It’s a weird feeling, seeing yourself in an entirely different light.
When we reframe who we think we are, without rejecting the possibility that we could be wrong about ourselves, we open ourselves up to truths normally well hidden.
It’s the closest thing we have to seeing ourselves through the eyes of another person. We catch a glimpse of what it must be like to see ourselves as a stranger might meeting us for the first time and experiencing the initial impression of what we’re like.
With enough digging, any sort of deep introspection is bound to yield results, however unexpected. If you continue down the path of self-investigation, no matter the occasional pain it causes, you’re guaranteed to find something new about yourself that you didn’t know before.
As adults, younger adults especially, we tend to think that since the world now sees us as a fully grown, functioning member of society, that this must be it. This is who we are and who we must be. We’ve gotten this far being this person, after all. Shouldn’t it go without saying that the person you’ve been all along is the person you’re going to continue to be?
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The revelation came to me a few years ago at work
My friend and I were talking about personality quirks or something and I remember saying something along the lines of, “Well, I’m pretty extroverted. I like being out and about a lot.”
This was followed by her giving me a confused look and saying, “What do you mean? You’re an introvert!”
“What? Nuh uh, I’m always like, being loud and talking to everyone and trying to be the center of attention.”
“Maybe when you’re drinking,” she said, “but you always talk about how you spend all your time alone and how you get exhausted being around people for too long.”
I thought for a moment and realized she was on to something.
“Yea…yea, I guess I do.”
I had to admit, she was right. I spent most of my time outside of work alone, and most of the time preferred it that way. People can be draining, and I always needed long stretches of solitude before I had any desire at all to socialize again.
We had a bit more back-and-forth talking about it but all I really remember is how that tiny perspective shift made me feel. My 20’s had been so full of anxiety, self-consciousness, and substance abuse, that I never really noticed that most of my “extroverted” nature had been fueled by drugs, alcohol, and an incessant need for approval.
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Clichés
I always considered introverted people to be the ones at parties sitting on the couch in the corner or hanging out in another room with select few people; the ones that didn’t hang out that often and kept to themselves when they would show up. Sure, it’s a stereotype of that kind of personality type, but it still rings true for plenty of people.
I, on the other hand, made a point to be the life of the party. I was always cracking jokes and being obnoxious. I couldn’t stand missing out and couldn’t keep myself to one social circle when I was out with friends or at a party. I was a total social butterfly. It was only until I realized why I actually did this that made it all made sense to me.
I know we’ve all got a bit of extroversion and introversion within us. It’s no surprise that each of us, under varying circumstances, can display any shade on that spectrum.
People act differently around different people and in different circumstances. Like how you act at work as opposed to around your parents or being at a bar with friends, for example.
There are plenty of silent loners at work who explode into laughter and rainbows once you get them around the right people. But to think that you are fundamentally one thing and then realize you’re the opposite? It feels like psychological whiplash.
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Life inverts when you start worrying about what other people think
I started realizing that I had been putting up a front for nearly my entire life.
Ever since I was in Elementary school and would occasionally get picked on by other kids, I’ve been using my humor as a distraction and deterrent to that kind of unwanted attention. I figured if I could make someone laugh, they’d have to like me. Which, looking back, they did. I became more accepted and stood out less. Or, at least stood out for better reasons.
Throughout the years of inflating my personality to garner the positive attention and respect of others, it never occurred to me as a young kid that before all of that desperation and anxiety, I wasn’t in fact so desperate and anxious.
I had always been a pretty quiet kid with a few close friends and never felt the need to be the center of attention all the time. But after years of trying to impress people and being seen as clever, funny, entertaining, etc., it started to become a core reflex. Something that never felt natural, but something that I couldn’t help doing.
It’s no wonder that acting against my nature would lead me to feeling anxious and depressed, which would then lead to numbing my feelings and trying to get out of my head with substance and alcohol abuse.
Those vices turned into the gas that kept the fire going. They ramped up that side of my personality so much that it started to become second nature. I no longer had to try to be witty and clever or force the fun anymore. It’s just who I was, regardless of the fact that my entire perspective of myself for the previous decade was mostly seen through bourbon-colored glasses.
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Taking the glasses off
It was only until these past few years of being on my own that I really started to understand the value of solitude and getting to know yourself more thoroughly.
People who have moved away from everyone they grew up with know what I mean. The feeling of needing to get away, or that you’re being called towards the clichéd journey of “finding yourself,” and you can only start that journey by taking steps away from what you know.
While I know that these sorts of terms like introvert and extrovert can be used fairly loosely and no one is 100% one or the other, I do believe there is a clear distinction between craving connection and seeking solitude. It’s obvious that some people are much more inclined towards one than the other.
I’ve thought about what my friend said a lot. She was absolutely right, I do prefer to be on my own. Groups exhaust me after too long and over the years following my recovery from addiction, I really no longer care so much about what others may or may not say of me.
Through the work I’ve done on myself in investigating who I am, what I really care about, and what I actually enjoy doing, I’ve come to see the person I’ve always been behind the mask I’d worn for so long. I’ve started to understand where most of my depression and anxiety truly stem from — the need to be seen in a particular way.
I’ve grown so used to gravitating towards the center of attention, that even now, after a few weeks of being mellow and living a quieter life, I still have the overwhelming desire to go out, pour whiskey on my brain, and explode. I know that kind of feeling is normal for a lot of people after enough time alone, but when it’s left unchecked it can really throw a wrench in the gears attempting to crank a successful life into existence.
When it’s all said and done, I can’t deny the nurtured side of myself that craves the attention. Shit, I’m still a complete sucker for flattery. I can never get enough compliments, and I never pass up an opportunity to showcase my bountiful bantering with anyone willing to clash with dueling whiskey breath. But I also can’t deny what seems to come much more naturally — my need for time alone, my desire for quiet, my time spent inside my shell, peaceful, content, and reluctant to come out.
The realizations I’ve come to about who I am and could be in these past few years have been nothing short of revelatory. It’s a freeing feeling to finally understand where so much of your apprehension and self-doubt come from. But taking the steps to integrate an emerging side of yourself into what’s already fully developed is still quite another beast.
We are each a living dualism, a walking paradox forever trying to balance the scales. A line between chaos and order that seems to shift and flip-flop its sides as we grow older. Still, we can’t help but straddle the thing. To walk it in true balance beam fashion, continuously slipping off as if it were made of ice. It’s only natural to want to pick a side and be done with it.
It’s quite an important insight — realizing that you’ve never been who you’ve thought you were your whole life. To see yourself from another perspective and not only find it curious but to realize that it’s who you really are. To realize that you have an entire side of your personality handcrafted by the vices of a younger self.
Sitting beside your newly developed, true form, the old self sits alive and well. It’s no longer at the controls, but it’s fully grown now, and still needs affection like an old family pet who survives solely on nostalgic spirits and some quality head-scratchies and belly rubs.
That’s okay, though, he’s still a good old boy.
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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Photo credit: Stefano Zocca from unsplash.com