An introvert and an extrovert walk into a bar... and both come out extroverts?
Guys, something odd is happening. When we moved to the so-called "wilderness", I thought I would see less people than before. Equally apprehensive and excited, I was eager to experience a whole lotta solitude.
'I will live a real writer's life,' I told myself enthusiastically. 'There will be so much introspection, I will discover all the secret meanings of life! And the universe! And my strange, complicated brain!'
In my ideal scenario, I pictured that I would stay home for days on end, frolicking in an introvert's paradise. With only my husband (and the animals) as company, I would get all the alone-time I could handle! In fact, it would be so much alone-time, that I would be excited to see other people, instead of hiding in the house as I'm known to do.
Well.
Well, well, well.
The reality looks laughably different.
Our everyday lives are positively lousy with people: There are the neighbours we see daily and hang out with at least once a week; the carpenter who has been working 5 days a week at our place for the last month and a half; a standing weekly dinner date with a group of guys in our old town (we attend at least twice a month); and a stream of overnight visitors from our old life that at first trickled in, but is getting more frequent now.
Then there are the random guys that Rich attracts like honey attracts flies, guys who pull up in big pickup trucks, wearing suspenders and cowboy hats, asking me politely to see "my old man", to look at animals and talk important men talk.
It seems that every time I shop in town, I recognize more people. They are neighbours, co-workers, people who have worked for us, or patients I have seen at my job. I still do the old 'let's pretend I don't see them, maybe they won't talk to me'-routine on occasion, but more and more, I actually stop and chat! It's a small-town miracle.
Don't get me wrong, after a weekend of having guests, I still need several hours of alone-time to recharge my batteries.
But you know what? I like having all these different people in my life. Having a beer with the fence guys after work, driving 4 hours to share a dinner and laughs with old friends, or stopping and chatting with neighbours is much more fun than I ever thought possible.
I will always cherish my time alone; that's how I'm made.
But spending time with good people is just as rewarding - and makes for better memories.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Life is full of surprises.
xoxo Miriam
P.S. Are you apologizing too much? I think you are. So am I. I made a case against excessive apologizing in my latest newsletter; read it, and stop apologizing!
Guys, something odd is happening. When we moved to the so-called "wilderness", I thought I would see less people than before. Equally apprehensive and excited, I was eager to experience a whole lotta solitude.
'I will live a real writer's life,' I told myself enthusiastically. 'There will be so much introspection, I will discover all the secret meanings of life! And the universe! And my strange, complicated brain!'
In my ideal scenario, I pictured that I would stay home for days on end, frolicking in an introvert's paradise. With only my husband (and the animals) as company, I would get all the alone-time I could handle! In fact, it would be so much alone-time, that I would be excited to see other people, instead of hiding in the house as I'm known to do.
Well.
Well, well, well.
The reality looks laughably different.
Our everyday lives are positively lousy with people: There are the neighbours we see daily and hang out with at least once a week; the carpenter who has been working 5 days a week at our place for the last month and a half; a standing weekly dinner date with a group of guys in our old town (we attend at least twice a month); and a stream of overnight visitors from our old life that at first trickled in, but is getting more frequent now.
Then there are the random guys that Rich attracts like honey attracts flies, guys who pull up in big pickup trucks, wearing suspenders and cowboy hats, asking me politely to see "my old man", to look at animals and talk important men talk.
It seems that every time I shop in town, I recognize more people. They are neighbours, co-workers, people who have worked for us, or patients I have seen at my job. I still do the old 'let's pretend I don't see them, maybe they won't talk to me'-routine on occasion, but more and more, I actually stop and chat! It's a small-town miracle.
Don't get me wrong, after a weekend of having guests, I still need several hours of alone-time to recharge my batteries.
But you know what? I like having all these different people in my life. Having a beer with the fence guys after work, driving 4 hours to share a dinner and laughs with old friends, or stopping and chatting with neighbours is much more fun than I ever thought possible.
I will always cherish my time alone; that's how I'm made.
But spending time with good people is just as rewarding - and makes for better memories.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Life is full of surprises.
xoxo Miriam
P.S. Are you apologizing too much? I think you are. So am I. I made a case against excessive apologizing in my latest newsletter; read it, and stop apologizing!
Welcome to being in a small town! You'll know almost everyone soon enough and won't be able to go anywhere without running into at least 1-3 people who say "hi." I grew up in a town like that and my husband is always so astonished when we go back and go out and do anything that everyone talks to me haha. It can be difficult sometimes but it's also really nice to have that community feeling.
ReplyDeleteIt really is. And if I feel very anti-social one day, I can just hide away on the farm lol!
DeleteThat sounds like so much fun!
ReplyDelete