I would consider myself a loner; there is only so much of people that I can tolerate. This is something that has crept up on me over the years, although I recall at school feeling the same. Being alone during the pandemic has allowed me to reflect on what exactly this means.
At school I would find conversations with the other kids boring. There was a small group that I hung out with, but more often than not I would drift away and walk the corridors during break or lunchtime. That was okay for a while but it soon felt awkward to me. I began to dread my free time, which wasn't really free to me, it was as if I was condemned to socialise and interact. Generally I drifted into my own thoughts as a means of escape.
This social inadequacy followed me into adulthood. In the sixth form I would do the same, having nothing to say to the other students. At university, I would spend a lot of time in my room, social distancing myself.
I have been social distancing all my life. This is not something new to me.
In later years I value my alone time. At work I am forced to interact, but there is usually a topic of a professional nature that I am comfortable discussing. Ask me something about my private life and I seize up. On the phone the other day, when the IT director called me to discuss my voluntary severance, he asked me what I consider to be personal questions: did I live alone, did I live in a flat or a house? I reluctantly answered but it made my skin crawl.
Opening up has always been a problem for me. I think it is definitely related to my social distancing strategies, and also to the gay thing. These days the young define themselves without any qualms. It is not something that comes naturally to me. For years I have had to hide who I am, and all of a sudden people seem annoyed that I wouldn't reveal to them who I sleep with?
I have built up a hard crust over my skin throughout the years, and I am not ready to shed it now. I know it is good to talk and share feelings, blah blah blah. That's fine. I'll share them by writing them down. I just don't want a conversation about it. I'd rather drift away along the corridors in my mind, considering all the different outcomes and permutations of my next steps.
That said, on Day 18 of my confinement, I am feeling rather strange. I have spoken to R every day on the phone, and I dabble in social media (although keep a safe distance). But actually there is something about having a living, breathing person in the same room that I am missing. I miss R of course, and talking to him is not enough. I wish we were isolating together, as he is my soulmate. That is not a question of being social, it is more than that.
But anyone else, I am weary to let them in. At some point, beyond all this in the future, I will need to venture outside and interact. For now I will endure my own company for a few more weeks.
At school I would find conversations with the other kids boring. There was a small group that I hung out with, but more often than not I would drift away and walk the corridors during break or lunchtime. That was okay for a while but it soon felt awkward to me. I began to dread my free time, which wasn't really free to me, it was as if I was condemned to socialise and interact. Generally I drifted into my own thoughts as a means of escape.
This social inadequacy followed me into adulthood. In the sixth form I would do the same, having nothing to say to the other students. At university, I would spend a lot of time in my room, social distancing myself.
I have been social distancing all my life. This is not something new to me.
In later years I value my alone time. At work I am forced to interact, but there is usually a topic of a professional nature that I am comfortable discussing. Ask me something about my private life and I seize up. On the phone the other day, when the IT director called me to discuss my voluntary severance, he asked me what I consider to be personal questions: did I live alone, did I live in a flat or a house? I reluctantly answered but it made my skin crawl.
Opening up has always been a problem for me. I think it is definitely related to my social distancing strategies, and also to the gay thing. These days the young define themselves without any qualms. It is not something that comes naturally to me. For years I have had to hide who I am, and all of a sudden people seem annoyed that I wouldn't reveal to them who I sleep with?
I have built up a hard crust over my skin throughout the years, and I am not ready to shed it now. I know it is good to talk and share feelings, blah blah blah. That's fine. I'll share them by writing them down. I just don't want a conversation about it. I'd rather drift away along the corridors in my mind, considering all the different outcomes and permutations of my next steps.
That said, on Day 18 of my confinement, I am feeling rather strange. I have spoken to R every day on the phone, and I dabble in social media (although keep a safe distance). But actually there is something about having a living, breathing person in the same room that I am missing. I miss R of course, and talking to him is not enough. I wish we were isolating together, as he is my soulmate. That is not a question of being social, it is more than that.
But anyone else, I am weary to let them in. At some point, beyond all this in the future, I will need to venture outside and interact. For now I will endure my own company for a few more weeks.
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