Tortoise over Achilles; "Good on ya, mate"; Introversion Revisited
I don't process information effectively - and by 'effectively' I mean 'efficiently'. There is so much I want to compress, express, analyze, and only so much energy. That energy is sapped when I think of the daunting tasks I set myself. I'm beaten before I start. Baby steps, little tasks, small legs of the journey. Self, be the tortoise you can be and just start walking; stop indugling in being Achilles, who has to hurdle the mountain in one bound or not at all. Climb slowly up, stone by stone, meadow by meadow, snowfield by snowfield, false-peak by false-peak. There'll be time for leaping once I reach the summit.
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Several days ago I went to an after-party/reception thing for the wedding of a family friend. She married a Kiwi. Actually, both of them went to Burning Man this year - I did manage to figure out where they were going to be and meet up with them. The groom's aunt was at the reception, sitting alone at one point. I was passing by to get food, but allowed myself to get pulled into conversation. It was pleasant but mundane - mundane being a pleasure I need to indulge in more. So much to be said on that topic, but not here. Anyway, when I told her about my post-school plans (or lack thereof) she said, "Good on ya." I miss that phrase. For some reason I really like it, and the phrase had come unbidden (there was probably some root seed but I can't think of it) to my mind recently. It was nice to have it made concrete in the world beyond my mind. The words people use are so interesting, really.
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I generally think of myself as introverted. I have gotten more sociable and able to put myself out and interact, but I'm still pretty inward looking and fearful of people. I joke that, "I hate people." and some of it is that the mass of People seem to be so dumb sometimes. However, most of it is that they just terrify me; the thought of having to negotiate among strangers and familiar strangers (for most people ultimately are really strangers) and say the right things and give the right impression . . . nay, not really even about doing or saying the right thing as not doing the wrong thing. I'm a frightened little puppy, really. Anyway, I once heard a definition of introversion/extroversion that really intrigued me. According to this theory, you are extroverted if you are recharged by social interaction, gain energy by spending time with others. Conversely, if you gain energy by being alone, solitary, you're introverted. I liked the idea and thought it very applicable to me.
Recently I've realized even more that I'm recharged by being alone. Not just being alone, but being free from any specific obligation: down time, free time. I don't relax until I feel I don't have to do anything. Social interaction drains me. I often love it (when I can get over the dread; although I don't dread all social interaction), but it drains me. Sometimes I am drained by the fear of such interaction, even before it happens.
That is much of why the summer has been so tiring for me. I was beat by the end of camp, and still running on empty going into Burning Man. I'm still only just getting the batteries recharged despite some good recharge time.
This is not entirely true, overall. I think some social interaction can charge me, sometimes. But I think it tends to be abstract ideas, fantasizing about the future, solitude in nature, sunsets, walks, being frantically productive but without a deadline, lazy days as a hermit that really make me able to face the rest of the world.
Being with Not-Jailbait over the summer has been wonderful in so many ways. I have never been as close to someone, never spending so much time (even though we didn't get to see much of each other during the day) consistently with someone. It was great. But it was also draining. I have difficulty relaxing with someone - fear of doing something wrong (In my fear of errors of commission, I of course commit errors of omission.), unfamiliarity of relaxing with someone. Its a perfectionism thing, a fear thing, a caution thing. I'm not entirely sure. It's unknown territory and so difficult to explore without a patient partner. Which she was - I grew a lot. It just was hard.
One thing that was making me notice this since being home is that I'll often be alone in the house for a long time, and then my mother will come home from an errand or something. I'll hear the door open or otherwise notice that she's there and dread coming into her company. In the past there have been reasons why I dreaded spending time with my mother - I was afraid she'd ask questions I didn't want to answer, or ask me to do things. But these days I just didn't want to have to interrupt my productive and comfortable prowling around the house with somebody else's presence; I didn't want to feel obliged to stop and talk, obliged to interact. That requires energy on my part. It was sort of painful to realize that I still dreaded my mother's presence at times even though I had no external reason for it, but also sort of nice to realize it has nothing to do with her. It isn't a bit problem, thankfully.
---
Several days ago I went to an after-party/reception thing for the wedding of a family friend. She married a Kiwi. Actually, both of them went to Burning Man this year - I did manage to figure out where they were going to be and meet up with them. The groom's aunt was at the reception, sitting alone at one point. I was passing by to get food, but allowed myself to get pulled into conversation. It was pleasant but mundane - mundane being a pleasure I need to indulge in more. So much to be said on that topic, but not here. Anyway, when I told her about my post-school plans (or lack thereof) she said, "Good on ya." I miss that phrase. For some reason I really like it, and the phrase had come unbidden (there was probably some root seed but I can't think of it) to my mind recently. It was nice to have it made concrete in the world beyond my mind. The words people use are so interesting, really.
---
I generally think of myself as introverted. I have gotten more sociable and able to put myself out and interact, but I'm still pretty inward looking and fearful of people. I joke that, "I hate people." and some of it is that the mass of People seem to be so dumb sometimes. However, most of it is that they just terrify me; the thought of having to negotiate among strangers and familiar strangers (for most people ultimately are really strangers) and say the right things and give the right impression . . . nay, not really even about doing or saying the right thing as not doing the wrong thing. I'm a frightened little puppy, really. Anyway, I once heard a definition of introversion/extroversion that really intrigued me. According to this theory, you are extroverted if you are recharged by social interaction, gain energy by spending time with others. Conversely, if you gain energy by being alone, solitary, you're introverted. I liked the idea and thought it very applicable to me.
Recently I've realized even more that I'm recharged by being alone. Not just being alone, but being free from any specific obligation: down time, free time. I don't relax until I feel I don't have to do anything. Social interaction drains me. I often love it (when I can get over the dread; although I don't dread all social interaction), but it drains me. Sometimes I am drained by the fear of such interaction, even before it happens.
That is much of why the summer has been so tiring for me. I was beat by the end of camp, and still running on empty going into Burning Man. I'm still only just getting the batteries recharged despite some good recharge time.
This is not entirely true, overall. I think some social interaction can charge me, sometimes. But I think it tends to be abstract ideas, fantasizing about the future, solitude in nature, sunsets, walks, being frantically productive but without a deadline, lazy days as a hermit that really make me able to face the rest of the world.
Being with Not-Jailbait over the summer has been wonderful in so many ways. I have never been as close to someone, never spending so much time (even though we didn't get to see much of each other during the day) consistently with someone. It was great. But it was also draining. I have difficulty relaxing with someone - fear of doing something wrong (In my fear of errors of commission, I of course commit errors of omission.), unfamiliarity of relaxing with someone. Its a perfectionism thing, a fear thing, a caution thing. I'm not entirely sure. It's unknown territory and so difficult to explore without a patient partner. Which she was - I grew a lot. It just was hard.
One thing that was making me notice this since being home is that I'll often be alone in the house for a long time, and then my mother will come home from an errand or something. I'll hear the door open or otherwise notice that she's there and dread coming into her company. In the past there have been reasons why I dreaded spending time with my mother - I was afraid she'd ask questions I didn't want to answer, or ask me to do things. But these days I just didn't want to have to interrupt my productive and comfortable prowling around the house with somebody else's presence; I didn't want to feel obliged to stop and talk, obliged to interact. That requires energy on my part. It was sort of painful to realize that I still dreaded my mother's presence at times even though I had no external reason for it, but also sort of nice to realize it has nothing to do with her. It isn't a bit problem, thankfully.