Making the best of a frustrating personality trait.
I remember writing in my diary once that self-imposed isolation was like, “walking around with a raincloud over your head, and avoiding people so that they don’t feel the downpour.” Or something to that effect, at least. In my pseudo-poetic 19-year-old rambles, I wanted to feel like I was able to make sense of my own head. In the nearly four years since, I’ve gathered a portion of the long-searched-for self-awareness, and tried to find a way to battle it. Whether I’m winning has yet to be determined.
Upon my transfer to Marist College I tried my best to be the outgoing person I used to be as a kid. I knew what I wanted out of my college experience, and I knew that the only way to get it would be if I stopped treating people like they knew I had the social grace of an awkward middle schooler. After all, college was for reinvention and discovering yourself! I soon found that I had the knack for being very good at first impressions. However, after I met people, I felt more inclined to make sure they kept themselves at arms-length from me and every aspect of my life. This is not a key thing to do when you first enter a new school. With that method, you’re destined to have a bunch of acquaintances and very little friends. After two and a half years, I’ve made a point to make myself the face that people seem to know, but not that well. Thus, I learned how to make the best of my own social ineptitude.
I spend a lot of time alone, and have the tendency to slip in and out of the radar. People very rarely know what I do in my free time. Ironically, there is a feeling of freedom in being alone—and I’m not saying this to put down those who don’t like solitude. Choosing to do things on my own has proven to be both the easiest and the most difficult decision to make. When I attend concerts alone, I can leave when I want to, I don’t have to worry about someone else coming up with their share of the ticket, and I don’t have to try and search for someone to go with me. If I want to go someplace, and I can afford it, I’ll go. If someone wants to come along, great; if not, I go anyway. Isolation has allowed me to accomplish so many things I wouldn’t have if I relied on others to join me. I studied abroad alone, attended festivals, museums, and movies alone. I was able to see my favorite bands, and partake in my favorite hobbies. Each time, I enjoyed myself. But, sometimes loneliness becomes an inevitable result.
I should state here that solitude is a means of gaining a large amount of self-awareness. Though when someone rarely spends time with others, too much self-awareness isn’t always a good thing. Attempting to make the best out of my comfort zone instead of trying to break out of it has caused me to miss out on many experiences with others. In the moment, I try to justify it by telling myself that I’d be better off alone, because I don’t want my social awkwardness to make other people uncomfortable. Sometimes, I’ve found that I’ve given off an antagonistic vibe in public so that people won’t approach me and subject themselves to the flaws in my personality. But at the end of the day, I’m not willing to give other people a chance. I suppose I don’t have faith that other people are capable of empathy and friendliness, which isn’t fair to others. In the same way that I wouldn’t want people to judge me before knowing me, I do the same to everyone else.
Since I transferred to Marist College, I’ve joined a sorority and had the pleasure of meeting many wonderful people. Still, a large part of me feels that my college experience would have been so much better had I allowed myself to enjoy the company of others. I’m optimistic that I won’t always be averse to social interactions, as I feel myself getting better at it with time. Maybe, someday, letting someone get to know me won’t seem so scary.