I'm Endearing, B*tch!

Growing up, I realised there were two kinds of kids. The kind that filled a room with adult laughter and delight – and then there was me. I was too much, too chatty and I asked too many questions. 

I induced heavy sighs and complaints from family and teachers alike. My clever jokes were met with awkward stares. I wasn't sure how I was getting it so wrong, so I stopped trying at all. I wore silence like a safety blanket and hid my face in books. In private, I conversed with myself – the only person who understood me perfectly. 

Then the buzzwords 'introvert' and 'extrovert' took over the internet. I consumed hundreds of quizzes, quotes and media content, all confirming the same thing; I was indeed a loner, but that didn't have to be a bad thing. Introverts were cool now, enjoying benefits such as sarcasm and obscure movie references. I'd all but forgotten that my silence wasn't a quirk, but a survival tool. I grew up feeling suppressed by my environment, and now I was doing all the suppressing myself. I used cutesy labels like band-aids over a wound. 

Disclaimer: I'm not questioning the validity of personality tests and temperament analysis. I know that these resources and aides have helped a lot of people understand themselves and improv their tools of communication. What I am saying is, I struggled to be my authentic self and equated this struggle with introversion. It was easier for me to accept that I was made this way than to take the steps towards growth and change. 

Do I say this? Do I say that? Maybe that was too much... Plagued my mind day to day. I considered spontaneous, unplanned outbursts a personal moral failing. I was afraid that people might see the real me and reject her. So I curated my every word and facial expression like an art exhibit. It was me, but refined through a sieve. It was me as I wanted to be perceived. 

Strangely, this further denied me the connection and acceptance I craved. 

But I realised that it was the moments where I was honest, vulnerable and open, that I could experience the deepest joy. Did it mean that I was more susceptible to judgement, cruelty and rejection? Absolutely. But it also meant I was exposed to the most beautiful experiences and meaningful connections. Being my truest, most authentic self might repel the wrong people, but it would attract the right ones. 

My most recent experience of this phenomenon was a recent interview I did for a poetry anthology. As a contributor, I had to participate in a live video on social media, a prospect that terrified me. I quickly ran through all the ways I could present and express myself to sound cool or interesting to anyone listening. 

However, once the interview commenced, a huge smile split my face against my will. And I became interested instead of interesting. I answered the questions earnestly and engaged with my special brand of curiosity and wit. My fear all but melted into a fiery pit. 

The interviewer and I had a great chat afterwards, in which they explained that I was their favourite interview thus far. Amongst other things, they described me as endearing. Not embarrassing, awkward or too much. I was reminded that in the right place with the right people, I was just the right amount. 

The quality of my relationships matters more than the quantity. Do I want to be liked for who I pretend to be, something I would always have to work to earn? Or to be seen and loved for who I truly am? I have a choice: waste time and opportunities living in fear or invest my time in better things – learning and growing, stretching myself beyond what I know.