on the limits of even extreme extroversion
Yesterday I had a glimpse into what I suspect my more introverted friends experience all the time. (And, well, pretty much everyone I know with *maybe* one or two exceptions is more introverted than me.) I never got it before, because I had never experienced it. I don't like being alone unless I am very involved in a project that needs concentration. I find it depressing even when I am in a good mood and my life is being really happy right then. I understood most people needed time and space and quiet away from people, and it was clear to me that was a real and important need. I had never experienced it, not even when I had a baby practically grafted onto my breast and an older child who wanted my constant attention. I have certainly experienced wanting quiet and time to concentrate on something I was working on. I frequently experienced frustration when I really wanted to have a private conversation with someone that kept getting interrupted. I have wanted silence to commune with trees and woods and whatever is beyond, which is the closest I had come to this, but silent people I trusted near me was always fine. It wasn't about being away from people; it was about listening really hard to something beyond people. Needing to be away from *people* (as opposed to needing everyone to leave me alone so I could focus) was not something I think I had ever experienced.
Until yesterday.
The day before yesterday I had an entire day from early morning until way way into the night of extremely intense interaction with several different people in several very different ways.
And then yesterday I was in this deep quiet thinky space, where being alone was tranquil and comfortable and *necessary*. It didn't last that long. By the time it was time to get my kids from school I was very ready to be in the world of people again. But it showed me a glimpse of what most of the people I love best experience on a regular basis and *why* they need that time alone.
Until yesterday.
The day before yesterday I had an entire day from early morning until way way into the night of extremely intense interaction with several different people in several very different ways.
And then yesterday I was in this deep quiet thinky space, where being alone was tranquil and comfortable and *necessary*. It didn't last that long. By the time it was time to get my kids from school I was very ready to be in the world of people again. But it showed me a glimpse of what most of the people I love best experience on a regular basis and *why* they need that time alone.