Life As Performance Art 170

Living in a building full of people who have problems is not a cakewalk. This is why I tend to avoid everyone. Some simply do not have a filtre. They will talk endlessly at you if you are trapped with them in the elevator, just to make sure they have your full and undivided attention, or they will launch personal insults at you if you aren't doing exactly what they tell you. For example, the Duchess, as I call her, or the Queen of the Laundry Room. A real piece of work, who is in the laundry room at least three times a week, usually for as many hours, monopolizing all three washers and dryers. She also runs our local store, so she does have quite a sense of self-importance and entitlement around here. Quite a messy individual who talks in a low discontented mutter, and has all the tact of one of Hitler's generals. Thursday morning while waiting for the last two minutes that my clothes were in the dryer, I was seated on the folding counter, for me not a big deal. My clothes are always clean, I had put on my jeans clean that same morning, and I wipe my butt very carefully every day. So, no problems of cross contamination. But the Duchess has to have everything the way she wants it and if she doesn't like what you are doing she will tell you so, and will continue to mutter at you if you dare talk back. I had to shut her up, simply by telling her just that, to shut up. When she tried to order me to get off the counter, I simply countered that I would do whatever I want, she tried to remonstrate and I told her to mind her own business. When she called me a moody person (I am not moody), that was a bit low, so I simply said, "Is there any part of the words shut-up that you have trouble understanding?" And she did. We will likely not speak to each other again, which works for me because who needs to be living at close quarters with that? This kind of altercation has taken various forms with various other dysfunctional tenants and I simply stay away from everybody. I have noticed that like me the other high-functioning tenants all keep to themselves, and simply are getting on with their lives while staying away from other tenants, whom they likely find toxic. This doesn't exactly square with the ethos of the society that runs our building, since their emphasis is on building community. I don't know how carefully they have thought this out, but there are going to be people living in social housing buildings who simply are not able to do community. They will be usually too mentally ill or too socially dyslexic to be able to coexist well with their neighbours, and we their neighbours do want to protect our own mental health. This is why I avoid social events in my building. Even two nights ago, following my chat with the Duchess, I backed out of a film outing with other tenants. We were going to see a Swedish film in the Cinematheque, which is a five minute walk from our building. It was all paid for by our housing society, but after fighting with the Duchess I simply was not feeling like being social with other tenants, especially knowing that I would have to navigate other people's mood disorders and lack of good social skills during a time of day when I myself am often feeling tired and vulnerable and in need of rest and feeling emotionally safe. I also prefer seeing films alone, or with someone I feel safe around, because films often impact me emotionally, and then I have to sort through my vulnerability and visceral responses afterward. I cannot be social around people with whom I cannot feel emotionally safe, but I think that our current management is more aware and more accepting of this reality than some of their predecessors. Quite honestly, I can't even say that I feel totally safe around anyone, not even my closest friends. I am always on guard, always feeling a little bit wary, always concerned and wondering how the other person is feeling, what the other person is needing, how I can best help, or, should they want to snap at me or lash out, how best to avoid getting injured. I love people, I enjoy being with others, but this delicate dance of coping and self-preservation is often exhausting. No wonder I so often want to be alone. But I don't do this entirely out of self-preservation, Gentle Reader. I actually really care about these people, with a desire to be whatever help I can to them. Sad that this is almost never reciprocated but it's part of the package when you are a survivor of child abuse and neglect. You carry it with you to the grave, or to the crematorium. We are not going to expect to be valued by others, because we never really experienced that during our formative years, and the beat always goes on. All the attention and adulation is going to go to the smug charismatic narcissists whose families treated them like little gods and goddesses and then go through life conquering and to conquer. The rest of us get nothing.