I'm learning that we literally can't do without people.
"I'm an introvert" is a true statement, none truer has been made, but there are two faces of this introvert in me. There is one of me that genuinely rests in solitude and another one of me that clings to introversion as if interactions with people might rob me of my limited internal resources, bleed me dry, and even injure me somehow. There have been times when I've feared social events the same way you might fear a home invasion. As if once the people are in my space, I can't control how much they'll take from me; I'm at their mercy.
As you might imagine, one of these is healthy, and one is less so. The difference? The difference is the same as the difference between Solitude and Isolation. The difference between a proper self-care effort and a defense mechanism. One is consciously chosen before I'm feeling totally empty - a practice, a habit, a decision... and the other is a fight to cling to sanity far after the wall has been hit and the balances are in the red.
In this process of seeing these two faces, I'm learning that if I don't have both deliberate, all-in people time and specific, planned solitude, I'll resort naturally to isolation. Isolation is poison. It doesn't always feel lonely, so you can accidentally end up there for way too long. You fall asleep to your own humanity in isolation. I'll speak for myself - I fall asleep to my very humanity when I sink too far into isolation.
People... people are mirrors. I've heard this said in other ways before, but it didn't coalesce into a perspective on reality until recently. We are mirrors to each other. Many of us cannot see ourselves through our own eyes - we must see ourselves through the trusted eyes of those who see us. Actually see us.
Hear me, not everyone sees us. They aren't supposed to. Don't get stuck there.
But me, I can only see out from myself. I can introspect with the best of them, but I see it all as you might see a house you've always lived in - it's so familiar, you watched it all be built and accumulated, and you lose perspective on what it looks like as a complete picture, and all of its possibilities. You see where you've always stacked the mail, the way the living room has always been arranged, the colors you've always used... friends come over and say, "Wow, your house is beautiful!" and you say... it is? A decorator comes in and asks, "Have you ever thought about moving this over here?" and you say... is that even possible?
Am I?
Could I?
Wow, has that always been there?
In real empathy, those we love and trust see us and tell us who we are. And if we build into - lean into - that trust, we get a glimpse of ourselves for ourselves.
I'm not social, and that hasn't changed. That will never change. Truer words haven't been spoken: I am an introvert. But what that means is that I have to solitude on purpose, and I have to people on purpose, or I will isolate by default. And coming back from that takes more energy than would have been spent in reaching out to those who see me.
Comments
Post a Comment