First, I must say, I'm having a hard time focusing. My coffee maker died yesterday and I haven't had a chance to replace it. I feel as if I have an open wound on my body, a deep, gaping chasm in my psyche which can only be filled by Mr. Coffee or one of his companions. Which leads me to meat of my post:
I have to leave my house today and go shopping. I hate leaving my house. I'm becoming a hermit. I've always had these tendencies anyway. I was an only child and I enjoyed my solitude. But I find as I get older and more focused on writing and other things, the less I want to leave my haven. No, I'm not agoraphobic, I don't being out, I just resent the time it takes me from my home. I force myself to do extra stuff because I do fear I will become too comfortable in my solitude.
Is it the writer in me which is more at ease with the world in my head rather than the one at large? Perhaps I like my home because it is the one place I have the most control. I have a whole wide world at my fingertips when I sit down at my computer. It's usually more interesting than the one outside. I crave my alone time. Of course, it also may be because it is the one thing I cannot have.
If you are beholden to care for another be it child, parent or pet, you know that feeling of having your time dictated to some extent by another. The more dependents you have, the more you crave your own time.
Whether it is a case of me wanting to be a recluse or being childish and craving my solitude like a kids craving candy, I'm not sure.
I do know that the grass is always greener. When I worked full-time, I'd watch the stay at home moms with their kids going to Target or wherever and I was green with envy. Now when I go to Target and see the moms stopping by on their lunch hour, I'm green with envy. Perhaps all I'm feeling is the very human trait of never being satisfied. I suppose if we were easily pleased, we would have nothing to work for.
Writers, Kelly has an interesting post on POV & deep POV.