When I first went to therapy in my 20s, I thought that therapy would fix me. I thought it could make me into someone who enjoyed parties, who understood small talk and wanted to go out into the world all the time.
In short, I thought therapy could turn me into an extrovert. Could make me fit into the boxes that always somehow failed to be my size.
I was often told I was too sensitive, too intense, too withdrawn, too often in my head.
When I tried to be more involved, I was too boisterous, too rebellious, too opinionated, too loud.
It just seemed like there wasn’t a space for me in the world, so I resolved to become someone else.
I traveled the world, lived and worked at many different jobs in many different places, always thinking that eventually it would stop being so hard. Eventually I would learn to like it.
That eventually never came.
Instead of eventually learning to be someone else, over time I came to like who I actually am.
I’m an introvert, I’m a highly sensitive person, I’m non-binary.
If I don’t fit into your boxes, it’s because you made the boxes wrong, not because there’s anything wrong with me.
If you’re an introvert, congratulations! I’m here to officially tell you that there’s NOTHING wrong with you.
If you’re an extrovert, look around for a minute and notice the introverts that are holding the world together. We’re not the stars of the show, we don’t want the accolades or the spotlight, but we’re here and worthy of your attention.
Most scientists, writers, artists and tech workers are introverts.
We don’t have the energy to do as much as extroverts because we are putting our energy into thinking, feeling and creating.
I don’t need to go to parties, as a writer, I have a whole cast of characters in my head nearly all the time. I create entirely different worlds that are sometimes as real to me as the one I share with you.
This doesn’t mean that I’m crazy, but it does mean that sometimes I need my outer world to be quiet because my inner world is so busy.
I don’t have FOMO. I’m not afraid of missing out on things, because usually those things wouldn’t be fun for me. Parties, amusement parks, arcades, movie theaters are all things that I think of with dread and anxiety.
Instead of FOMO, I am more likely to experience JOMO or the joy of missing out.
This doesn’t mean that I don’t love people and want to be with them.
There are so very many people that I love in this world, I just don’t want to be with them all at the same time (unless we could all be in a forest together, each in our own hammocks, reading our own books, occasionally sharing a thought or idea.)
Meaningful, one-on-one conversations fill up my bucket. Having a chance to connect, to hear and be heard is something I cherish.
In a group, I’m lost and overwhelmed.
The newest label I’ve had thrown my way is that I am a highly sensitive person (HSP), which sounds to me just like a sensitive introvert.
This is a new neuro-divergent label. I don’t take issue with being called an HSP, but I do take
issue with the fact that this is being called neuro-divergent.
Who is the neuro-normal person that I am divergent from? How did that person get to be considered normal? Who is making all these boxes?
Being HSP means I don’t like violent entertainment, loud noises, bright lights, scratchy fabrics, big groups, making mistakes that affect other people.
It also means that I can pick up on the feelings of others, that I can sense how to help other people feel at ease, I’m thoughtful, creative and intuitive.
If these traits make me neuro-divergent what does that say about the neuro-normal people in the world?
In society we need all the people. We need the introverts and the extroverts, we need the leaders and the followers, we need the builders and the creators, we need the realists and the dreamers.
We need to get to a point where we dismantle the boxes, set aside the labels and just appreciate ourselves and each other. We’re all equally worthy of love and respect in whatever role we have to play.
There’s nothing wrong with you being you just as you are.
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