the guarded
by rantywoman
After many years of observation and experience, I’ve come to the conclusion that the only way to succeed in a job like mine is to be cool and reserved. Sometimes I’ve been lucky enough to find an ally at work with whom I can share gallows humor, but the higher I go, the more difficult that becomes. Instead I spend a good portion of my energy at work trying to suppress my personality, thoughts, and emotions, even while handling one impossible situation after another. When I slip and let my personality through, I often feel like I’ve made a mistake.
It’s only when I come home from work, shut the door, and am alone that it feels safe to let my hair down. Although I try to retain some openness to “meeting someone,” I can no longer imagine throwing myself into the brutality of the dating market on top of dealing with this job. If it happens, it will have to be serendipitous. Same with friendships. Children have finally come to represent additional conflict and stress at a time in my life when I crave less of those things.
Last weekend I spent almost an entire day at home reading through a stack of brilliant books, and I was delirious with happiness. Few things make me as happy anymore.
Some people may lose heart with trying for connection after their first brush with loss or disappointment; others bounce back time after time. I think I’ve finally reached my personal tipping point. I’m making peace with the idea that the coming years will be about building the nest egg that will allow me to retire to a frugal and solitary but free life filled with good books and, possibly, a dog.
Soon I will do the thing I vowed not to do in that I will sit down with paper, pen, and my various financial statements to figure out when that day might come. It will probably take at least eight years, maybe more. I will continue to schedule in points of light in my calendar, but underneath it all I will be moving steadily toward that goal.
thebitterbabe 
Love this.
I wonder if you have ever connected privately with readers of this blog whether in person or just through email. One thing I’ve noticed with this blog that I think I’ve mentioned before is there is no contact email address listed, like most blogs, even anonymous ones, have. I see this blog and the interaction you get here as one possible source of friendship, even if it’s just an email correspondence friendship. And I wonder if maybe in your day to day life you present similarly to others and it’s equally difficult for people to reach out to you and express interest or start a conversation. Obviously in “real life” I’m sure you can be contacted and I don’t mean things are literally the same as on the blog, but I just wonder if your lack of interest in dealing with some of the trials of relationships and meeting people (whether friends or otherwise) is closing you off to good possibilities that maybe you would actually enjoy having in your life. Anyway, maybe there’s no one here you’d actually want to hear from directly, in which case it’s best to not have an email posted, but it just made me wonder if you come across similarly in other aspects of your life. I don’t say this to criticize and maybe my point is without merit, I don’t know.
I’ve given my email to people and have had some correspondence.
I feel I have some in internal walls up for sure, although people still approach me, so hard to say? I think it’s fair to say thought that my experiences this past year and the accumulation of other experiences have led me to feel closed off, although I respond to invitations, etc.
Thanks for replying to this. You are always so even keeled in your replies and the least defensive person in all the internet! That’s great that you have had some personal correspondence with some people. I’m sure there are plenty of reasons for you to have your guard up but hopefully not up so high that you may miss out on some interaction that you’d actually enjoy or would be supportive to you. If your work requires you to be distant then I’m sure it’s even harder to switch that off in regular life. I have maybe the opposite problem and could use a bit of a stronger guard myself. Although like you I do enjoy my alone time too.
I’ve had the problem in the past of not having my guard up enough… it’s hard to get it right!
One thing about my current job, which is repeated in all the literature about it, is that it’s a lonely position, full of ego-bruising and the need to have a poker face. So the walls are a job requirement as well.
The understated life of bookish spinsterism is supremely undervalued in today’s society. You really need to go to literature to find them.
One of my favourite spinsters from literature is Hester Prynne, who became known in her community for her as one who spent a lot of time quietly helping others:
It was perceived, too, that, while Hester never put forward even the humblest title to share in the world’s privileges,—farther than to breathe the common air, and earn daily bread for little Pearl and herself by the faithful labor of her hands,—she was quick to acknowledge her sisterhood with the race of man, whenever benefits were to be conferred. None so ready as she to give of her little substance to every demand of poverty; even though the bitter-hearted pauper threw back a gibe in requital of the food brought regularly to his door, or the garments wrought for him by the fingers that could have embroidered a monarch’s robe. None so self-devoted as Hester, when pestilence stalked through the town. In all seasons of calamity, indeed, whether general or of individuals, the outcast of society at once found her place. She came, not as a guest, but as a rightful inmate, into the household that was darkened by trouble; as if its gloomy twilight were a medium in which she was entitled to hold intercourse with her fellow-creatures. There glimmered the embroidered letter, with comfort in its unearthly ray. Elsewhere the token of sin, it was the taper of the sick-chamber. It had even thrown its gleam, in the sufferer’s hard extremity, across the verge of time. It had shown him where to set his foot, while the light of earth was fast becoming dim, and ere the light of futurity could reach him. In such emergencies, Hester’s nature showed itself warm and rich; a well-spring of human tenderness, unfailing to every real demand, and inexhaustible by the largest. Her breast, with its badge of shame, was but the softer pillow for the head that needed one. She was self-ordained a Sister of Mercy; or, we may rather say, the world’s heavy hand had so ordained her, when neither the world nor she looked forward to this result. The letter was the symbol of her calling. Such helpfulness was found in her,—so much power to do, and power to sympathize,—that many people refused to interpret the scarlet A by its original signification. They said that it meant Able; so strong was Hester Prynne, with a woman’s strength.
Ranty, I think that’s a great plan and I’m planning to do just the same.