COVID and the inner introvert

Pre-COVID, I thought I was an extrovert. It took a plague to kill that delusion. Not having to perform in the world of face to face interactions was a relief. I felt I no longer had to hold my inner breath anymore.

I could admit to myself the insanity of the commute. Why go to a room in another part of the city to access online tools I could log in to from anywhere. The relief of not going to OGA/OBA dinner dances with deafening noise, drunk people and heavy food.

I didn’t realise even private gatherings were a chore. Where the women competed with stories of uncomfortable medical procedures. The men going on about the buggers at work or the buggers they knew in school. Gossip about who was having affairs with who was interesting at first. That, too, settled into its depressing pattern.

There might have been the occasion where I had an enlightening discussion about Clausewitz and Sun Tzu. Or the nature of global trade in ancient times. Perhaps speculation on how the irrigation works during the Anuradhapura period was managed. However, the reality was that no such conversations ever took place outside my head.

I had become good at putting with all this. I knew how to ask leading questions. Got status despite my bad photography. So I didn’t have to do a lot of talking. It had the benefit of adding a few linked in contacts now and then. I even decided that I enjoyed it.

The shocking part of the lockdown was the relief I felt in not having to deal with all that. I’d rather say home and read a book. Or make/create something rather than “party”. It took a plague and global misery to make me see a denied aspect of myself. Yet, it continues to save me. Perhaps the only flickers of positiveness in the greater darkness we are in.

Thank you for reading this far. May you have a happy new year, and 2022 be better than any year before.

Has COVID brought out your inner introvert as well? The comment box as ever awaits your insights.