The Dark Side of Summer: Overnight Houseguests

Content/trigger warning: highly personal, contains mention of abuse

Filed under: tell me you're an introvert without telling me you're an introvert

Tis the season for Prom, Weddings, and the horror of overnight house guests.

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(Yes, I said Horror.)

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When I first saw this meme a few years ago, I'd never felt so seen in my life!

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Something about my flavor of neurospiciness tells my brain that outsiders in my safe space are a threat.

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Maybe it's because growing up, stability was an exception not the rule.

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Perhaps it is that, at nearly 40, I still mask and perform without even realizing it.

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Accommodating, entertaining, anticipating and meeting the needs of others -

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That shit is exhausting!

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Then there's the run-up before the visit, and the dreaded comedown after. A long weekend can turn into weeks of disruption.

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The older I get the harder it is to bounce back from being forced into a modified routine. My home is my sanctuary, but when others enter it (by invitation or otherwise) it sets me back big time.

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Friends, family, strangers: my brain doesn't know the difference.

They're all too much.

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Which is weird because up until my mid-late 20s, I loved hosting house parties and waking up the next morning to friends and acquaintances on my couch, on the floor. In pajamas making coffee in my kitchen.

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That was a different time.

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I run a small business now. It's also my Dream Job.

My schedule and routines have changed.

My new 9-to-5 is going to bed at 9 and waking up at 5.?

All my (emotional, intellectual, physical) property lives here. This is maybe the only place I feel fully myself, unguarded, safe.

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And this issue runs deep.

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See, much of the abuse I suffered as a child took away my privacy, autonomy.

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Something as simple as using the bathroom: there were times I wasn't allowed to close the door and if I insisted on doing so, my abuser timed me. They tried to control my every move. That meant "home" was a mercurial place where relaxing was impossible and I could never really be myself.

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Enter: lifelong hypervigilance.

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Today, I am a first-generation homeowner.

These four walls are my sanctuary, and I am extremely protective of it.

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With only one bathroom and very little square footage, I often feel trapped when others are present in this space. Like I can't catch a full breath because someone else has already sucked out the good air.

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A counselor recently told me, "Some things are just going to be," and then they asked if I'd considered finding a bigger house.

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(Is it really that simple?)

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My take is that I worked hard AF to earn my independence. And the thought of anything resembling "obligation" to endure discomfort for the sake of others, in my private space, shakes me to the core.

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But I don't live alone anymore, so this is not the kind of executive decision I can make on my own. That means potential compromise, concession, defeat.

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Then there is the internal monologue of 20 questions, the guilt and shame spiral.

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Is it really that big of a deal?

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Won't people take this personally?

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How can you explain this without hurting others' feelings in the process?

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Why am I even sharing this?

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It is not to solicit advice or sympathy (please don't comment along those lines), but rather to show that being human is tough sometimes. Challenging in ways we might not see coming. Silly, subtle, extra spicy ways.

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But it is also to help me recognize and check my own privilege, as I type:

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Not everyone has a safe place to call Home.

Not everyone has people in their life who want to spend time with them.

Not everyone has access to privacy, let alone mental health resources.

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I'm grateful for all that I have.

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And I know that perfection doesn't exist.

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I also know when you want something, you should ask for it, and you must be specific.

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So, my ask today is for your empathy.

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If there is even one person out there who feels the same way about overnight houseguests, wave a flag.

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And may that metaphorical flag be a giant banner that says, "Please leave by 9."

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Cover image description: A meme-style graphic featuring a simply appointed kitchen with snacks and drinks spread about the countertop; there are vases of cut flowers and a festive banner that reads, "Please leave by 9" hangs from the soffit. Text on the graphic reads, "when someone asks me to decorate for the party, I'm like..."