"Tell me this, Heather. Do you not like being around people?" my friend asked recently. And I had to tell her, yes, it's true. At my core I just don't like being around people. This is entirely unrelated to my opinions of or feelings for people. It's not you, it's me.
The conversation started when my friend noted that I share intimate information with my online friends but moan and groan when talking about offline relationships. What is it that draws me into the world of online friendships? Oh, the beauty of it! Always on my timeline, at my convenience, at my whim, only when I'm in the mood. That's for starters.
No small talk. There's no need for the lingering entry and lingering exits that are so important to most people in offline life. In the last few months I tried an experiment and stopped pretending. I pretty much stopped participating in what I consider a pointless exercise: the small talk and the lengthy greetings and farewells. In my opinion these are social conventions based on "because that's what we do," rather than activities that serve legitimate functions. It's a bit like how I described to Maya why she ought to wear something over her tights. "It's not that they are underwear, but people just see them and think of them as something you wear under things so they'd feel like they were seeing your underwear. It's silly, it doesn't make sense, they're just like leggings, but still, it's how it is."
Trouble is, my opinion isn't typical. In this experiment I know I've been alienating people. Whether I'm puzzling them or offending them, I'm not sure. Though with one friend in particular I haven't just tried to avoid the usual pleasantries, I've been downright crabby and rude because I want to be left alone. That's a different matter.
For those people where I've just either launched right into "what we're here to talk about," or dropped off my child to the class and not hung around chatting about the...what do we chat about? the weather? yes... groaaaaan. Again, I'm not sure what they are thinking about my atypical experience. I do know I get vibes from some who clearly think I'm being rude or weird. Anti-social, perhaps. And, that's me! I am against social!
But why, you may wonder? What is so wrong about enjoying some light banter about the weather, or about how great our children are, or what project you've been working on lately? There is absolutely nothing wrong with it. And, when I'm willing to play that game, I'm good at it. Sometimes a bit awkward, though those around me seem to think I'm no where near as awkward as I perceive myself. I've got decent social skills when I choose to use them.
Here's the problem. It is exhausting. Talking to anyone, especially on any surface level, wipes me out. Some people go running for miles and think they feel tired. Put me in a group of people all talking about even interesting topics and it's like I'm running a marathon but I'm already at the point where my nipples are bleeding from the friction against my shirt.
I described it as "playing that game." I realize it's not a game. I do understand that for what seems like most people, it's part of the pleasure of communication. Most people, it appears, enjoy ramping up for a while before getting to the deep down and direct content. Or, they never really want to get there anyway. Being pleasant together pleases them. I like those people. I like nice people, and that behavior is nice. I get that. I see how my "I don't like being with people" can come across as rude, insulting, perhaps even mentally unhealthy. But it's not any of those things.
My brain works in concert with my gut/soul/spirit/heart/whateveryouwanttocallit. Everything is loosey goosey and flowing. My internal experience is like oil paints or acrylic paints or oil pastels. Mushy and smushy and blending all around. For me, the polite conversations considered normal and healthy are like a manual typewriter. Don't get me wrong, I love those things, but I can't use them effectively, ever. Each. Key. Must. Be. Hit. At. The. Right. Time. Or. The. Details. Will. Not. Come. Together. To. Make. The. Larger. Picture.
It's as if there are shooting stars all around that I'm supposed to try and catch like a dog leaping for a treat, but the stars are shooting too fast and all at once like fireworks sparkles. I need something to contain them.
This quality of mine has its upsides. In a group, I'll be the first typically to say, "Sounds like we all agree on xyz, shall we do that?" Or, "Sounds like no one's really sure what to do, why don't we get in touch with each other later?" Anything. Anything to end the PECK. STAB. JAB. of the group wanderings and ponderings. Problem is, lately, I don't wait long enough for the assumed correct level of polite conversation to happen. That is, I jump into the decision before the people who process things differently have had a chance to do their thing. This comes across, I know, as abrupt, and definitely sometimes rude.
Honestly, even writing about being with people makes me tired. The juggling. The consideration of my body language, their body language, their facial expressions in relation to their words, all of it. Everything is like a bad acid trip (I've never had a bad one, but the good ones were seriously freaky and I'm sure a bad one would be quite a bit like my experience of being sociable.) With too much stimulation and too many senses working at once and the whole sensorial experience causes me to wish the earth would open in a great chasm and just suck us all down and put us out of our misery. But, really, it's only my misery. Most people, it seems, are either unaffected or positively affected by communicating with others.
Unfortunately, this exhaustion-from-people even holds true for having one-on-one conversations with good and close friends. I love one-on-one conversations. Those times I get myself to actually keep a coffee date with a friend, I'm always glad I did. Talking with my offline friends is an enriching experience. Connecting with these women (and Josh) does enhance my life. Knowing what's going on with them, how they are, how what we are going through is interconnected. All those things are good. I need those things.
But, please, not very often. Because, you see, even spending time with my friends who I love, I get wiped out. Tired. Overstimulated. I want to hole up in a quiet room, alone, with my computer to write or with a book if I've got time to fall asleep.
Getting along in this world I realized just this week will require my reaching out to people a bit more than I have been. I'm going to have to suck it up and put on my game face for pickups and drop offs as our children have their school and other activities. Making myself available for pleasant conversations is a requirement if I want to help my daughters learn to have healthy and happy social lives. So be it. As I mentioned, it's not that I don't like these folks. It's just that I've got the unpopular quality of simply not liking to be around other people. I'll go back to hiding that fact a bit better than I have been for the sake of the family. But, you'll read about it here and elsewhere online just how much I can't stand it. And as soon as the social hours are over, as soon as I'll hurt no one's feelings and can get away, you'll find me alone. Writing, futzing around online, making art, reading, and resting. Breathing freely again. Alone.
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Friday, September 25, 2009
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6 comments:
Jayziz, I could have written this. Or no, but given you the idea and had you write it. Seriously, I'm much the same way.
I might have my wife read it so she sees I'm not the only one.
It's had a bad effect on my career. I hate meetings, especially large ones. A major reason is all the time wasted discussing trivial matters and making endless repetitions. I've found that when the big decision finally comes, it's pretty much what I was thinking forty five minutes ago. Oftentimes I've said my bit, one of many opinions under consideration, only to find the final assessment that the natural leaders came up with echoed mine, only my input is not remembered. So I have a quiet reputation. And have completely quit caring about corporate success. I guess that's good for the younger guys: Less competition.
Anyway, the other downside is I don't have much in the way of real (i.e. offline) friends I can count on. I have absolutely not quit caring about that.
I'll sum all that shit up as "weather chat," though it could be about kids, crap you did over the weekend, movies seen, food eaten, any of that boring surface yuckadoo (these topics do not have to stay on the surface, of course, and when they don't they can be interesting, but that's not what we mean here -- we're talking skimmage, not delving deep into the cultural implications of eating burgers with the neighbors on the Fourth of July) ... the reason I find it tiresome is because it's work, actual work, as in "this is what I have to do at the office" kind of work. I have to make this sort of chitchat at the office. Have to. So, it goes with all the other things I have to do at the office to get a paycheck, such as answer a ringing phone, make copies, send faxes, put labels on boxes, apologize for things that aren't my fault, etc. Obviously, I DO NOT WANT to do any of those things during my non-work time and will mightily resist doing them, LOL. This is why if you call my cell, you will most likely get my voicemail, and if you call my landline, I will never pick up. :) I'll call you when I feel the fuck like it, nyah! I have one neighbor whose "friendship" mostly consists of commenting about the weather, and I will reciprocate, but very briefly. He's a nice guy and just doesn't have much to say, so I'm not going to be rude, but ... it just isn't my thing to care a whole lot about the weather beyond the idea of (1) is it more likely to trigger a migraine, or (2) not?
Last weekend I had lunch with a friend and we probably did do some weather chat here and there, but I didn't mind that, probably didn't even notice at the time, because it was all mixed in with other interesting conversation. That's fine. But I don't want to stand around at a gathering of parents or office peeps or even extended family and have to yap about surface stuff only for an extended period of time. That will seriously make me nuts. Sometimes I crab about working in a small office because there's no one to go to lunch with, but the bright side is that it limits the amount of weather chat in which I must engage.
We're not quite the same, but there's a lot in there that resonates.
I once read somewhere that one of the basic differences between introverts and extroverts is in how they renew their energies. Introverts do it alone (erm...), whereas extroverts do it in company (um...). In that respect, I'm an introvert to a tee - I can have a wonderful day out with friends I've known for twenty years and enjoy every minute of it, or go to a party and have fun (Though that horrible breaking-the-ice phase is always excruciating, and I always wonder if I'm not Doing The Small Talk Well Enough because I find it challenging. I suspect, too, that there is a self-confidence issue - I tend to fret a little about whether I'm being interesting/entertaining/interested enough, so am always having meta-thoughts about the conversation.), but I'll still be frazzled by the end and need to spend time alone in my own head in order to recharge. It's not that I don't enjoy being around people, it's that it takes up so much mental energy - work, really - to be sociable that however much I've enjoyed myself I need corresponding quiet time to recuperate and rebalance the mental equilibrium.
I don't like all that weather talk either (does anyone?), and sure, it's a drag talking to people you have very little in common with, but I like the possibility that I might meet someone who has something interesting to say. So, I guess I'm not an introvert. Although, I can be painfully shy, but you won't know that because I simply won't speak until I'm absolutely ready and then you can't shut me up. That could sometimes take several years. So I guess I go into most things a bit apprehensive, and also hope I'm pleasantly surprised. I believe in the whole social animals thing; I need to talk to people. I spent the first ten years of my life as an only child (and the next several years keeping to myself anyway), and while I like my time and space to talk to myself (and I really really do), I need people in equal measure. I love people. They make me laugh, even the ones I don't think I like much. I'm always amazed about the cool stuff I learn from people. Also, to smile and say hi to someone gets me the hell out of my own head, which is important. Being with people reminds me I'm taking care of myself. Even if I don't always feel ecstatically happy about it.
I mean, sure, the small talk is dull, but so is waiting in the emergency room, but when I need to do that, I do. No one likes it, but I also think it's part of the social contract that it's just as important to do some stuff to ease the awkwardness of others. So if some folks want to talk about the weather, okay, I can do it for a bit and then excuse myself. Of course, my "small talk" tends to be a bit like open mike night. And it's a good way to measure whether I have things in common with someone to see how they respond. A vetting, if you will.
I realized only a couple of months ago that I no longer care how weird and quirky people think I am when I say something completely stream of consciousness, which is something I used to get teased about as a kid. When I see people I immediately launch into whatever I think is funny or worthy of comment--sure, people sometimes need a minute to figure out where we are, conversationally, but they get over it. And they know me better, because I'm being myself.
Sometimes it's work, but I'd be one depressed woman if I didn't just accept that some days it will be fun and other times it won't, and head out to see which kind of day it's going to be. The fact is, conversation is flirting for me, in its truest sense, like the kind of thing babies do. Not sexy flirting, but drawing people in, seeking a smile and laugh--not because I need you to think I'm funny, but because I love the sound of laughter. It's the way I play. Always has been.
Oh, and I'd much prefer having this conversation in person. Every time see Heather's launched some new idea, I half pretend we're all sitting in the same room with our feet on the coffee table, passing the snacks. You lose that essential rhythm of a discussion when you have to wait for people to log on. I like interruptions and the digression that happen when it's not all lined up in chronological order. It often pisses me off a bit that I don't know you in person. And I feel shy when I jump in on the thread, because I feel ike an interloper, but I cope with the blush, because you folks seem like fun. So I deal with this frankly inferior method.
Lookit all the words and words from people who say "I don't like talking."
Same here. Me, too. And the writing lots of stuff thing, too.
'k.
Hi, Heather! You and I are sisters under the skins. Your thought are familiar to me. A couple of things:
1. Having struggled with what you are struggling with, I finally understood (Myers-Briggs typing is a good way to do this) that I'm almost a total introvert. We are this way.
2. I call myself UNsocial as opposed to ANTIsocial. It's the difference between being UNmusical and ANTImusical. I actually LOVE people, but--and here we drag out that classic definition of the introvert--they drain my batteries. Extroverts actually get their batteries CHARGED by being with people. Introverts may love people, but they are wrung out by too much exposure.
3. I read once that we all have a ratio of people:solitude. Some people can be with people 24/7 and only need the occasional hour to replenish themselves. Other people (us) need about 12 hours of solitude to make up for every hour with others.
4. My body actually rebels--after a day with people, I end up either sleeping or being worthless, productivity-wise, for the next day or two. I have to always count the day following an outing as a lost day. This isn't just "giving up" or indulging myself. It's the fruit of long experience.
5. I might wish I were different, although mostly it's other people (who, charmingly, would like more of my time) who feel I "should" get out more. I'd like to, I really would. If I were two people, one of them would certainly go here or there. But I'm only one, and if I hope to meet my own personal and professional goals, I have to dole out my "people time" in very stingy doses.
Anything in that make sense in your circumstances? Love, R.
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