I’m not even sure when it happened. It is more than the effects of social distancing through a global pandemic: I have lost my social butterfly. Small talk is nearly impossible, and borders on painful. I am consoled by the current state of not going out in public, of not socializing.
I miss my friends, I miss my family, I miss my people. I do not miss trying to build new relationships.
Once some time ago, I fell across the word ambivert and it made so much sense. I used to always look like an extrovert, even though I sometimes needed to isolate to recharge. But sometimes I recharged in the midst of a crowded event.
Not so much any more. I look forward to garden visitors in the future, of hosting more open houses, of celebrating our home and life with friends and family. Notice the lack of public events on that list? I sure do.
Is this a natural process in aging? My extrovert sister is still going strong, four years my senior.
There is a good likelihood that this newfound introversion is related to living with chronic conditions, with running out of spoons on a daily basis. But honestly? I should not expect to wake up one morning and find myself with all the spoons in the world.
This coronavirus pandemic has given me an extended experience I was never willing to give myself, a significant break from the exhaustion of a social life. I previously maintained it exactly because I hd always done so. As if I could manage it even short of spoons because it was familiar.
But now? It is a growing stranger. For nearly a year, my social experience has been mapping courses through grocery stores that avoid maskholes and exposed noses. Fair weather added garden visits of one or two. Add an occasional Zoom gathering with longterm friends or my immediate family.
As time passes, I see less need to return to the old normal, feel less drive to be the fernetic social spaz of my past.
Unlike other splinters, I don’t find myself missing this one so much. Amazed at how completely it has been removed perhaps, but not pinning for its return. I don’t see my previous extroversion as having been that productive. Or helpful.
As I examine it further, perhaps I was never an extrovert, but simply socially anxious: hyper, blathering, high-strung, overwhelming and intimidating. Or so I’ve been told on-going throughout my life.
Perhaps I was simply an ass. Why would I miss that?
quantum man 