Personality and other drugs

Being an introvert is like being on cocaine. 

I went to a slew of parties, and other gatherings, over the last week of 2022 and the first week of 2023, prompted by the Christmas spirit, weddings, and the ever-present need to be in a crowd just to be alone. 

Day one of party season, I patted myself on the back since I bravely decided to attend a do where I only knew the two persons who would be hosting it and would most definitely be too busy to keep me company. I turn up, get handed a beer, and then I proceed to spend about 45 minutes in a corner, listening to pretty people have conversations in groups. I did wonder about my sanity in coming to the thing, but food is a great motivator.

Eventually, though, I got somewhat adopted by a group of people and hung on to them for conversation — to feel included. 

I met up, separately, with a large number of friends who had come home for the year-end. I went out to the local fairs. I hung out with my mom. I attended a ceremony at my cousin's house.

Now, I have drowned.

The high of being in the midst of things. The urge to feel like a part of something. The want to feel important. These clash violently with my inherent need for isolation. And it's not that I actually like being alone. I do want to be with people. Rather, I get exhausted by interactions. The drowning after the soaring. I can, and usually do, hang out with people for six days straight. But I will find it difficult to function normally on the seventh. This is against my will. I will find it difficult to get out of bed. I will find it tiring to even have a simple conversation. 

But, I push myself into more and more social interactions, to make the most of having my friends around, and simultaneously plan ahead for my "off" days.

Sometimes, I need to be alone in a crowd so I can clearly hear myself think.