Note To Self: Stay Connected
…Yes, Even If You’re An Introvert Who Craves Alone Time
I’m a socially awkward introvert. While I have a deep well of empathy towards all and enjoy socializing (in small doses with small groups), those experiences usually drain my energy and require quiet time to recuperate. There are so many times when I look at the world’s extroverts with envy — you know the kind of people who love being the center of attention and have never met a stranger. I wish social interaction energized me as much as it does them.
However, I’ve come to accept and even appreciate my introversion — the ability to enjoy my own company and focus intently on reading, learning, and contemplation. As an introvert who also had depression and anxiety, it’s taken me a long time to reach the point of feeling comfortable saying “No” when I needed to hibernate, but it’s something I know is necessary for my physical and mental well-being.
So, having turned from a lifetime of people-pleasing towards guarding my time and energy more carefully, I assumed that it would go without saying that being in self-protection mode didn’t mean I cared any less about family and friends. They know me. They know that I value our connection, right?
Even if I didn’t see or speak to them frequently, they knew my heart and how much they meant to me.
I’d fallen victim to the siren call of social media’s “faux connections”. I’m on Facebook and Instagram daily and Twitter several times a week. I’m connected with everyone from my parents and best friend of 30 years to former schoolmates I haven’t seen or spoken to IRL (in real life) in decades.
In some respects social media has given me the illusion of small-town life. I know what people are up to through the digital grapevine -- all with a scroll through my timeline.
Oh, they just got married? How lovely!
A winter break vacation to Jamaica? Must be nice!
Oh no! Her son’s in the E.R. because of his asthma again? Sending up prayers…
I felt like I saw the highlight reel of their lives, and my “likes” and comments served to communicate that I see them and care about their latest developments. I’d seen the hijinks of their pets, given many a “thumbs up" to post-race 5k pics, smiled at birthday and anniversary wishes to parents and grandparents, gushed over adorable, chubby-cheeked babies, and donated to the causes closest to their hearts.
That all seems amazing. In a pre-internet world, there’s no chance I would have known so much about so many in my social circle. That’s undeniable. However, knowing a little about so many acquaintences is no substitute for deep, meaningful, consistent connections with a few close people.
How do I know? Because my sister-friend -- one who’s been as close as family since we were 10 year-old sixth graders -- thought I no longer valued our friendship because we hadn’t spoken or hung out in over year. Hearing that harsh truth left me embarrassed and ashamed. In my attempts to not be a burden with my mental health issues and personal problems -- to jot be an emotional vampire -- I’d left her standing in the cold, outside my “circle of trust". I’d taken it for granted that she’d be there no matter what and that she felt my love.
So, despite being an introvert who hates the phone,and has days where getting out of bed, taking a shower, and getting dressed aren’t always a given, I decided to set an intention for the new year. I’m going to make an effort to reach out and reconnect with the people who mean the most to me. I don’t want to leave anyone doubtful about whether or not I cherish them.
That means, I’m going to take the initiative. If we haven’t spoken in the while, I’m going to check in on them (likely via text, but hey...baby steps).
I’m going to let them know when they’ve been on my mind. Just because I know they’re often in my thoughts doesn’t mean they know and feel that caring.
And most importantly, I need to show up IN PERSON for my family and friends. Even if I’m uncomfortable in my own skin in public, I want to be there for them to celebrate their success and lend a shoulder during their times of grief. Just being there matters.
