My writing has increased in both frequency and quality, and I am finding it much more therapeutic than before. By remaining anonymous I am able to write honestly, and by making my posts public I am able to share my innermost thoughts and feelings without fear of personal rejection. This is good.

I was thinking about introversion this morning. I have always been an introvert, but it came to my mind that I have not always seen the value of my inwardly-focused personality. In fact, when I was a teenager, I was embarrassed by it. I remember participating in a leadership course for high school students; at one session, we all took the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator. I specifically recall answering the questions dishonestly. I did it for the sole purpose of being labeled as extroverted. I did not understand what introversion and extroversion really meant, I suppose…I did not want to be labeled as shy or antisocial. I wish I had known back then what I know now. I have spent so many years trying to be somebody that I’m not. I still do not fully believe in who I am…I’m so good at being somebody else depending on what the environment around me is like. I can turn on different personalities to suit my best interests at any given time. Somehow, I need to focus on being me. The real me.

Last night, kiddo has an orchestra concert. My parents were there to see her, which was nice. After the event was over I found them talking to somebody that I vaguely recognized. I approached and they introduced me to her – they knew her from church. It was then that I realized who she was; she had harshly criticized me and my coworkers last year during a particularly trying and sensitive time. It was awkward for me, and surely awkward for her as well. She gave me “props” for the way that I had listened back then…I suppose I bear a grudge toward her, because I would have preferred an apology. She, and many others, had thrown a lot of negative emotions at me for something that was clearly out of my control. In any case, I hope that I seem more human to her now. She had seen me as an object, something she could spew her anger at. Now perhaps she will see me as somebody’s son, somebody’s father. Someone who also has feelings and was in a lose-lose situation last year, but who did his best anyway.


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