Over the past month I’ve realized several things about myself. Things which I’m going to process through real quick for your reading enjoyment.
Don’t touch me softly
I’ve long been a fan of minimal physical contact. With everyone. Family, customers, friends, neighbors, strangers, athletes, fictional characters, nonfictional characters–it doesn’t matter, don’t touch me.
However, sometimes when people touch me it doesn’t bother me as much. Come up behind me and give me a brief, sort-of painful shoulder rub? I actually don’t mind. Firmly pat me on the back as you walk by? Meh, sure whatever. Caress my arm and say it’s good to see me? No.
What (I think) I realized is that if you touch me softly, I will hate it. If you are firm about it, it might not ruin my day.
I’m so urban
Sure, I grew up in Hillsboro. Yes, Portland does intimidate me still a little bit. And also yes, Portland is not that urban. But still I’m showing great signs of improvement:
- I don’t get (as) stressed when I have to drive around Portland anymore.
- Parallel parking on fleek rn.
- I know where 20-25% of the restaurants, coffee shops, and bars are in Portland.
- I only get lost 10% of the time while driving in Portland.
- Sometimes I don’t have to use GPS!
- My clothes don’t give off as many basic suburban vibes.
My social interaction limit is still mysterious to me
I know I’m an introvert. I know I need alone time to recharge. But what I never realize is when I need to escape a social situation to recharge.
All of a sudden my social gas tank will be empty and I will shut down and not understand why. Some of my close friends can recognize the symptoms and maybe guess what is going on, but I never can.
For example, the other night was a work party. It was really fun, there was bowling (ew), music, pizza, and… okay I was really most excited about the pizza. Anyway, it was really fun, and the party was still going strong, but all of a sudden, I found myself sitting down, zoning out, and realizing how much I wanted to go home.
So, I stood up, walked out the door, got into my car and drove off, without saying a thing to anyone. No goodbyes. No nothing. (Actually I did get a piece of pizza in a to-go box on my way out.)
It wasn’t until the next morning where I replayed the scene in my head and realized how hard I hit that social wall.
Every. Single. Time.
I have recovered from my chronic need for cupcakes
For a span of 8-10 months last year, I constantly wanted a cupcake. Always. And I didn’t know why. I would just be sitting there, minding my own business and then CUPCAKE I NEED A CUPCAKE PLZ HELP.
That was a weird stage of life and I’m happy to say I’ve recovered.