There comes a time in life when you have to re-evaluate yourself. In my case, this last year or so, I have come to wonder: am I an introvert? You see, most of the time I'm so busy, or the family so demanding of my time and attention, I'm perfectly happy to hole up in my own house (or even my bedroom with the Tiny Writing setup). But then, I realize I miss something. I miss meatspace interactions with those nearest and dearest friends.
Most of my adult life I've hung out with people on the internet. Starting way back in 1998, before my oldest child was born, I got involved in online communities because I simply didn't have the real-time interactions with other people I once had. I grew up involved in church and CAP, among other things, but as a new wife and mother? That all went away and I was very alone, in any sense of the word. Along with discovering reading online in the predecessors to ebooks, I discovered the simple joys of forums full of like-minded folks, whether that was moms talking about teaching, or gardeners, or joy of joys, people who actually read as much if not more than myself.
Later, as the isolation got deeper, the friends I had made online became a lifeline back to finding reality and realizing I need to be 'there' rather than where I was. Much later, I discovered that the First Reader could be more than a friend, and our relationship deepened and developed. When I'd pulled myself out of the cave, metaphorically, I was able at long last to do something I had wanted to do for years at that point. Meet people and give them hugs. Talk to them face to face. Sometimes cook for them. But still, given that my friend circle now stretched literally around the globe thanks to the marvels of modern communication, what meetings could be arranged were few and far between.
I find that I can't get along well without periodic people recharges. Not necessarily that I need random people. No, actually that is very tiring, going out and meeting new people and trying to keep the normal masquerade up so I don't scare them. I need my friends, in meatspace, or I get sad. It would be convenient if I had friends within easy cook-you-dinner-monthly distance, but I don't. Part of that is because I am an introvert, somewhere on the spectrum of introversion. I don't actually make connections quickly. I'm shy about following up, and awkward about knowing how to re-approach someone I engaged with.
Don't get me wrong. I am a firm believer in online friendship. It is possible to have a deeply connected relationship with someone who you have never met in meatspace, or who you only see once every few years. I treasure my friends, no matter where they live. However, I find that as I grow older, or grow... something, I need the in-person interactions as well. Which makes me question my introversion. Am I really an introvert if I grow heartsick for those I love when I am too long apart from them? Does it really matter, other than acknowledging that I need this, to feed my soul, and make the effort to go and get a hug when I need one, and have those random conversations where the topics are all over the map, and most often there are several conversational threads flying around the room like the workings of a vast loom, weaving a tapestry of thoughts into some weirdly beautiful piece of art? That's what I need. Not too often, because like all great art, it fills the mind to satiation, and takes time to digest. Nevertheless, I seek it out when I grow cold and empty inside. I don't know if I feed anyone else, which feels a bit strange and almost selfish, but then again... friendship is a bit like marriage. Or marriage is like supercharged friendship. Depends on how you look at it. I'm not talking about the legal bonds, I mean the spiritual ties. Friendship is more tenuous than the marriage tie, because there's no need to have that pledge of devotion in sickness and in health, until death. But there is still a mutual understanding and respect, a give and take. I trust that my husband will tell me if he needs something from me. I trust him enough that I seek him out to fill my needs. And in friendships that are close enough, there is also that trust that communication will exist. That if I am being too needy, someone will tell me that. If I don't know the connection is that clear, then I will be very cautious not to ask anything of the person, because filling my soul up at their expense would be wrong. If that makes any sense. Perhaps it does not. It is early, and I am overflowing onto the page, and anticipating a return from this vacation from reality to the world where the dishes must be done, the needy children assured of their places in my heart, and the work that comes on Monday will obliterate the remnants of the glow I have right now.
I can know all this, and still... still I have no regrets. I have had fellowship, and my soul is full of love and joy.