One of the reasons I wanted to start a blog was to be able to spill my guts, fairly anonymously, about anything and everything on my mind. But I haven’t gotten into any really meaty topics. Yet.
This is going to be a little heavy for me. I tend to keep my most personal cards very VERY close and these would be some of those cards. ‘Bout to come out. Lordy, hep meh!
I’ve always felt like I was on the outside of life looking in. Feeling excluded sometimes. Surrounded by people and life and things. But alone. It shocks many who know me when I tell them that I am really an introvert but have learned how to be an extrovert. I also have little shame and will talk about almost anything, which is an odd combination for an introvert.
I think it might have started with growing up in a house with too many things. It was always such a mess that I was too embarrassed to have many friends over. I mean, I reeaally had to know you well enough to let that cat out of the bag. I don’t remember ever having playdates growing up, although the house wasn’t always a wreck so I don’t see why I wouldn’t have had them. But life changes and things happen, and so the house became a mess. Who wants to expose that you live like that and be judged by things over which you have no control? Needless to say, I didn’t have many close friends growing up because I didn’t know who I could trust with that skeleton. I felt like I had to keep people at a distance. The problem with that is I probably didn’t learn how to nurture friendships properly.
Facebook has been such an eye-opening experience. Little glimpses into the lives of others. I’m sure that most of the time, most put on their best virtual face for the world, just like in real life. But even with that grain of salt, it has allowed me to see how differently I am wired and exactly how my life differs from that of others.
It’s my nature to be more analytical. When someone posts on Facebook that something bad happened, my first thought is a very quiet and quick, “Oh no!” but next, “What happened?” comes loudly and more quickly on its heels. I would guess that decades of behaving like that probably doesn’t give people the warm fuzzies.
But I like being helpful and doing things for people for whom I consider friends. I think it’s my odd way of reaching out, to make some kind of emotional connection with another human being. It works. Sort of. I still seem to keep people at arm’s length, though, and I wish I didn’t.
Maybe I’m too sensitive about the loss of those close friendships in my past that ended for one reason or another, and thus I have built a wall to hide behind, making it even harder to make close friendships the older I get. Being able to talk about almost anything and having little shame is perhaps a diversionary tactic. If I’m letting it all hang out, the other person is less likely to even have the opportunity to get close to the real me. I used a similar tactic when pregnant because I didn’t really want relative strangers touching my belly out of the blue and without permission. So I took to baring it to everyone. Because then, baring my nakedness was on my terms.
I guess I just don’t like feeling vulnerable. Emotionally bare. Like the dream where you suddenly realize you’re in a room full of people, and you are the only one who is completely naked. Of course, that’s exactly what I’ve done in writing this post. Doh!
Since I don’t like that I’m introverted and distant and guarded, now I have to figure out how to fix this about myself. Woah boy. This should be FUN. 😉