It’s 2021, and the joy of hermit crabbing has finally worn off. I actually miss other humans, and for a deep and truly introverted person, that’s quite startling. I miss them so much, in fact, that this year, I am committed to being a different kind of introvert.
Back in March, all the introverts of the world secretly jigged to their happy dance. I’m not talking about the pseudo-introverts—you know who you are—I’m talking about the purists who absolutely revel in alone time.
The pandemic presented a truly unique situation for all my fellow antisocialists. Suddenly it became acceptable — admirable, in fact — to turn down hangouts. No more anxiety over whether to tell your friends you want to stay in or the dread that comes with saying yes to plans. Goodbye to anxiety induced by hordes of people in the bar, farewell to the pressure of keeping the conversation going, and see ya later to coming home hours later than you wanted. You were home for good.
Oh, how the tables have turned. Staying in became the responsible thing to do. Instead of fake excuses, I said, “Sorry, I’m the extra-safe friend. I can’t make it.” This was the best Halloween and New Year’s Eve to date, because I got hammered in the comfort of my own cozy home with no pressure to do something cool. I wasn’t guilty or even semi-disappointed for not having made “special holiday memories.”
For the first time, I missed humans and craved more interaction, not less.
Something a lot of extroverts don’t understand is that being an introvert is complicated. A mini war rages on inside us between the regret of not putting effort into your friendships and wanting to be a loner for the rest of your days.
Yes, you have friends (only a few) as an introvert, and you love them, but it’s rare that you experience a social event without it being nerve-racking. You have a nice time hanging out but come home exhausted, completely drained. The following day, you need extra quiet time to recharge for all the awkward office conversations next week.
But to my utter surprise, something quite interesting happened for this recluse during the pandemic, at least lately. As the Covid-19 tides turned from “we’ll get through this’’ to “this is the new way of life for the foreseeable future, folks,” things slowly started to change for me.
For the first time, I missed humans and craved more interaction, not less.
Uh, perspective perhaps?
A few months in, the luster of massive amounts of alone time actually wore off.
Regret over allowing my anxiety to hold me back from so many experiences in the past started to set in.
Like a lot of us, I started to get depressed. Though not out of the ordinary for me, this time the root of it was different. (The nightly half bottles of wine probably didn’t help.) It wasn’t just mundanity and cabin fever. I realized I missed connecting, laughing, and simply being around others. Sorry to get all Hallmark.
What was the deal? It’s like I woke up realizing that my friendships meant more to me than I’d previously understood. True loneliness, which I only experienced because of the pandemic, evokes deep feelings of sadness and meaninglessness.
Regret over allowing my anxiety to hold me back from so many experiences in the past started to set in. I decided I needed to soul search (ew, puke). Why did I have so much anxiety from socialization? What was I missing out on? How can I change?
Fear will run your life if you let it, and this is what happened to me. My anxiety often became bigger than myself. I was under the assumption that this was who I was, but it became clear that it was more of an unmanaged disorder than my true self. My journey of adulting officially began — mental health style.
I started Zoom therapy, journaled, and dug deep to get to the root of some of my issues. And I even tried herb supplements—not sure I am ready for hard meds just yet.
No, I will never be an extrovert and don’t want to be. Alone time will still be necessary, but from this experience, I value my friends more. I see now that they give me a sense of connectedness and fun times, even if they are nerve-racking, and a small group of people I can share laughs and purposeful conversations with.
There will come a time when friends and people will be absolutely necessary for my survival, and I don’t want to wake up like Mr. Scrooge with a lifetime of regret weighing on my shoulders. So, like all you social humans, I too can’t wait for life to get back to normal and to hug and hang out in crowded places again. Maybe no Outside Lands 2021 for me, but I will reach out to people more, stop avoiding everyone, and create and maintain more meaningful friendships.
No matter how much exercise or meditation I do, anxiety will always be a part of me. It will never go away, but I can manage and cope with it. I will continue to find strength to overcome what is stopping me from enjoying experiences while being true to who I am.
To 2021, I hope you are a year of moments formerly taken for granted, cherishing the little things, and being a better human. I mean, it’s got to be better than last year, right?
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