Faye's Boyfriend Replacement: Introvert.

Nearly a whole year of blogging, and I'm back to using this blog for what I intended it for. To fill in the gaps for real social interaction.

New year's eve and I don't want to leave my room. What the freak is wrong with me?!

It's been like this all week. Home from work and all I want to do is sleep, talk on the phone, work on my computer. I don't even want to eat - even though there are a ton of new people to meet here on campus, especially in the cafeteria. I go out and all I want to do is go home. People call me and ask me if I want to do something. Usually, I'm the restless one who can't stand to be in my room and HAVE to have a social activity to feel complete. Now, nobody I really want to see. Nothing I want to do. I don't get it.

I usually feel like this right after a breakup or something emotionally traumatic like that. I can't think of a single reason to be depressed. Am I depressed? I feel pretty happy for the most part. I think.

More frustrating than feeling anti-social is the inability to talk about it.

I forced myself out of my room to meet up with some friends and watch Napoleon Dynamite since I'd never seen it before. Maybe I got the time or venue wrong or something, but they didn't show up and after 15 minutes of not being able to think of anything but wanting going home, I did just that, hoping that quasi-boyfriend would get home from his New Year's Eve fun in New York so I could talk about it and feel better or something.

Haha. What was I thinking?

15-20 mintues later, He popped on Yahoo IM for just long enough to say hi, briefly tell me about the fun things he had that night and that he was leaving to walk his friend home and that he would call soon.

He called another 10 minutes later. I brought the issue up. Said maybe 2 sentences about it. Then got to hear more about his evening. What he was wearing. How his flight went. He told me briefly about how people meet people at dances and then about how tired he was and how I was going to have a GREAT evening out at the dance. Then goodnight.

I guess it's ok that he hadn't realized that I had been crying.

Silly me for thinking that talking to him would miraculously make me feel better. No, really. I feel worse. I feel so stupid. I'm not usually this sensitive. I must just be having a bad night.

I am extremely frustrated with myself. If I wanted to talk about something, I should have just volunteered it. But I don't like to pull the whole "Oh, poor me, can I talk about myself now?" thing when the conversation is light and fun on the other end. The insecurity I feel as a result of these emotions makes it even harder to talk about. There are few people I trust to talk to openly about how I feel. I don't know why I feel that what I have to say is shameful or unimportant and so if I nobody tries to draw it out of me, I chose not to talk about it. Even though I know I really want to.

I want somebody who knows me so well he knows exactly when something is wrong without me having to tell him and will make me talk about it - even if I protest - letting me figure it out on my own without volunteering to fix it or analyze it. Someone who won't pretend it away by changing the subject, or tell me that it's all going to go away as soon as I distract myself. Or that I'd forget about it tomorrow. Or try to make me laugh when I'm trying to cry. All I want is someone there to listen, hold me when I cry, feel sorry for me, and let me know that it's ok for me to feel that way. And that he loves me anyway.

I wonder if I've ever been that person for someone else. Or if I'm the kind of person who always manages to make it about me.

There are few people in this world sensitive enough to know to do just the right thing. So many wives cry silently because their emotions aren't being taken care of. Unable to express themselves, it's a lonely place to be. I am so afraid that I will end up like that. Be 45 and blogging about how my husband doesn't listen and doesn't understand.

I'm being pessimistic tonight, and I apologize. I just don't know what to do with myself right now. I wonder why it is so easy for me to publish such intimate thoughts over the worldwide web where practically everyone I know can read, yet struggle to admit my feelings to one person in private.

I guess I feel like I'm talking to everyone yet no-one at the same time, and I feel safe. Safe from being judged? Safe from an undesirable response? Only people who care would have read this far.

Enough crying. Time to end this post and decide if I want to drag my butt to the dance where everyone else will be, trying to hide the fact that I've just been crying, or to throw a pity party and just go to bed at midnight.

Don't worry, you'll get the real Faye back tomorrow. You always do.