I quite like being an introvert. I’ve spent innumerable blissful hours thinking up characters, stories, relationships, characters’ motivations, and settings. I’ve spent other blissful hours researching for stories—history, housing prices, locations, schools, television, you name it—all alone with headphones on.
But being introverted has its challenges, as I’m sure all you fellow introverts know. One big challenge is socializing.
Yes, I said the word. I’ll say it again: Socializing. (Shudder)
How many times did I hear that word, or something implying it, growing up? “Go out with your friends.” “Go socialize.” “Go out and have fun!”
Yeah, I’d go out if it was fun. It’s not.
This hasn’t been a huge issue for me until recently. Suddenly it seems to be shoving itself in my face. I don’t want to go out anywhere. I don’t. I don’t want to be around people, except perhaps a few friends and my family, and even then only certain people at certain times.
Everyone just seems draining. So cheery and constantly doing things—so energetic. The feeling is like the way I’ve felt all my life being around large crowds of people, only now it’s on steroids and applies in almost any situation.
It gives me a reason to really be a hermit, which isn’t bad. But it’s also terrible. Because I have to go out and do stuff. What’s more, I think (and that’s a very unsure ‘I think’) I might actually want to have relationships with people beyond texting and the occasional phone call.
I can meet a friend for lunch still; that doesn’t kill me. But anything much more than that—either more than one person, or more than lunch—and something in me takes a step back and I instinctively say, “Hm, maybe not.”
I thought I wanted to try to get closer to some friends. If I do, then I’m going to have to suck it up and socialize, right?
No. In all honesty, each and every time I weigh the pros and cons, I hesitantly conclude that, even if it’s only 55%-45%, the pain of socializing outweighs any benefits of socializing.
I like individuals. I just don’t like people. I don’t mean any offense by that, either. Some part of me longs for a close, committed relationship (that I don’t already have). But another (possibly bigger) part of me never wants to leave the house.
And staying in the house doesn’t make me unhappy in the slightest. But every so often, I wonder if I’m possibly missing something.
I’m not tired all the time, certainly not; but it seems I get tired rather easily. And any major interaction with people sucks the energy right out of me, like a syringe drawing blood. Sorry for that awful image.
So I’m torn. I write about all kinds of relationships, and part of me really wants to have some close relationships. But in order to even have the opportunity to get close to people, I have to meet them. Unless a person wants to come to my house or lets me come to theirs, and we don’t do much except talk and watch TV, I’m not sure the effort is worth the long time it would take to get close to that person.
If anyone has this problem, I would appreciate any thoughts on how to deal with it. And even if you don’t know what the heck to do about it—I certainly don’t—I’d like you to know you’re not alone, not at all. Even introverts need to know that.