I’m an introvert.
The reasons I’m an introvert are partly because of my genetic make-up and personality and partly because of the traumas and pains I’ve experienced in life.
I am shy, painfully so.
It was my perception that I couldn’t relate to others because I was too different. I never gave anyone a chance to know me—to really know me.
I’d created an intricately-made bubble constructed of the tears from my pain and fears. It was fluid but impenetrable. Only very few were allowed in my space, for it was a space I’d built that was safe because I’d made it so.
It was in this space I have been able to begin healing. It was in this space I’d been able to reveal myself completely, with all of my open wounds.
It was predominately myself that I revealed myself to, but there were also a few I’d allowed in.
The strange dichotomy was that, although this bubble felt safe, it kept me from fully participating in life.
What was once my salvation, had entrapped me in an illusion of seclusion, protection and healing. I’d talked myself into believing that my healing necessitated me removing myself from the rest of the world.
My bubble was comfortable.
But beyond it, I saw that adventure and excitement awaited. “But, I’m not an adventurous person,” I’d tell myself.
My fear encapsulated me.
It was important in my journey to seek the comfort and safety of my solitude. My solace depended on it. I recognized that fully.
But, a part of my heart longed to be a part of the whole, not just the whole of a part. Rather than simply analyze humanity from the safety of my enclosure, I desired to participate in all of its messy glory. But, I felt stuck in the wanting.
In this bubble, my pain had been amplified.
In some ways, it was counter-productive. I told myself that this was part of the healing process, but it was only my fear that kept me in my isolation. Fear of experiencing more pain, fear of pursuing happiness that perhaps wasn’t meant for me, fear that I couldn’t handle feeling the pain of humanity, from which I’d been buffered in my bubble.
In my seclusion, I did learn a lot about myself and about the world. I’d begun to forgive. I’d learned to survive. I’d learned that I had some value in the world.
But, I felt afraid to take these lessons and apply them to my existence outside of my protection. I had the desire to live outside of this comfortable prison, this beautiful cell, but I didn’t know how to begin.
What I knew was that it couldn’t end with the wanting, never acting on that desire.
My seclusion was physical, my protection emotional and I wanted to break free—so breaking free is what I did.
I had to quiet the whispers of my broken pieces, telling me that no one would understand me.
And so, I slowly and carefully began disassembling the protective bubble I’d worked hard to create.
I had hope that the lessons I’d learned in that space would help me live beyond that protection. This is where my healing began.
I found that the protective bubble I’d built skewed my perception of the world around me. I’d developed what I called a “realistic” view of humanity, but in reality, it was pure pessimism. I couldn’t see the goodness and kindness that pervaded humankind.
When I stepped out of my self-proclaimed safe place, I met people that were like me, people who understood what it was like to be different and to experience pain and trauma. I learned that there are many more good people than bad.
I learned that we have in us an inherent good.
I learned that I’m lovable and that I can have real relationships. I learned to thrive, rather than merely survive. I allowed myself to be seen, to be known, to love and be loved.
Many of us have built impenetrable walls, that keep everyone at a distance.
These walls were built with painful memories. For a time, they were necessary, for we needed their protection. But, many of us never stopped building them and now everyone lies outside. We began protecting ourselves from living.
If we take a leap of faith, we will find that taking down these walls will allow our lives to be open to living in freedom without fear.
We will find that if we allow others to see us, to know us, we will also find others that will love us for who we are, in all of our raw complexity.
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Relephant:
The One thing to Remember when it comes to Making New Friends.
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Author: Julie Anne Miller
Editor: Ashleigh Hitchcock
Photo: flickr
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