I've got permanent bags under my eyes. This is mostly owed to my larger than average eye sockets, but partly because I'm always staying up past my bedtime. I've been putting thought into why I'm constantly giving myself insufficient sleep for no good reason, and this is what I've got: I'm good looking. I'm smart. I'm funny. People want to be around me, and I tend to attract them easily. But even around family, I have a baseline level of discomfort. If I spend too much time with someone, I accumulate a nauseated feeling in my stomach that's only relieved by periods of solitude. Night is the perfect time, because everyone else is gone. They're asleep or they're kindred spirits and don't expect my acknowledgement any more than I want theirs. I love what nighttime sounds like. Even the highway by my house is silent but for the perfectly digestible sound of one or two cars pushing like boats through a river of asphalt. The night is so still that the sound of my parent's antique modem clicking away in the kitchen can be heard clearly from the carpeted living room. The TV is on, and although I've muted the late-night advertisement for a new and innovative CPAP machine, I can still hear the small whine of static electricity arcing from red to green to blue. This small whine is overwhelming. I can smell it if I focus on it. It smells like hot dust. If I'm feeling particularly aspirational, I know that birdsong will eclipse the modem and the pixels when the sun stretches its first amber fingers and brushes their tips over the roofs of my neighborhood. 'Alone' to me means 'relaxed.' People bring tension, and they take me from my thoughts. I'm still sussing out the underlying reasons here, but that's the basic phenomenon - I can only relax on my own, and I'm always alone at night. I think for now a simple description of the phenomenon is good enough. I'll keep sussing, and maybe I'll bring you an epiphany next week.
I love driving at night because the roads are entirely empty and everything is still but you. There's no pressure to drive fast or drive slow. Even at 25mph, you're going to feel like scissors gliding through the fabric of the night. Traffic lights watch you in their cyclical commands of stop, start, and slow - a process you'd narcissistically assumed was for your benefit. What a reality check to see those luminous sentries issuing orders to an empty intersection just the same! (lol forgive my purple prose y'all, I'm having fun writing something that isn't code) I'm not surprised that this post resonated with so many people. I think there's something that connects people like us (read: people who naturally washed up on the shores of this niche forum) , some shared solace we take when the rest of the world melts away. I'd bet that most people willing to pour so much of their mental and emotional bandwidth into an online community can relate to the idea, for one reason or another I completely agree with your thoughts here, nil. I think we could all allow more time for wandering thoughts! I used to do this in the shower until I became concerned for my water bill and the rapidly depleting aquifer underneath me. Maybe make it a goal for a week, see how it treats you?It's solitude but it also felt like an absolute escape from literally everything. I figure the best way to deal with it for me is to make more time for wandering thoughts.
This has me pondering my own ability/inability to be around people. Like you, I have a usual list of things that make me fun to be around, and I really enjoy being around people. However, I find it absolutely draining. I will actively seek out interaction, and enjoy being sought out. But once the interaction is done, I feel like my brain has run a half-marathon and all I want to do is get to an area devoid of people. This feeling doesn't kick in during any social setting, it only happens once I get home or I find myself alone after seeing someone, so I don't suddenly want to be alone but... When I find myself alone after socializing it's like I can breathe again yet am also tired. I've always found it strange that I have this "breathe again" sense - having it sort of implies to me that what I was doing was stressful and tense, yet I certainly don't feel that way around people. It doesn't last long. I'm usually fine later in the day but I think I've always been tied up in the idea of extrovert vs introvert and the inaccurate definition I held for many years. I thought an extrovert was outgoing and loud, boisterous and craved to be the centre of attention, whereas an introvert hated these things and was a quiet, withdrawn person. But apparently, it's more to do with how you handle social situations - with an extrovert being energized by interaction, and an introvert preferring their own space. I feel a little in limbo - I love interacting with people, but I feel drained doing so. I operate poorly by myself for extended periods, but it doesn't take a toll on me like interaction does. If I'm honest with myself, I'd rather be drained and sociable than full of potential energy but with solitude to direct it at.
I can relate to this extremely well. It's like as soon as I'm alone and know that I'm going to go unbothered if I want to be, I literally heave a sigh of relief. It's a good feeling, I think! Part of me wonders how much of this is just part of the human experience, but it goes undiscussed enough that neither of us have realized it before? Either way, your comment is really resonating right now. I like people a lot, but my nature is to isolate.When I find myself alone after socializing it's like I can breathe again yet am also tired. I've always found it strange that I have this "breathe again" sense - having it sort of implies to me that what I was doing was stressful and tense, yet I certainly don't feel that way around people.