Week of 11 June, 2012
This week I have been feeling lonely. Really, really lonely. That heart aching, tears just held back, tears
streaming, wracking sobs in the shower lonely.*
So I decided to tell you a secret
related to this. A secret about one big
reason why I began writing – which I have really only just teased out by
writing this piece.
Fact 1: This is not a
secret. I am an extrovert – in the
Myers Briggs sense of the word. I like being around people. I like talking to people. I get energy from being around people.
Fact 2: I spend a
lot – I mean A LOT- of time on my own.
I don’t have an office to go into, nor at the moment even any colleagues. I am friendly with many people here, but my circle of go-to friends is still very small. This means I spend large swaths of time on my
own. *
Fact 3: Get ready
for the secret. In the absence of other
people, I do a lot – and again, I mean A LOT - of talking to myself (not out
loud, mind you, at least not yet).
Talking about what I am seeing, what I am feeling, thinking, planning. And although I find myself endlessly
fascinating (smile), it’s ultimately not very fulfilling for an extrovert
like me.
So I write. You might have noticed, I almost always write as if I’m talking to someone (always you). It's like having half a conversation. When I post a piece, I feel an enormous sense of release, like a big exhalation. That sense of release lasts for about half an hour until the anticipation begins. I hold my breath, waiting for responses, waiting for the second half of the conversation. With each response, I exhale a bit and feel a happy little surge of pleasure. It is the nothing-like-it pleasure of being connected. My extrovert self likes that, needs that. My human self likes that, needs that.
In an odd turn-about, being on my own made me start writing as a way to connect. Now that I am writing, I am craving more and more time on my own so I can write more. Weird how life works.
So I write. You might have noticed, I almost always write as if I’m talking to someone (always you). It's like having half a conversation. When I post a piece, I feel an enormous sense of release, like a big exhalation. That sense of release lasts for about half an hour until the anticipation begins. I hold my breath, waiting for responses, waiting for the second half of the conversation. With each response, I exhale a bit and feel a happy little surge of pleasure. It is the nothing-like-it pleasure of being connected. My extrovert self likes that, needs that. My human self likes that, needs that.
In an odd turn-about, being on my own made me start writing as a way to connect. Now that I am writing, I am craving more and more time on my own so I can write more. Weird how life works.
* Please, please,
please do not interpret this as a plea for play date and coffee invites. Most of the time, I estimate about 68% - and that percentage is going up, I am quite content to be on my own. The other 32% of the time, when I am lonely, craving connection, it is okay.
Really. I tell Quince all the
time it is okay to be sad. Humans are
meant to have the full range. After all, how boring would life be if you only
experienced happy?
You know, Caroline, I think in addition to writing (which you are very good at!!!) you should try exploring the world of talking to yourself more. I am an introvert (acc to Myers Briggs, so not for me) but Niki (my partner) talks to himself all the time. Out loud. And in public. He has full on conversations: asks questions and responds, makes jokes and then laughs at them, tells himself stories... the works! At first I thought this was a little strange. Then I tried to engage in his solo conversations. He thought that was strange and would have none of it (he is usually wearing headphones when these conversations are going on). Then I decided to just take it as it is and enjoy the entertainment value. After all, there are stranger things out there. In fact, there is a man who has been walking up and down my street, rubbing his head since this morning...
ReplyDeleteGood Morning, dear daughter--from a pretty total introvert to a some-percentage extrovert....but also one who talks endlessly to herself and thoroughly enjoys it...and one who sometimes inexplicably feels that wave of sadness knock me down, usually connected with feeling inadequate or only very occasionally (and inaccurately) abandoned. But of course we are all inadequate and ultimately alone...and so we eventually plunge under that wave and come up on the other side sputtering but exhilarated (if I am remembering accurately the sensation of emerging from diving under waves).Suzanne on the phone (she is leaving today) mentioned how she loves your blogs and is going to try one on her own when she gets to Sweden. Of course she, like her grandmother also known as your mother, feels inadequate in comparison with her aunt/my daughter. (Just as this "Comment" is inadequate--but it comes with love)
ReplyDelete