Solitary life has been an adventure, mostly mental in scope, rather than physical. There've been many days where I've set out with a goal to complete tasks X,Y, and Z and inevitably end up trembling in front of the computer screen, safe and sound watching videos or digging myself into deeper sorrow by scrolling through all of the profiles of the pretty, happy Facebook profiles out there. Then there're days where I over-book myself socially and end up a frazzled wreck, my mind screaming for a drink to calm my rattled nerves. The paradox then persists where, in feeling so lonely, I drink far too much and stumble home, wake up angry with myself, and then panic once again at feeling unable to share it with others, becasue I find their concern too jarring to handle. Most often, it has absolutely nothing to do with me, and mostly with their own problems, and my honesty and desire to feel understood initiates yet another well-meaning disconnect, which drags me back home where I judge myself too harshly on the tasks I have yet to do, annnnnd... you see the pattern emerging, right? The real triumph in all of this is seeing this pattern. It feels good to call it out and give it a solid elbow to the face.
I don't work well under pressure, and I work even less well when observed and critiqued mid-process. I don't like a lot of periphery distractions while I work (lengthy conversation, music, numerous interruptions). I do weird things. I experiment. I set up long, spiralling series of actions that economize effort and opt for the preservation of all elements involved. Doing anything in a hurry has only led me to frayed nerves, ratty corners and easily-avoidable damage all done for the greater good of speed without greater acknowledgment of all factors involved. I work deep, and I work thorough. If I can't do much, I do something. If I can't focus on a task, I find something else to do that's useful in the meantime just to keep the ball rolling. "Done" exists in purely conceptual terms, and I'm fine with that. I perform most tasks better when calm and alone. All of this is okay. It's my nature and my method of operation.
It's been a big deal to feel okay with this. I've ground myself into dust trying to pull something together in a manner that's counter-intuitive to the way that I do things, that in fact feels disruptive to that way. Acknowledging that I really have to put forth effort to interact socially is damned well enlightening. It's one thing to relax around people, and it's another to relax with people. The former is possible and enjoyable, the latter... mnreh.
In spite of this desire to act alone and realign myself with my working methods, I feel like allowing my introversion to play out has made me a lot better with people. I smile more. I have more patience. I can understand where others are coming from more easily, and if I don't feel like I can take the interaction I let myself go elsewhere, with no ill intent toward others. Other people and socializing becomes less daunting, more a slight need to focus and redirect than a barrage requiring dug-in heels and a riot shield.
For those reading, thank you ahead of time for respecting that this post is a one-way street. I disabled comments, and I ask that you refrain from commenting on this in other forums of communication. There's nothing here for others to take personally, but an observance of my own behavior and what works for me. If this runs counter to methods you may use to do things, then we simply have different methods (focused attention vs. diffusive attention, for instance). Sure, it's dumb to post something and not expect feedback, but sometimes a person just needs a pressure valve to let something go and someone to witness it. Rock on.
