I have missed this space, me.

Remember to actually use it, me.

Marlon Brando: “Most people are simply getting over bad emotional habits established in the first ten years of their life.”

— § —

I sometimes wonder about the relationship between introversion/extroversion and childhood.

I’m an introvert. I’m not at all shy. I’ll talk to anybody, anytime. I’ve done television, radio, and years in classrooms, kids and adults. Longest classes I ever taught were six hours a day every day of the week, college level. Not a hint of stage fright.

Just in case you made that most common of assumptions about introverts.

But I am, in fact, an introvert. If there’s not a “reason” to speak (say, a classroom situation), I tend to be silent. I don’t share what comes to mind. In fact, it’s as though sharing and coming to mind are in different parts of my brain. When things come to mind, sharing is the farthest thing from my mind. When I’m ordered to share, absolutely nothing comes to mind.

— § —

I wasn’t always this way.

In fact, as I child, I was the exact opposite. I externalized everything. I was like a Tourette’s robot. Anything that entered my mind left immediately via my mouth and limbs, with gusto and joi de vivre.

All of this was, however, much to the chagrin of my parents, who absolutely could not cope with it. I was chastised heavily and continuously for years for not being calm and quiet.

And now—I am calm and quiet.

— § —

Of course, now that I’m in adulthood, this doesn’t serve me well. People want to be able to carry on a conversation, make smalltalk about things that are not Functional Matters At Hand. I find it impossible to do this. Everything that issues forth is now, without fail, task-oriented.

Strangely, I can write about this and that all day. I just can’t speak about it, particularly if near someone else. When others are near, “this and that” simply disappears from my mind. No fear. No shyness. Just blank slate, tabula rasa apart from utilitarian exchanges. It’s as though there’s a wall between my speech and thought centers that simply cannot be breached.

I sit in silent envy as others do the “Oh, did I tell you what happened to me yesterday?” performance. Because I simply can’t do it. Write? Yes. Speak one-on-one? No.

— § —

Would I have been this way by adulthood regardless, or does this result from an entire childhood of being told to Be Quiet For God’s Sake And Stop Talking About Nonsense For Just One Minute Please?

I wonder.

It makes me want to say: Be careful what you wish for. You might not get your silent child in time to have a quiet evening, but I wonder if you’ll end up with a silent adult child that will never, ever share with you about their day—despite your wishing they’d tell you, now that they live a completely separate life.

Kids are here. Mom brought them over early, then went to work. I miss her.

— § —

I have to constantly reparent myself right now. It’s like I’ve regressed to being a teenager. I know how and what I ought to think and do, but in the moment, I often can’t get there these days. Too many raw things, too much that matters to me.

— § —

I’m not ready for the new year. I’m not ready for the work week. I’m not ready for a lot of things right now.

For a while I thought that I just needed some time alone, but right now every time I get time alone, all I do is sit with it. I don’t do things, I don’t really make mental or emotional progress. I just wait. It’s like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.

This is not a particularly healthy or productive strategy.

— § —

I hope I don’t still have a mid-life crisis coming ahead. I know that men are supposed to have them, but this is crisis enough for me.

For a while I thought about trading in the Volvo wagon for something mid-life-crisis-y like a used BMW 3-series, but I didn’t. I did buy a new wristwatch (an Orient military) and switch back to using Old Spice classic. Does that count?

I look around right now and I’m just plain mystified by my life. I don’t know what to make of it.

I think I am subconsciously building the courage and reserves for the big changes that must lie ahead, but consciously, I am in a kind of personal stasis.

Mostly what I do right now is love and miss my wife, feed my kids when I have them, try to keep the work ball rolling, and try to keep myself and the house clean. Anything beyond that seems insurmountable right now.

That’s tough because it’s not the me I’m accustomed to. I’m accustomed to feeling as though I can do anything. Confidence. Determination. And forward progress. Right now, I don’t feel these things and I don’t really feel as if I can accomplish them.

— § —

What I need to do is take some concrete steps. And soon. I think.

But sometimes it’s hard to have the courage to step off into the empty space of the future.