The Difficult Climb to Understanding

What is the Right Balance?

Okay, I admit it…I’m a loaner. Being a writer makes being alone easier. I also want to mention that I like my own company. There! I said it.

So why do I feel guilty about that?

I think I know why: it stems from hearing most of my acquaintances boast how their lives are filled with daily excursions—a must, they say—and having several close relationships. And there lies the dichogamy . . . I can go days without communicating with anyone except for my husband. Yet, I chastise myself for not needing to be around people, even though I find most chit-chat frivolous, uninteresting, and most social situations exhausting.

When in gatherings I’ve taught myself to be patient with myself and bow out physically and emotionally. I will escape to the bathroom for a few minutes, then come back rejuvenated. Somewhat. When that wears off, I find a quiet corner and result of observing people. Body language is fascinating. I can learn a lot from watching and using this material in my writing.

And in the process, I’ve learned that I’m not the only one who has social limitations. There has to be a reason people resort to drinking alcohol to help them “take the edge off.” We all have our limitations. And that’s why, I wonder about the people in my life who claim that they cannot be by themselves, that they “need to be around people” all the time. To me, that seems inconceivable. These kinds of declaration I view with suspicion. Let me be more explicit: from my vantage point, how is it possible? They bound to run out of things to talk about. And if they don’t, what they have to say merits substance?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a hermit. I do enjoy some people’s company. I appreciate the company of people who really listen to what I have to say. I have little patience for those who are busy formulating an answer, retort, or come up with their own agenda while I’m in the middle of talking. I don’t enjoy the company of those who continuously interrupt me while I talk.

And if that happens, I calm down. I decide not to share anything of myself, because, what’s the point? When I have a conversation with someone, I don’t want it to become a competition of who can talk more, who sounds smarter. It should be a give and take experience. And this is why my circle of friends (which are few and fewer) is numbered on the one hand.

I don’t see having few friends as a problem. What I do see as a problem, is my self-critique. The self who tells me I should stretch myself further from the boundaries I seem to embrace and like.