Over the course of my internship, I kept thinking about how much I hate how limiting my personality is. Being reserved has worked out for the most part because I’m usually in the orbit of someone who heavily leans into their extroverted nature. There’s always some sort of balance that allows me to not exhaust myself socially or mentally.
Unfortunately, socializing is really hard for me—and I wish it was in this cute and quirky way, but it’s not. I’ve mentioned it before, but it’s more of a resting bitch face, social anxiety-perceived-as-pompous-arrogance kind of way.
I used to get angry and offended when people said they thought I was some kind of monster (a bitch) before talking to me, because the reality is… I’m always practicing what to say if someone approaches me in the wild (i.e., social gatherings or public spaces). I can’t make small talk—it’s awkward—so I end up staying quiet and reading a book on my phone, because in that moment, the ground cannot swallow me up. I have to exist.
Because of my resting face, people either assume I’m angry or sad—and I hate it. I can’t just paste a smile onto my face to look “approachable.” Who even wants to be smiling 24/7 anyway? But that’s not really my grievance.
My grievance is that the little girl inside me had hopes and dreams about being in certain spaces—and now, as a young adult doing some of the things I once wished for, I realize my younger self didn’t consider that being behind the scenes wouldn’t be sustainable. I have to do the public speaking. I have to do the small talk. I have to network and put myself out there. And I don’t even know where to begin.
I’ve always been content—preferred, even—not to be perceived. If you know me in real life, you’ll see I’m outwardly the opposite of my partner, and most people in my life, really. I prefer to be mute (literally). It would genuinely make me happy to be invisible. It really would, because the process of existing in society is more exhausting than doing the mile run in heels and jeans.
This may sound psychotic, but when I was working, I had to start reading people—to laugh when they laugh, to make myself seem more engaged—even when I didn’t understand what was so funny, or even what was being said. It was day in and day out of putting on this mask, just to make myself look like I can have basic human interaction. Mind you, I probably had the best working environment (for the most part) anyone could ask for. Everyone was so nice. But still, I lost sleep from anxiety. I overthought every single encounter, hoping I didn’t seem like someone who can’t be personable.
Living in my mind is draining. Absolutely draining. And I never gave much thought to how adult me would have to navigate life—because, truthfully, I never saw myself living past 17. Being alive is still a shock on most days.
What I’m starting to realize, though, is that a part of growth is letting go of the expectation that everything should come naturally to you. Some things—like small talk, like being seen—aren’t innate for me. But that doesn’t mean they’re inaccessible. It just means I have to approach them like skills, not personality traits. Things I can learn. Things I can shape.
I’m kind of in the process of learning how to become the person I need to be in order to actualize my dreams and potential. I’m on the spectrum… I said it in many words, because I’m very good at beating around the bush when I want to. But—and not to sound like anything out of a documentary or TED Talk—I can’t use that as an excuse. Or rather, I can’t let it limit me. Life in society is exhausting, but I can’t hide forever. Sadly, no one is that accommodating. I’m glad my inner circle gets me, even makes lighthearted fun of me, so at least I can be as mute or “weird” as I want somewhere.
It’s morphin’ time.
I will learn the art of small talk. I will become personable. I will learn how to network.
This is my goal for the next six months or less. Tips, tricks, and podcasts are all welcomed… I’m just not reading another self-help book, sorry. I’m done with that life!
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