I’m so sick of all the politics and bullshit of human interaction. I hate having to deal with bosses. I hate dealing with the rudeness of strangers. I hate the stress of final exams (as is happening this week and next). And, most of all, I hate romantic rejection (as happened yesterday). It is unquestionably the source of almost all the anxiety in my life. Has anyone managed to successfully become a recluse? How did you like it?
I suppose I’d have to work from home, and I’d still have to go to the doctor/dentist/grocery shopping. Oh, yeah, also I’d still want to continue bicycling and weightlifting. Oh, yeah, and depending on how far I wanted to take it I would probably keep my existing friends and stay in touch with family. (a rather dubious definition of “recluse”?)
Actually, it sounds to me that what I really want is just to work from home :dubious:, but let’s hear your comments and stories.
I’ve become pretty good at it. My great weakness is my need for residual self-respect. That requires I remain clean, presentable, relatively sober, and at least not bitch too vociferously about the steady diet of weapons-grade bullshit that is most people’s ticket to a little dignity in this life.
This is harder than you might think. I’m convinced that it’s an unstable position, requiring constant negotiation and renegotiation, unless you’re willing to go totally off the grid and surround yourself with filth, junk, and sick cats.
Does Bill Watterson count as a recluse? Basically he went to a small town and kept low profile. He probably had to fend people off a bit, but otherwise he seems to have successfully melted into relative obscurity.
The thing is, to be a really successful recluse you have to strike it rich first, so you can afford to withdraw from the world and make it stick. As an author, JD Salinger would probably come close to the ideal, because he would have to put on a huge public persona before withdrawing, but I’m sure even he had to pay some public dues before buried himself.
Howard Hughes? Did he become a recluse, or merely insane? Tough question.
Ya know, if you inherit a ton of money, you could be a lifelong recluse with no problem.
I’m a recluse in the OP sense of the word. Work from home, kept my existing friends/family, still go grocery shopping, bicycle, lift weights (in my house. I bought a weight set so I don’t have to go to the gym). I’m amazingly happy in my home, and don’t need a lot of socializing, so am semi-reclusive. Recluse light?
Of course, I’m married, so Mr. Athena is knocking around the house as well. He and the dogs provide any social needs I may have.
I highly recommend it. Dealing with people is a pain in the ass; being semi-reclusive means that almost all interacting can be done via email or phone. I get left alone to work - annoying coworkers can’t just come waltzing in to show me their kid’s pictures or yammer about their cousin’s husband’s friend’s new car. My office is set up the way I like it, and nobody yells at me if I want my dog on my lap while I work.
Occasionally, Mr. Athena wants some attention, so I have to break my busy reclusive day up to talk to him, but that’s the tradeoff for being married I guess.
I’ve got a leg in both camps at the moment. I live and work in a buzzing metropolis for 3 days per week, and the other 4 are spent working from home on a farm with nothing to distract me but the odd kangaroo jumping past my window.
I like the latter better. People give me the shits, especially coworkers and company drones. Give me some work to do, no commuting, and some autonomy over how I allocate my time and I’ll give you commitment and KPI’s. Give me the shits, and you’ll get nought.
It’s not really reclusive because I’m in coo-ee of all the mod cons of moderns society on the farm…there’s a supermarket and a hardware store and even a pub or four. But it’s an effort to get there, and not one that I make willingly all that often.
Key Performance Indicators? Do you develop dashboards out there with the kangaroos? Just asking…
Dick Proenneke (you’ll know that name if you’re a PBS watcher) claimed not to be a recluse – or at least, the talking heads on the PBS pledge drives claim he wasn’t. But what else do you call a guy who lives all alone way up in the north and who sees just a few people per year? Recluse has a negative connotation, and Proenneke did seem to be an advanturer more than a recluse. In the end, I think he was just a guy who wanted to be left alone to eat his pancakes in peace out in the woods.
Have to agree with Boyo Jim – make your pile, then become a recluse. It would be great to just drift aimlessly through the world for a few years, living light and interacting only when the mood truly struck, instead of the forced interaction of the daily grind.
He was an elder member of a farming family, who built himself (with his own hands) a house that was built into the side of a hill in Oro-Medonte Township (a farming and forested area north of the city of Barrie in Ontario).
His relations would deliver wood and food to his door. Otherwise, he kept to himself totally.
I don’t think he is still alive though. We drive by his house (just visible from the road) and I haven’t seen any smoke from the chimney for the last decade or so; I don’t really know his family, and in any event the local gossip is silent on the subject - it is like he never existed.
Bingo. This is exactly what I want, although replace husband with wife and lift weights in a real gym.
More thought on this subject makes me realize that it’s more the crap of the corporate work world that I hate, and that there’s not so much need to withdraw from the other social aspects of life.
And all this when I had actually had a good boss at a good company! I don’t even want to imagine what it’s like to work for an asshole in a crappy company.
I’m with you there. I worked in traditional jobs for many years, and even when I liked my coworkers/boss (which was rare), I hated just being there, in an office. It was semi-OK during the times I had an office with a window and a door I could close at times. Cubes pretty much make me want to kill myself.
To put things in perspective about just how much I hate the idea of working in an office - I was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes a few months ago, and have been freaking out over it. Overall, diabetes is not that huge of a deal - it’s a hassle but totally controllable, but I still find myself getting down over it at times. During one particularly frustrating bout, Mr. Athena was trying to cheer me up, but all the normal things weren’t working. He finally said “Would you rather have diabetes, or have to go to work at an office and sit in a cubicle every day?”
Hands down, the diabetes was the winner. Give me a chronic disease over a cubicle and asshole coworkers any day.
