume because of street noise and his middle-aged hearing) with the laptop in front of him. He wants me in the room with him, and because he gets sad and grouchy and depressed when I'm not there (remember, he's an extravert) and it's one thing I can do to be supportive.

But it's really wearing on me. I don't have a single place in my own home where I can sit and just read quietly, recharge my internal batteries, think, write, read, knit, or anything I want to do with quietness. The few days I've tried to spend on the back porch or in our bedroom I've felt like an outcast of sorts. I feel like there is no place for me in my home. The kids all have their own rooms. Doug doesn't want his own space. And when I spend the evening in another room (like, sitting at the kitchen table), he and the kids ask me what's wrong and why I'm avoiding them.

It's because constantly being with even the people I love is more than I can handle!

I don't even have a chair, with my own light, with a magazine or knitting basket next to it. Is it so much to ask to have just one place that can be mine?