As a kid I spent a lot of time alone. I loved hanging out in my room reading a book, making up stories or poems, or working on a project in my doll house. (Like, not acting out familial scenarios with dolls; more like building closets, painting, and reorganizing things.)
Huh. I'm noticing I haven't changed much.
It took me a long time to recognize that when I would blow up 'for no reason' it was almost always after a long stretch of intense interaction with others and no time to myself.
It's not deemed as socially acceptable for women to want their own space. Man caves get a lot of attention, but you don't hear all that much about a woman's space.
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I realize my office really is my inner sanctum. It became obvious when Michael retired. Especially since the room I work in also serves as a walkway between the upstairs rooms. I no longer had the mid-week-Michael's-at-work time guaranteed to myself.
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Today Michael was looking for something in the guest room (formerly his office) across the hall from my desk. I could see him moving around the room and occasionally hear him sighing heavily.
I finally asked: "What's wrong?"
He was annoyed I asked. I was annoyed he was in my space.
We'd just exchanged pleasant words and a hug down in the kitchen when we were both taking a break, but suddenly Michael morphed from my favorite person in the universe...to the irritation keeping me from stringing two thoughts together.
It reaffirmed the value of his office over the garage. We're lucky to be able to have the two separate spaces. It's very good for our relationship.
My office is definitely my 'woman cave'. It's not very dark and cavelike decor-wise, but for sure I become a violent Neanderthal when I'm defending it from intruders.
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