What it's like being me

It's hard to explain what goes on inside our heads. We can talk all day long, but if those we talk to have no experience with the weirdness that's so familiar to us, then it's no use.

I have struggled most of my life with what I perceive as normal and my inability to be normal (but I insist normal does not exist). Around the age of 30, I decided it was a fruitless endeavor and nearly impossible to change my core personality or ensconced behaviors. 

Years ago, I read a book about the power of being an introvert. It made sense, and it even stated that most people in this world are introverts (about 60 percent), but most will not self-identify as introverts. The trouble with being an introvert is we are often undervalued, especially in American culture, where the extrovert rules. And an introvert in America looks very different from an introvert in, say, the United Kingdom. That's the influence of culture. 

Every personality type has things that exhaust and things that fill them up. As an introvert, people exhaust me. I used to have a customer service job where I waited on people all day long, every day, no matter how I felt or how well I slept (and did that for 16-plus years). Some nights I slept a couple of hours; some nights I slept zero hours. But I had to show up and greet people and get them what they needed just as if I woke up feeling like a million bucks. That's exhausting for an introvert, and doubly exhausting for an overtired introvert. But we do what we have to do. 

The great thing about being an introvert is it doesn't take much to get us fueled up again. We just need some time alone. It doesn't have to be a whole lot of time, even. Our strength returns and blooms in that alone time and space. My culture says it's bad to spend time with yourself because that's sad. Not for me. That's where I gain my strength. That's where I organize my thoughts and recoup and make plans to assault the world again. 

Our culture is all about stimulation, though. It's safe to say we're overstimulated. That's another thing I used to do all day long, every day. Until I couldn't. That's when things got bad. I would simply shut down, like a car driving on the highway and its engine decides to quit. The dangers of going, going, going, and then stopping like that are obvious. Somebody's gonna get hurt.

I remember sometimes driving around after I got off work because I knew there were people at my place. Was that rude? Well, they weren't there to see me, so no. I just needed some time to recoup before being bombarded by people again. As time went on, I began to schedule alone time so I didn't have the engine-dying-oh-shit-I'm-going-to-crash thing happening at random times. That was smart. And that was accepting myself and my limitations. 

So, on the weeks when I have my son, I'm minding my energy levels closely. My son is a classic extrovert. He loves people in all shapes and sizes. That's what fills his tank. Being by himself is terrifying. But extroverts take energy and ideas from other people. That's how they function. They aren't nearly as creative as introverts, but their social skills allow them to take what introverts offer and package it and sell it (often as their own). That may be a little sad, but that's how the world works. Some give and some take. Introverts tend to produce. Extroverts tend to take. 

Anyway, I have to keep a close eye on my energy. Not just my physical energy, but all of it. I know my son exhausts me. I know interacting with people exhausts me (though, strangely enough, not all people; some even energize me). At my age, honesty is what it comes down to. I know I'm not good at certain things. But I'm fabulous at some things. When I figure out what I'm good at, I'll let you know. (One of those things might be long-winded blog posts.)

Look at what I'm doing right now. I'm writing. It's a solitary activity. But I don't feel alone. I don't feel lonely. I feel perfectly fine and tuned in. There are other things I could be doing, but I choose to do this. Why? Why does an extrovert like going to parties and talking to people they don't know? Just cuz. 

Yes, I know there are shades of introversion. Most people say they are a mixture of introvert and extrovert. But, if they were to take a personality test, it would place them squarely on one side or the other. That's the culture thing I was talking about. We like to believe we're a little more extroverted than we are. But our social anxiety tells us otherwise. If we continue to act like an extrovert, our anxiety levels rise. Something is wrong, but we can't figure out what. Yes, we can fake it. Introverts are smart, usually a lot smarter than extroverts. So we can pull off the charade and make you think we're more extroverted than we are. That's a matter of being socialized. The higher the level of socialization we have, the more we can fool you.

There's more. My childhood experiences triggered me to react to people in a more radical way than even most introverts. There were times when I completely retracted. My ex could not figure out why I would put up the wall with her. Yes, I was exhausted, but she was my supposed friend. She was a safe space. Only she wasn't. She added to my misery. It's was a continuation of traumatization and retraumatization, which is a storyline that can end any time now. What my divorce offered me was peace and quiet, something I have not had for decades. That peace and quiet have accelerated my healing, my therapy, and my journey of faith like I never imagined. That's been the most satisfying part of my divorce.

Too often, instead of being rewarded for stepping outside of myself in a healthy way, I was repeatedly punished, not just during my childhood, but also beyond! And all of that led to more introversion. For a last-born (who are traditionally the life of the party) kid to be so introverted, that's saying something. That's saying something went wrong. But if I was punished for any amount of extroversion, then it makes sense I wouldn't allow those behaviors. To this day, I equate extroversion with being throttled by my brothers. And I hesitate to open up to a woman because of the backlog of hurt I experienced in my marriage. It's not like I want to keep everything inside; I just found it much safer to do so. I'd much rather share my thoughts and feelings in a safe, healthy way in all of my relationships. But I can't. 

A funny thing (at least to me), is, and I don't know if it's my OCD or what, but I often rehearse how I interact with people in common situations. It's odd, though, because sometimes I'm completely natural and unrehearsed and sometimes I'm very rigid and methodical. All I know is the less I think about it, the better off I am. Sometimes the brain just can't stop, which is a typical introvert problem. But I digress.

Lastly, there's this theory about physical healing. I'm not sure where I heard it. But, let's say it applies to psychological/emotional/spiritual healing, as well. The theory says if you allow yourself enough time and therapy, in order to heal properly, your body has to go back to the original injury, slowly over time, and heal wound by wound until it can heal the present wound, which is probably what got you in therapy in the first place (for me, this was my divorce). Otherwise, all healing is incomplete. It's that first unaddressed wound that needs to heal first. Or something like that. Anyway, that's where it feels like I am with God and my overall healing. He's going back over my life and tending to wounds that didn't heal properly (some I even forgot about!), taking off the bandages (which is a messy and painful thing at times), and re-dressing my wounds, and for the last time. And you know what? I've never felt so safe as I have through this process. It truly feels like I'm witnessing a miracle. 

I can't wait to see what happens next. 

Thanks for reading.