Life sure does get “life-y"
…a bit of a ramble from a weary introvert.
There is a lot going on. Too much, almost. I’m not talking about the State of the Everything, although that certainly contributes a lot of background noise. I’m talking about what I used to call my “quiet little life.” As my dear friend Janet says, Life is pretty life-y right now.
Nothing in particular — nothing earth shattering — is going on. But there’s a lot of something. The inside of my head feels overcrowded. And I’ve got to tell you, my batteries are in danger of running all the way down.
I’m pretty sure I know why.
At least four times in my 68 years, I’ve taken the Meyers-Briggs personality assessment. The first time, I was freshly out of college. Most recently — just a few years ago — the assessment was at the request of the therapist who was helping me through an intense episode of depression and anxiety. The results always shock me, even though they probably shouldn’t. No matter my age or phase, the first letter in my Meyers-Briggs results is always an “I” — as in introvert.
How can this be? I ask myself. I’ve been a performer since I could stand up in front of an audience. I sang solos in church from the time I was seven or eight years old. I was in lots of talent shows and lots of plays. Give me a topic and a microphone and I am fine in front of a group. I majored in theatre. I even worked in the professional theatre for a few years.
At any gathering of people, Public Me is outgoing, chatty, interested in what makes you tick, what makes you comfortable, what fills you with joy. One look at Public Me, and you’d say extrovert for sure.
You’d be mistaken.
Don’t get me wrong. I like people! It’s people-ing that drains me of energy. I prepare for social events the way other folks might prepare for a half-marathon. On the day of an outing or gathering with friends, I try not to schedule any other Big Things. I plan rest. I tell myself that I will enjoy the event as fully as possible, and I give myself permission to step quietly out the door if and when I feel my energy tank running dry. Sometimes that’s not possible. (Sometimes it would be downright rude.) Afterwards, it can take hours to recover and recharge and find my center again.
From time to time, I worry about this situation. I really do enjoy being with my friends, and their friends. New experiences and new groups make me happy. Really. (Please don’t stop inviting me to things!) Not only do I need the buffers I construct around group activities, I also need a recovery strategy.
My daily creative practice has become essential for recharging my inner battery. That’s why the annual 100 Day Project is such an important part of my life. This year’s challenge ends tomorrow, and I’m pretty proud of how I’ve been able to stick with my project — making little zines and book-ish items — almost every day for 100 days.
When I sit down at my art-space to work on the book-ish items and their contents, the life-y world recedes. The background noise is silenced. It’s like being in a cocoon. I promise myself at least 15 focused minutes. Sometimes that’s all I can manage, but more often than not, I’ll resurface and discover I’ve been working away for two hours.
As I wrap up this year’s 100 Day Project, I find I’m ready to set the book-ish item project aside. I’m eager to move on to the next creative thing — and several next things are waiting in the wings. I want to get back to painting regularly. I want to explore serious book-binding. I need to submit more poems. Mostly, I want to keep up the rhythm, the daily-ness, of my creative practice. I really do need that cocoon.
(The em-dashes are the product of my human brain… there’s no AI anywhere in sight.)
as someone who started acting because I wanted to learn how to look like someone who actually liked being around people... yeah, I get it. I spoke at 134 conferences, large company board meetings, shareholder meetings, and executive retreats one of my years at IBM, and after every one of those I had to close down to the world, sometimes not even being able to tolerate being in a restaurant, to regenerate the personality I needed the next day. (I picked up a not funny reputation for putting my airplane blanket over my head on long flights...) but I suspect that for all of what you've said, monasticism is also not fully who you are. You're not just (kathy) but also, even though only a little bit, KATHY! I've been enjoying my quiet unemployed tinkering life the last couple months, but something's itchy back of my brain... that persona I created (and I bet the one you created) is a part of the whole person, and needs to get taken out for a trot from time to time.
If you found a way to get in the swirl for a couple hours your concentration on the quiet work would be phenomenally intense.
Hugs. I remember my lightbulb moment when I realized that socializing, as fun as it is, was exhausting. Some of us need more alone time/down time to recharge our batteries than other folks do.