Tuesday, 16 October 2012

The Overstayer by Amanda Pilbrow



























So I have this house guest that insists on dropping in unannounced, uninvited and at irregular times. Actually calling him a guest is being far to kind. He is intensely unwelcome and much more than just a ‘regular’ pain in the gluteus maximus. Not at all the kind you are pleased to see when opening the front door, standing there with ratty suitcase full, guilty tricks in hand, and with the full expectation of taking up residence for an undisclosed period of time.  Experience tells me he’ll stay anywhere from 24 hours to a week, or sometimes, sadly, longer. Once his foot is in the door, before I’ve had time to slam it shut, he’s pushed his way in and there’s not a lot I can do to dissuade him from staying. Believe me I’ve tried. I’ve tried ignoring him, yelling at him, being accommodating to him, I’ve asked others to talk to him and persuade him to be on his way, and yes I’ve tried to pray him away. But no, when he comes he intends to stay.  He is really a rather rude and formidable bully. He is as immoveable and offensive as the smell left on a shoe smeared with dog poo. Eventually it will go but until then… don’t sniff too deep.  Quite frankly no matter how many times I tell him “Now is not the best time”, “I’m too busy” or simply is “You’re not welcome”, he sneers his dirty vindictive smile at me, snubs his nose and gives me a look that that says “Tough #**t”.  So rude!

I’m learning to read the weather signs. I can get a foreboding sense, a ‘doom receptor’ if you like, that he might be on his way. My sixth sense kicks in and I know that he is likely to be just over the horizon, or closer, just around the corner and heading my way.  An irregular heartbeat escapes my chest just before it sinks into my stomach. Crap. Damn. Is he on his way?  So I’ll try to batten down the hatches, I’ll try to hide out of sight behind the couch, or under the bed covers wishing him to bypass me and simply move on the next sucker in his little black address book. I’ll try to remember to lock the front door but he usually catches me out and at times even manages to sneak in the back door while all my attention is focused on heading him off at the front door. Hate it when that happens… idiot! Me, not him.

Out of necessity I’ve given him a pet name, all be it rather a dramatic one… The Dark Cloud. Yeah I know, sounds like a character from Pokémon or Dragon Ball Z or worse, My Little Pony. But it’s the name that fits, and it’s stuck.

His time here drags like a stopped clock and I often can’t stop myself from falling into my default mode. Self-protection and preservation. I withdraw. Everything inside me reacts and my walls go up. Not surprising I guess, but also not ideal. I’ve learnt to keep my mouth shut when he’s around. He’s such an antagonist that everything inside me wants to spurt out negativity, accusations and bitching, not at my over stayer, though fully deserved, but at anyone else I come in contact with or to be brutally honest, those who love me best. It’s not their fault I didn’t manage to head him off at the pass but well really he doesn’t care if I verbalise my frustration at him, he’s not moving on till he moves on.

Should he decide it’s one of his longer stays, I’m a mess. My resolve is worn down. My energy drained. My skin grey. I feel like that unsuspecting water in the glass the teacher uses in sex ed. to show just how much a tampon can hold… sucked in and sucked dry. Oh God help me, not again.

Nothing gets done, not the basics and especially not the things I like to do and numbness invades the areas that would otherwise energise me. If the sun didn’t come up tomorrow, well, who cares? He’s such a kill joy. He’s such a leach. He’s such a #@%*.  He whispers in my ear at the most inopportune times … “Who do you think you are? You know you’re useless; you’re ineffective, irrelevant and just plain ugly all round”. And he’s so good at the whispers game, knows just how to throw me off balance, blindside me and knock my legs from under me and stupid me, I’m taken by surprise every time. He brings me to tears and offers no comfort or apology. There’s been times when he’s stayed so long and his words have cut me so deep that when I close my eyes I’m in a pit, a deep pit with oil up the sides and every time I try to climb out, to get a foot hold, I slide back down to the bottom. And he sniggers. Sigh. Heavy sigh.

You’ll be pleased to hear I’m getting better now at making his stays shorter when he comes. And lately he doesn’t come quite so often.  I’m learning. I can’t stop him from coming altogether but I’ve learnt that when he does show up I can make him feel uncomfortable enough to the point where he ‘wants’ to leave, all by himself. How? I make sure I rest, I be a little kinder to me, I allow myself to be quiet but not withdrawn, I take time to get outside and breathe deeply and soak in some Vit D, I take longer showers, I eat chocolate and liquorice accompanied by a good dark tipple, I drink less coffee(well not really), I’ll watch something that will make me laugh out loud like ‘Wipe Out’ or ‘Miranda’,  I’ll talk (cry sometimes) to God about how I’m feeling and how I hate this intruder in my home and that he makes me mad now rather than just sad. And God says “That’s good, I don’t like when he visits you either, let’s make him uncomfortable together.” I give those I love most the heads up that he’s coming (or arrived) so they too can make him uncomfortable. I know he will leave. I know how I react affects his resolve.

My aim is to make him think twice about knocking on my door at all. I don’t actually think that’s remotely possible but hey, it’s ok. Life without challenge would just be another shade of grey… predictable, without substance and lacking commitment.


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