As a Child, Not Knowing You’re An Introvert Can Be Traumatic

For my whole life, I’ve stood outside of groups and watched. I wondered how groups work. How do you make friends?

I understand now that I’m an introvert. The last personality test I took put me at around 90% introvert.

I didn’t know what an introvert was as a child. For me, the everyday normal was that people met up and did stuff.

One day when I was a kid there was a pickup touch football game. At the nearby junior high school field. I heard about it through the grapevine. (Which wasn’t an app.)

I was athletic. I was a fast runner. I had played soccer for ten years.

I didn’t know who would be there.

I didn’t know that could be traumatic.

*

A couple of years ago I was in a theatre show. I knew one actress from a video I directed and she acted in. Mostly, we were all meeting for the first time.

I wanted to make friends and contacts. My goal was to be an actor. In an ongoing theme in my life, I didn’t build any relationships.

I watched them during rehearsals. Inside jokes, small talk, and everyone getting to know each other.

The only conversations I made dealt with the show. Something outside of me that was safe and easy to talk about. By the end, they were hanging out outside of rehearsals and planning to work on other projects together. I just went home.

*

The walk to the field became terrifying. Which was scary, because I didn’t understand why which added to the fear. I glimpsed into a terrifying new reality.

I suddenly knew without a doubt I wouldn’t fit in.

They would think I was silly and make fun of me.

How do I walk up and say hi?

Scary thoughts banged around my head. I had no reference for what was tearing me asunder. My heart raced. I sweated and shook.

The closer I got to the terrifying crowd I created in my mind the worse I felt.

*

I have worked with people for a year and they didn’t know much about me. It’s an ongoing niggle that I’m still picking over.

How is it possible to fail at human interactions? Isn’t that for psychos?

Once again my safe source of everyday conversation is the activity. I talk about a repair job that was silly or hard. I ask about the tools and how the work van drives.

How do people share?

I don’t share how I’m feeling or what I’m going through or problems I’m having. I spend so much time thinking about, processing, analyzing, and worrying about everything that I can’t comprehend how to put it into words.

*

I came to a standstill. The football game was two blocks away. I loved playing catch and running fast. When I left I couldn’t wait to get over there.

My sneakers stuck to the sidewalk.

All the feelings and thoughts were new. Odd. Upsetting. Racing around and making me dizzy.

What is wrong with me?

Why can’t I go and play?

I burst into tears. Which only added to the confusion and embarrassment. Now, what the hell am I doing? Why am I standing in front of this stranger’s house and crying?

My mind jittered, my heart kicked my ribs, and I wobbled on gummy knees.

This was not normal. Kids don’t feel like this? Right?

What is wrong with me?

I was somehow convinced they wouldn’t need another player. Why did I do this? Why did I think they’d want to play with me?

I turned around. Overwhelmed by gut-wrenching feelings.

Sobbing and shaking.

I know my mom was as confused as I was. I don’t remember what she said or did. I know that she calmed me down.

I headed back.

I played football. I was the fastest kid there. It was a great time. They needed more players, everyone was cool, and I was OK talking with them.

The world is built on small talk. Small talk happened at the game. Small talk happened during the rehearsals and run of the show. Endless small talk at every job I’ve had.

I endlessly investigate small talk. Sometimes while watching groups of “normal” humans hanging out with friends like they’re visiting aliens.

It befuddles me.

It’s an ongoing obsession, worry, angst, frustration, and endless source of confusion.

I will always be and feel like an outsider.

I’m at peace with that.

As a kid not knowing that I am an introvert traumatized me. I don’t blame my parents. They didn’t know any more than I did. It is just the knocks that shape you as a child.

I’m still outside looking in. But, I know why. I know it’s not wrong and there is nothing broken about me.

I understand the scary questions that show up. They are old friends.

Some days I head out, stop, and turn around.

It’s not fear, it’s not panic.

It’s a better understanding of self-care and limits.

I’m an introvert and some days I need to play football videogames instead of being at a football game.