Anyone else hate people in their space?

Post Reply New Topic

I notice men don't invade my space. If they want to get something, they either wait a few minutes until I move out of the way (because I'm not one to stand there taking all day to choose something), or they just quickly nip in front of my and say confidentally, ''excuse me, can I just grab this?'' and then move away again. But it's other women that get on my nerves. They push through me all the time. They creep up behind me, then except me to get out of their way, and old women gently put their hand on my shoulder or waist and say, ''excuse me'' in my ear and it makes me jump so much that I feel like getting angry. Being touched doesn't usually bother me, but strangers tounching me like that gets on my tits.

In shops what have racks in the middle of the shop with clothes and stuff hanging on, women normally push past me even if they could go round the little rack thing to get to the other side of me, rather than passing behind me and making me having to step out of the way when I'm trying to look. Men actually go round the other way, but it's too much trouble for women to do it, so they'd rather push past me.

And people say only Aspies are rude?

@Joe90: I know what you mean about shopping. I think that perhaps as Aspies we don't give off the right body language that says, "Don't come too close." I've found the same thing, where people act almost as if I'm not even there.

Yeah, I don't like people in my space, or in my stuff: "DON'T TOUCH MY STUFF!! !" I tend to be fairly neat & organized, not perfect, but the way things are has meaning to me that others won't understand. Even worse than touching my stuff is moving it! Don't move things or rearrange things, please!There's a reason my desk and shelves are arranged the way they are. Everything in my life has meaning to me.

How do I prevent people from getting in my way?

I can't stand people in my apartment. If my landlord has to come in to do something I want to know exactly when and exactly what.

Yeah, I am like that, kind of, but used to be much worse. I had no choice but to get over it though, once I got married and had three kids.

I've adjusted, but still need certain things of mine left the hell alone. As long as I can find my wallet, keys, coffee mug, coffee, the coffee machine, and several other items I use all the time, I'm happy now.

WHERE THE HELL IS THE #@!DAMNED TV REMOTE NOW??! !

Watching people mess with my stuff is like watching children play with a nuclear weapon.

I don't even like people playing with my molecule kit in chemistry class. Although oddly enough, I'm fine with my lab partner grabbing whatever from my drawers.

I'm honestly scared to get married. I don't know what I'll do then. I guess though at this point, getting used to the idea of sharing space is pointless only because I'd actually have to go on a date first and yeah, that's not happening. Sigh.

Hmm, yes. xD Maybe I should have said something more along the lines of "like having scorpions in my pants."

I think that most people don't like it when their personal space is violated . I personally place a very high value on my privacy, and I do tend to get a rather frustrated when it is violated.

Now the scorpion in your pants I totally understand! And agree with.

I like having people around, actually, but I do hate having my personal space bubble invaded in a lot of instances. If it's someone I know well and am comfortable with, and there's a REASON, then I'm okay. But if someone stands really near me or keeps bumping into me when there's plenty of space for them to stand away from me, I get really irritated.

In my room, I don't mind people touching and using my things as long as I'm aware they're going to do it. If someone's already in my room and, for example, grabs a notebook from my shelf and tells me they're going to write in it, I'm perfectly fine with it. If someone grabs the same notebook from my shelf and just starts writing in it without saying anything, I feel like my space has definitely been invaded.

It's not so much that I want to be asked permission as I need to know a person's intent, or I get confused and a little pissed off.

I hate people coming around, particularly if it's unplanned. Classic example my dad lives 300 miles away, one easter he phoned me up to see what we were up to that day, I said not much, we chatted for 10 minutes and then we said our goodbyes. 4 hours later he turns up at my house with gifts for my little girl and then we sat around awkwardly for a couple of hours before he announced he was staying over, which annoyed me a lot. I hated him disrupting our routine, normally we sit and play video games or watch movies at night but when he was here we had to sit and make small talk (which I'm rubbish at, I'm a one word answer person). It annoyed me having to fit everything around him and although I wouldn't openly say and was all smiles for him what I really wanted to do was to tell him to just leave.

It was the same when both my parents and my niece came to visit for my daughter's birthday party, it was all planned but it irked me that they arrived an hour late and didn't follow my carefully thought out plan of action as to how the party would be setup, who would do what jobs, what order the kids would be sat in, how the games would be played etc. Afterwards my parents stayed in a hotel but my niece stayed with us and again it annoyed me having her here, as much as I love my family I don't like not being able to relax in my home and do things the way we normally do them.

Oh my goodness, I'm going through that hell right now. There's a guy who's supposed to come and fix my bathroom ceiling. He was supposed to come almost an hour ago, didn't come. I called twenty minutes ago, turns out he forgot. I made the appointment a few weeks ago. I made the appointment for today, since he doesn't work weekends, and I'm not available most week days. This is the first week day I've had off in a month. They say they're sending someone right now, don't know what right now means, especially as that was twenty minutes ago so right now was a total lie. I called my Mom to tell her about the situation, and how I can't tolerate this level of anxiety on my own. She told me it's not her problem, it's my problem, and I need to suck it up and deal with it. She told me she has anxiety, too (which is true) and no one ever helped her deal, she just had to suck it up, and I have to do likewise. She told me I have to grow up, and learn to deal with these things on my own. I explained that the anxiety is agonizing, and would she asked someone in a wheelchair to get up and walk? She told me I was being overdramatic. I told her that visible, or invisible, a disability is a disability, and an invisible disablility is no less debilitating. She told e I still need to learn to do this on my own, this is not her problem, and she doesn't want to hear about it. I sarcastically thanked her for her support and hung up on her.
The guy showed up while I was writing that last paragraph, said it looks really bad, told me he was going to get something and would be back in five minutes (more than 5 minutes ago I might add) and to clear everything out. Gaahhhh, don't know when this nightmare will end. The anxiety is so strong, it just might kill me. I don't know why he's not back yet. People don't understand how difficult this is for us.

I came home from school yesterday and people were in my room. Then I noticed they went into my closet (which had the door shut, an obvious way to say don't go in here...) and I'm pissed. I was anxious all day yesterday because of it and had a hard time learning at school. Makes me mad.

Yikes.... that's brutal. I thought I had a rough morning today when the guys came late, and the job that I was told should take half an hour took two hours. Those were a really long two hours, listening to the sound of them banging, and breaking stuff in my bathroom, knowing with dread and certainty that they were touching *my* stuff. I was supposed to call the Super to let him know the job was finished. I didn't do it. By the time the men left, I had beyond had it. I'll have to call next week. Apparently, the super wants to get painters in to paint over the new plaster. I get to have my personal space violated yet again. *shudder* It doesn't end. Still I have to do it. I can put it off a few days, but not indefinitely. I've been told by my therapist that if my super believes I'm not keeping up my apartment, he could decide make my life (more) difficult. I wouldn't have called about the broken ceiling, but the super saw it. There was an emergency where they had to come into my apartment to work on my toilet, as it was apparently leaking sewage into the apartment below mine. When I wouldn't take time off work to receive the men, or take their calls when the super called me during work hours, they threatened to call the police to come in to break my lock. I never miss a day of work, and I never show up late or leave early. I wasn't about to start because of that. I wound up calling my Mom from work (she has keys to my apartment) and asking her to go to my place to receive the men. It was an emergency, so she agreed, and endured a hellish afternoon while they worked on repairing my toilet. That's why she was so irritable with me when I called today. I complained this morning, but I can't really blame her. The limits of her patience and tolerance had been exceeded.
In any case, the super was horrified when he saw my disintegrating ceiling. According to my Mom, he kept on saying, "She didn't call me." I didn't want to call to get the ceiling fixed. I was perfectly willing to live with my disintegrating ceiling, as I preferred that to dealing with having strangers in my home. Still, I didn't want to get myself evicted, so I figured that I had to call to get it repaired. There are things that are in a state of disrepair in other parts of my apartment, but I'm letting everything else slide, as long as the super doesn't know. I'll put up with a great deal of inconvenience to avoid dealing with people. I lived with a big chunk missing from my ceiling for nearly a year. I don't even like having friends in my home, much less strangers. I don't like *anyone* touching my things. I don't mind my parents coming there, as they've known me my whole life, so they've seen me at my best and worst. However, I don't want anyone else there.
I have serious problems with executive function and organization, to the point that it's pretty much impossible for me to clean and organize my own apartment. That's another reason why I don't want anyone seeing the inside of my apartment. When I explained to my Mom why I let my apartment become such an out of control mess, she suggested, I hire a cleaning lady. *shudder* The idea of a stranger going through my things, touching my stuff is pretty much the most horrifying thing I can imagine. The fact that I couldn't afford a cleaning lady anyway is completely beside the point.
Right now, my home is quite messy, but not as scary as it has been at times in the past. The worst of the clutter is hidden in my closet, three feet high. Those closets are *strictly* off limits. No one opens those doors, except me.
Why were people in your room, anyway? I'm sorry they looked in your closet. That would pretty much be my worst nightmare. I'd get a lock put on my closets, but I'm useless with tools , so I'd need to have someone come in to do that. @@ Thus, it's not happening. Ah, well.

Last edited by OuterBoroughGirl on 12 Nov 2011, 11:12 am, edited 2 times in total.