It’s been a strange couple of weeks.
Going into lockdown felt comparatively easy for me. Cancel everything, stay at home. Only go out to exercise or to do essential shopping. No traffic noise, lots of birdsong. Four months later, reversing lockdown feels loud and complex.
It’s been great to have family and friends to visit; good to get a haircut. #GNRsolo runs are fitting into a new schedule of coffee dates and appointments. I have to confess that, some days, I have felt a little overwhelmed by the existence of pre-planned events in the diary.
As a child, I was frequently accused of being too much of an introvert. As if it was something within my control. Self-conscious, I became quieter and retreated to the world of books. The craving for moments of solitude hasn’t gone away. When life gets too busy I still need space and downtime. I’m not a recluse, I enjoy the company of others but I draw my strength from an inner depth. Extroverts can drain me.
I describe myself now as an ambivert. I need time to get in touch with my introvert side, but I’m frequently surprised by the joy of meeting similar souls. Like my school gate friend, Mary. We met for a walk by the river and an open air coffee. She told me that she had willingly sacrificed time alone in an empty house to meet up with me; I felt privileged. We understand each other.