In our Skype session on Thursday, my therapist commented that I seem much more relaxed and comfortable than when we used to meet in her office. Then, apparently, I was always fretting about my phone, or my keys, or something, always apologising for being two minutes late. Maybe so, but it’s not just that. Our first couple of Skype sessions were pretty stressful too.
This life suits me. Sometimes I just slip into quietness – in a good way, a happy, here-and-now way, a ‘mindful’ way, I guess. Well, it could be just tiredness, but even then it’s a healthy, dozy, peaceful sleepiness, not a mind-buzzing agitated fatigue.
I told her about the worst thing that happened in the week – the encounter with the checkout lady in the Co-op – and realised then that she was the only actual real world person I had encountered since our session the week before. I explained that it’s being with other people that bothers me, though I felt ashamed to admit it.
‘Why do you think that’s shameful?’ she asked.
I blustered a bit.
‘Well, it’s not good to be… misanthropic, is it?’ (though I realised as I said it that’s not a good word, I don’t exactly hate other people in general, I’m just not comfortable about interacting with them) ‘…it’s not right… it’s… inhuman!’
‘Why do you think it’s inhuman?’
Because good people like other people and like being with people. Don’t they? Isn’t that what makes us human?
Well… sometimes I like being with people. What about all those happy pictures I post of myself with friends and family? Ahh, but you can never judge anyone’s mood, personality or attractiveness by looking at the pics they post on social media. Not mine, anyway. Obviously, I only share the ones where I’m looking vaguely human, which gives a completely distorted image of what I see when I look in the mirror.
Now I’ve allowed myself to be distracted from what I was going to say, which is – for example, take the May Day gathering I mentioned yesterday, I enjoyed that – but I can guarantee that I was apprehensive beforehand. Being with other people is always stressful for me, however well I know them, it’s an ordeal because I’m on eggshells in case I do or say something stupid, like taking the wheeled basket-holder in the supermarket, when I should have asked for a normal basket. But I used to work at a regular job, how did I manage then? Because most of the time I got away with it. – but I still felt that sense of dread every day.
I think I’ve tapped into something very deep here, something that goes way beyond introverted vs extroverted. It’s hard to admit, because it does sound quite bizarre, but it explains a lot.
And as my therapist pointed out, in spite of all that, I’m prepared to share this here, with anyone who bothers to read it – perhaps because I don’t really believe anyone will.
I did
🙂