Thoughts of a Cloistered Mind
Try as I might, I can’t seem to share the world with other people. I don’t seem to experience things with other people. I try to be present, but my thoughts and feelings constantly create a barrier between myself and the people around me.
Mostly, people just assume I’m “stuck-up” or “think I’m better than them”. I know this because people also accuse me of this in the most vicious tones they can muster when they believe I’ve slighted them.
I do recognize that I may seem aloof (by this, I mean emotionally detached and remote, exhibiting a blank face), but it’s not on purpose. It’s definitely not because I’m thinking I am “superior” or “too good”. On the contrary, it’s because I’m thinking I am not worth talking to and don’t even belong in the room.
I am generally uncomfortable in social settings, because I feel anxiety or a heightened fight/flight response. Realistically, I generally have such difficulty resisting the urge to run outside that I can’t even think of trying to socialize properly. It’s not easy for me to pretend to be comfortable while standing or sitting in a corner by myself. It’s also not easy for me to just walk up to people, insert myself into their personal space and pretend we are friends.
See, I usually don’t even think of speaking until someone speaks to me first. Ever. As a result, people assume I am judging or assessing or dismissing them. In reality, I don’t actually believe I have a right to initiate conversation with strangers. I don’t know how to explain it, but I am nearly incapable of walking up to a person and introducing myself for no reason.
The truth is, I don’t or can’t actually speak unless I have something to say. I don’t assume people want to talk to me just because they are in the vicinity. I certainly don’t assume it’s okay for me to interrupt their relaxation time by imagining they’d want to talk with me. I’ll smile at people, and if they meet my eyes or smile back I will say hello. Otherwise, though, I just walk past or stay silently in my silent bubble. I have no explanation for this. The strangest part is that I’m actually okay at maintaining one-to-one conversations, once started.
I don’t have any trouble talking to people once I know it’s okay to talk to them. I do have a difficult time talking to a table of people, especially at a bar or party-type gathering. I listen and add things I can add, but I don’t feel connected or like that is “fun”. It’s not pleasurable to me at all. It feels like homework – I have to do it because I am getting graded on it, not because I want to. I just have no idea what to talk about, because I don’t really know what I have in common with random people who already all know each other. So, I just feel like an outsider and excuse myself when I get a chance to.
That’s really it: I feel like an outsider, no matter where I go.
Recently, I’ve met people who are fine with me being kind of stoic. It’s amazing to me that they accept that I don’t talk much and don’t get mad about it. It’s surprising to me that they think it’s a-ok if I come back and talk about something we’d been talking about earlier, because they somehow also think it’s fine that it took me like 10 minutes or an hour or 4 days to think of something to say about it.
The truth is, I finally feel like I have some friends. I don’t have to pretend to be happy or carefree, and I don’t have to pretend to agree with them just so they’ll talk to me. I can’t really understand why they’re nice to me at all. I do know I feel grateful for it, but I really can’t understand it. (Which is why I have tears in my eyes as I type.)
I saw a picture the other day that really summed it up:
I’m the donkey in the room.
Thank you, friends.