I like people. I really do. I believe most people are good and have discovered that every life is interesting. Yet, I crave my solitude, welcome isolation, and am admittedly self-absorbed.
If I did not have to leave the house periodically, I could remain at home for days and weeks on end without ever feeling bored, lonely, confined, or trapped. There is always something to do: read a book, clean the house, go on the Internet, work on hobbies, or start a project. But is that really living?? I often worry that when I become bed-ridden with age, I will look back and wish I had visited with family more often, socialized with friends periodically, or even just ventured out into the world from time to time.
Still, I remind myself that my current life of seclusion is temporary. In August, I will be back in school as I start working on my master's degree in community counseling. I will once again be among people on a regular basis and perhaps then I will become more social.
I have often wondered when I became this way. As a child, I was quite able to entertain myself and could play solitarily. But, when friends would come looking for me, I was willing to put my imaginative world aside to be with others.
As a young mom, I craved socialization and went out of my way to find other young, stay-at-home moms. And, when I wasn't at workshops, mother's groups, or other mom-based gatherings, I was on the phone for endless hours with other mom-friends. Then, as I grew older, and my kids got older, I noticed that my circle of friends diminished. Phone calls became intrusive and I began to prefer solitude.
Still, on the rare occasions that I would visit with one of my few remaining close friends, I would find myself feeling so alive and I would revel in the sense of companionship and wonder why I avoided socialization to such a degree.
I like people. And, people generally like me. I can easily and comfortably get into engaging conversations with just about anybody. Most people who know me would never guess that I possess such deep preference for solitude. In fact, that preference is so deep and so profound that it has generated an anxious response to social commitments. I have become socially phobic to some degree.
I remember one incident that most poignantly illustrates my tendency to sequester myself. A few years ago, my 30th high school reunion was coming up, along with an informal reunion picnic for not just my classmates, but for the residents of the town where I grew up. I was so excited to hear about this because I had lost contact with school friends after dropping out of high school. I knew right a way however that while the high school reunion sounded like fun, I knew that my anxiety would keep me from going. I decided to attend the community reunion picnic - since most of my former classmates would be there too - and skip the class reunion all together.
I was really eager and excited about the picnic. The night before, I picked out the clothes I wanted to wear to the picnic and imagined how awesome it would be to see people that I hadn't seen since my teen years. I miss my hometown, am very nostalgic, and cherish my childhood memories.
The next morning, I got up, got in the shower, and got dressed. I looked good and felt good. But then the anxiety hit. I started to feel hesitant. I began to feel unsure about how much I would enjoy the reunion. I started to feel dread and anxiety. And I began to rationalize why I probably shouldn't go: I didn't really hang out with a whole crowd when I was a kid, but had a few close friends here and there, so what's the point of going. The people I'd like to see probably won't be there any way. Besides, look at how much weight I've gained; I don't want people to see me like this. And really, what have I accomplished with my life? I'll have nothing of value to share or talk about. Nah, the reunion picnic thing is really stupid. I'm gonna just stay home. And that's exactly what I did.
A day or two later, I saw pictures posted on Facebook of the picnic and heard everyone talking about how much fun they had - and I was sick with regret. WHY DIDN'T I GO???
Yeah, I like my reclusive, solitary life, but am glad that it has an end in sight. I really do love people, and so I need to spend more time outside these four walls, among other human beings. I cannot allow myself to have just a virtual life; I want a real, authentic life, but it is up to me to walk out that front door and create one.
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