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When I went away to college, I wanted to become a different person. A person who was outgoing, had lots of friends, was more comfortable in her own skin. I even briefly contemplated going by my middle name - Kay. Or Katie. Katie sounded bubbly and fun!
I didn't actually try going by another name. And I have many great qualities, but I will never be described as bubbly. Scratch that. I can play the part - an interviewer made a comment once that I'd fit in well at the job because I was very outgoing - leaving me feeling pretty smug that I successfully pulled the wool over her eyes. I got the job.
The personality I have doesn't need to be changed. I am quiet until you get to know me (then you can't shut me up). I prefer to be a wall flower in group situations. I'm sarcastic with a dry sense of humor (surprise, surprise). I am sensitive and empathetic to a fault. (My therapist, who I've been seeing since my last pregnancy loss, constantly has to remind me that not everyone is as attuned to others' feelings as I am.) I am too fond of parentheses, obviously! I am a classic introvert: preferring small groups to big parties, having a few really close friends, needing plenty of alone time to recharge, and gritting my teeth and chatting with strangers through cocktail parties with no outward sign that I'm dying to escape. I have a suspicion that many bloggers share those characteristics with me.
I entered the world of social media - twitter followed by blogging - with no agenda other than to connect with people who understood the trauma of recurrent pregnancy loss. I had no plans to remake myself this time around.
And yet often I feel as though I'm doing something wrong. The longer I blog and use twitter, the more I have the perception that everybody else has formed dozens of close relationships - they skype, they text, they gchat, they mail each other crafty homemade presents "just because." I don't do that. I feel left out sometimes. I wonder whether I'm missing opportunities. Whether they don't happen because I'm too private or because I don't take the first step in reaching out or because people just don't like me as much as I like them? People I've never met are as much my real friends as anyone I know in real life, but I'm less secure about these friendships. I feel awkward when I reach out and it's not reciprocated. On the other hand, I've met a few people from the online world in person. It was fun. We clicked. We email and meet in person when possible.
What I'm starting to grasp - which I hadn't even thought of until exchanging some tweets with Esperanza from Stumbling Gracefully recently - is that my real life introversion is mirrored in my social media life. I tweet - but not as often as most others. Just a quick log in and out a few times per day. I blog - but only once a week. I don't have the time or, um, verbosity to do any more than that. I connect - but usually only after someone reaches out to me first. (I'm also thwarted by my desire to remain quasi-anonymous online and my agency's no-blogging-about-adoption ban.) I'm a little disappointed that my introversion followed me online.
Instead of wishing my social media experience was more like my perception of everyone else's, I'm going to accept that I am who I am. And I am a person who genuinely cares about the people whose lives I spend my limited free time reading about. I am a person whose feelings are hurt for days when someone on twitter unceremoniously dumps me after a year of interacting with her (ahem). Although meaningful connection is the purpose of my online presence, I've seen some of you write about how that is incidental, or just an unintended benefit, of your blog. The "social" in social media can take different forms without indicating failure.
So, I'm going to keep supporting the people I follow, avoiding the bullying I sadly sometimes see in the online Adoption, Infertility, Loss community (a post for another day), and blogging for my own therapy. Because I like who I am. I think you'd like me too.
You know who else I
