So here’s a confession. Most people won’t know this about me because I’m really fucking good at hiding it.
I’m an introvert.
Sort of.
I’m one of those extroverted introverts.
I put on a really good show of being able to socially interact and am damn near stand up comedian material, but when I’m done — I am DONE with peopling.
OVER THEM.
Because people suck me dry. Even good people. People I love. All people. Humanity is like one giant emotional parasite to women, and its doubled down if you’re a mother, tripled down if you’re a nurse.
And that shit is exhausting.
I need down time. Peace. Quiet. Vast amounts of empty. Aloneness. Or I will lose my mind and my shit. I will be grumpy and miserable and unhappy.
I know this about myself. I do not apologize for it. I enjoy living alone, having my own space, and especially the lack of noise or obligation to interact with others that entails.
Solitude is my go to place. I am a Lone Wolf forced into social interactions by a world that revolves around pairs and packs.
You can ask any child I birthed or friend I have — I do not bother them. I allow them to reach out to me. I am always happy to hear from them, but I do not intrude upon them unless I actually have something to share. My children can track my life via Facebook and know I’m still alive, so all good.
Not all humans are built like me, I understand that. Many people thrive on human interaction and contact. I can do that for a while, but now, especially as I’ve gotten older, I’ve found I need respite from all that. Just me and The Universe.
If I don’t get it, I’m the worst version of myself — and then I become physically ill. I know how this dance works. I’ve done it too many times in the past when self care wasn’t a high enough priority.
So along with eating right, practicing yoga , and meditating— I’m also going to give myself the gift of silence. Because its here in those quiet moments — I hear The Universe speak to me.
Namaste.
