I saw a meme the other day that said: “The Empath: I used to think I was introverted because I really liked being alone, but it turns out that I just like being at peace, and I am very extroverted around people who bring me peace.”

To be honest, I don’t usually resonate with memes. They don’t speak to me and my unique (unusual?)  perspective on the world. Most memes are . . .well . . .  let’s just say it: basic. They are for the average person that doesn’t really know how to put their feelings into words. As any teacher of mine can attest, this has never been my problem.

This one struck me, however, because it revealed something to me about myself that I had not understood. In my youth, I always considered myself an extrovert. I liked to socialize and I like to talk, share and discuss. I was the type of person to gesture wildly at a nightclub and accidentally hit someone in the face who was trying to scoot by me to get to the bar. 

When I was in my late 20s and early 30s, I craved more socialization, more friends, more deep conversations with like minds. As my friends and I began seriously pursuing careers, we scattered to the winds and didn’t see each other much. At this point in life, there were only phones and snail-mail. The internet was here, but not many people were on it. Smartphones and texting were right around the corner, but my friends and I couldn’t yet keep up with each other on Instagram and chat on WhatsApp.

After grad school, I moved to Memphis and taught school in the suburbs. I didn’t know anyone here. Y’all, it is HARD to make friends as an adult in a new city. I tried going out by myself, striking up conversations with people, asking co-workers to hang with me outside of work, inviting people over to my place for dinner. I was a “try hard,” and it was kind of embarrassing.  At some point, I just kind of gave up trying to make friends IRL.

Then came the internet. I jumped in with both feet. I was what is called an “early adopter.” I reached out and tried making friends in chat rooms. (I type quickly, so having online conversations is easy for me.) I had a blog that chronicled my weight-loss journey that had real followers. Some people I met were awesome. Some were creeps. Very few were open to meeting someone they met on the internet in person. People tend to want to keep their internet friendships ON the internet. 

Running parallel to this evolution of online communication was the devolution of my personality. I slowly shifted away from being an extrovert to being more of an introvert. I didn’t really talk in staff meetings as much. I stopped trying to socialize with any coworkers. I did get married, but he was even more of an introvert than I am, which meant we spent time together, but not with other couples unless I went to a huge effort to wrangle an invitation to something. 

Keep in mind that I was working as a high school teacher, so my days were anything but quiet. I was surrounded by noise and fast-paced chaos all day. I TALKED all day. So, when I wasn’t at school, I sought out silence and stillness. 

Then, I became a mom, and my desire to connect with other moms drove me to try reaching out again, with limited success. I made some mom acquaintances, but not many mom friends. There were people I would see at birthday parties and school events, but they wouldn’t invite us over for a beer or anything. Add to that the new chaos of having a baby, then a toddler, then a teen. Kids all day at work and a kid at home as well. That’s a lot of—to put it simply–stimulus. I started to seek out solitude more and more. I resigned myself to the truth that maybe I am not meant to have real friends, the kind you talk to all the time about your tiny troubles, the kind you go on a joint vacation with.   

And guess what came next: Trump. And Twitter. Now, even in my bedroom with a calming candle burning, I could be losing my damn mind, adrenaline surging as I stared at the small screen, watching our entire democratic system slip away, one lie at a time. Dear reader, I’m sure you know what came next to push me right over the introversion edge. That’s right, it was COVID. I became so topped up with anxiety that I welcomed the shutdown. I didn’t want to be around any people if I didn’t have to. 

With all the fear, grief, and loss of the last two years, it has rarely even crossed my mind to make an effort to have a face-to-face conversation with anyone. Zooming for anything but work seemed like a chore. I started looking inward for my entertainment, starting a new fitness journey and joining Reddit and  Instagram communities around health, skincare, and makeup. Simple things. Easy things. Things I can control. 

When I saw that meme, I realized that I had undergone a reverse metamorphosis. The butterfly had built herself a cocoon and was now a cyber caterpillar, nestled inside her virtual world of interests and relationships. And I did it in the name of self-care. I did it to have a modicum of peace, an escape from my own anxieties. 

Upon reflection, I realized I also did this as a kid when I was moving around all through elementary school. But at that age, I escaped with books. As a teen and young adult, I felt no need to escape from real life. I was extroverted because I was at peace with the world. I was happy to be moving through life and expected only good things to come.

I wonder now, as I watch a video of a Ukrainian family lying lifeless in the street, having been struck by a rocket blast as they fled their home, if I will ever feel peace again. Is the world we live in past all peace? As an “empath,” will I ever be free from worrying about my child, my family, my country, or my planet again? Will I ever again be a part of a group of people that allow me enough peace that I will gesture wildly and smack the drink out of someone’s hand? I don’t know that I will. 

What I do know is that I don’t want to be quiet anymore. I don’t have to be at a cocktail party to express myself, and expressing myself anonymously on social media just doesn’t cut it for me anymore. So welcome to my blog, Too Many Notes.