I was scrolling through Instagram and saw this quote on a friend's feed. It struck me because it resonates, which may surprise some people. You see, I'm not a quiet person. I tend to do well in social situations, even when I'd rather be anywhere else doing anything else. I appear to be fairly extroverted and am capable of small talk with strangers.
The truth is, though, that I'm much more introverted than most people would at first guess. When small talk reaches is unavoidable end, I get very uncomfortable and seek a graceful (and sometimes not so graceful) escape. When excusing myself is impossible, it is then that I become the observer. I listen and I watch, all while yearning to be home in my safe little den.
Being married to a true extrovert who loves people and is energized by group interactions can be a challenge at times. When it's time to go hang out with our close friends and family, I'm eager to do so. These people already understand and accept me, flaws and all. They know my little idiosyncrasies. They're familiar with my personal brand of crazy. And I know theirs. There's comfort in that level of familiarity.
When my husband wants me to meet new people, to expand our circle of friends, I am hesitant. I dread the unknown personalities I will have to navigate and, if I'm completely honest, I fear being bored. Being surrounded by people you share little in common with is dreadful. There's nowhere to go after the small talk! Despite these anxieties, I go because I love my husband and want him to be happy. Most of the time, these little excursions turn out just fine and I have a good time. Possibly even a great time.
As these acquaintances become casual friends, I find more and more that we can talk about. I listen. I observe. I react to what I see and hear, using what I've discovered to help generate discussions. Each exposure to that person helps broaden the safety zone. Small talk becomes less necessary. A fairly normal process, I think.
Yet, this is where I think the quote really resonates. You see, I'm a bit of an odd duck and I know it. I'm not ashamed of who I am, but I am also very aware that my interests will likely bore most people. The things I can talk passionately about for hours cause even my husband's eyes to glaze over within moments.
It's more than that, though.
True understanding requires letting people through your defenses. It requires vulnerability and a willingness to risk rejection of your core self. These are difficult things for me to do. Truly opening up and being fully vulnerable to someone other than my family? It takes a great deal of trust, which can take years for someone to earn.
So, yes, I much prefer to understand others before I let them truly understand and know me.
Being married to a true extrovert who loves people and is energized by group interactions can be a challenge at times. When it's time to go hang out with our close friends and family, I'm eager to do so. These people already understand and accept me, flaws and all. They know my little idiosyncrasies. They're familiar with my personal brand of crazy. And I know theirs. There's comfort in that level of familiarity.
When my husband wants me to meet new people, to expand our circle of friends, I am hesitant. I dread the unknown personalities I will have to navigate and, if I'm completely honest, I fear being bored. Being surrounded by people you share little in common with is dreadful. There's nowhere to go after the small talk! Despite these anxieties, I go because I love my husband and want him to be happy. Most of the time, these little excursions turn out just fine and I have a good time. Possibly even a great time.
As these acquaintances become casual friends, I find more and more that we can talk about. I listen. I observe. I react to what I see and hear, using what I've discovered to help generate discussions. Each exposure to that person helps broaden the safety zone. Small talk becomes less necessary. A fairly normal process, I think.
Yet, this is where I think the quote really resonates. You see, I'm a bit of an odd duck and I know it. I'm not ashamed of who I am, but I am also very aware that my interests will likely bore most people. The things I can talk passionately about for hours cause even my husband's eyes to glaze over within moments.
It's more than that, though.
True understanding requires letting people through your defenses. It requires vulnerability and a willingness to risk rejection of your core self. These are difficult things for me to do. Truly opening up and being fully vulnerable to someone other than my family? It takes a great deal of trust, which can take years for someone to earn.
So, yes, I much prefer to understand others before I let them truly understand and know me.
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