The last days, a word has started to pop-up and mess around in my head. Introvert. The name isn’t exactly a diagnose, nor is it easily put on somebody as a label. Some people have it but far from all. The label can do more harm than good however since it can turn out to be a fulfilling prophecy of sorts. I.E you start to live like it because you heard it, or were called it.
For me, it means that I feel uncomfortable with things like “27 things only introverts understand” etc. i do understand a lot of them, but not all. My Psychiatrist said that’s because everybody are introvert and extrovert. Only those with other diagnoses usually tend to have the diagnosis of being an introvert. Still, in my case, having fatigue syndrome, the introvert aspects of my life will get sort of enhanced due to the side effects of my other illness. Being also a bit of a loner and not the happiest fella in on the block sure does put a damper on things. So, understanding those things are another thing. Being introvert and having the need to recharge after long, or even short, instances of social living or being in a room or place with lots of other beings makes sense. So, I may be or may not be it.
That however makes more sense. The ‘not knowing’ have been my signum comment since after puberty. I just don’t know. I’m a living dadaist waiting for opportunities to fall down on me and I roll with them. Great, some of you might think. Not so great, I have to admit. It works when you are in the right areas, the right fields, with the right people but when you are not? Not so damn good. For me, the best things in life have just happened, they turned up and I said more or less, well OK, let’s go with that. When I have had to strive, worked or fought my ass off to get something I want? Well, disaster might not be the word for it, but not far from it. I don’t think that I have really succeeded in pursuing any goals that I have felt determined or have longed for really. Not purposefully, achieving them. Not one. And if I did, I mean, there may be a few that’s on the fence, I haven’t felt happy or that exhilarating feeling of success. Exhilaration is a feeling I haven’t felt often at all really.
So, I as in I am an Individual, one that just happens to be is frustrating because I try to tell myself I have no dreams, no goals. And truthfully, they are not really there. The ones that may come up? Oh, I squash those ones, quickly and purposefully. And that, I’m, very good at. Sort of the quality you shouldn’t be cheerful for possessing. Anyone needs a demotivator? Anyone too happy? I can help.
So introvert? Yeah, I do have a strong part of that right now. Helps in a way when I try to write. I do write. A lot, I just don’t post it for anyone to see, because, you know, it’s most likely rubbish and nobody going to read it anyway. Oh, did I tell you that I also suffer from a life long low self-esteem? Well, I do. Doubt is strong in this one. But I do write, and type and do my little mind-maps – which I to some degrees caught up ion my own little world put no heed to. I do try to keep all the names there and connections and stuff so that I get at least that correct.
Tips on writing? I have only two: Find out who you are writing for. Yourself? An audience or to get rich and famous or for who? The other is the standard boring answer, but always write. Make it a habit. If you want to make it, I guess you have to become anti-me, you have to learn the business, you must have a really nice unique lovable idea, a good language, a damn good self-esteem, handle critique very well, have an agent, be great at correcting and writing proper grammar or the one thing I don’t have at all: Lucky.
For me, I’m lucky I have decided that I wrote for me. I do fear to delve into that reason though since the quick questions that follows are of course, why? Is it to keep my latest escape make up world come alive and swallow me up from trying to get an ordinary life? Do I escape the hell around me already? Yeah, about that… I’ll have a cup of the, and might be back on that later on…