Coronavirus Diary: The limits of being an introvert

I used to be an extrovert. When I was single, it was rare the night I went home from work, had a meal, and went to bed. I'd stay out, and stay out late -- not always with people, but always in a place where I could be with people.

Getting married didn't change that -- not the desire part, anyway. (Obviously, my habits did.) Having a kid didn't change that. But the surgeries I had in 2011 did.

Going out since then has taken energy. It's been difficult to arse myself to do much but sit on the couch and stare at a computer. Occasionally, I'd get out to have breakfast with a friend. But mostly I stayed home, even to work. I missed my old way of being, but I also didn't know how to be a person among people the way I used to. 

It was kind of depressing.

So. Not a lot changed for me when the pandemic set in. I work at home. I stare at the screen. I eat. I go to sleep.

Somewhere in the last week, though, I've hit my limit. I am desperate for people again. I miss hugging people. I miss enjoying just being around them. I miss conversations. I miss feeling good about having the friends that I have after a conversation.

I'm feeling kind of crazy. I also don't want to die. I hate everything I failed to do when I could do it. And I fear that if I can do it again, I'll go back to not doing it.