While meeting with a couple friends the other day, I was in the span of a minute called both curmudgeonly and warm and friendly. Both I would say are true and accurate. This is the duality of me.

Years of therapy made me face myself, quirks and all. And as I’ve gotten older, I’ve internalized them all and have come to accept and be comfortable (mostly) with all the idiosyncrasies that make me, me.

Emotions Are Weird

In the last few years, I’ve begun to understand one of the reasons why I don’t “do well” with people is that… well… I don’t really understand them. And, by extension, have trouble relating.

The things that seem to interest or excite others I find inane. Sports, celebrity gossip, reality television; these are just some examples. Whatever seems to be “popular” or “hip” in any particular moment is likely completely unknown to me. It happens a lot.

Perhaps even more odd is that I struggle to relate to people emotionally. It’s clear to me now this has likely been a reality my whole life. Though I really only became conscious of it relatively recently. I understand emotional responses, intellectually. But more often than not, I don’t emote the same way in similar circumstances.

So when friends have hard times, I do my best to be there for them and though I may understand what they’re going through and though I may understand how they feel, I struggle to relate. In those moments, the best I can do is listen. Maybe give some advice, but those with whom I’m close, that advice always comes with a caveat: I cannot relate to what you’re feeling.

It’s an awkward experience to be out of step with almost everyone around you.

Small Talk is a Struggle

I really don’t like small talk. This is another reason social interactions can be so taxing for me. Frankly, I just don’t care that much. It’s terrible to say, but it’s the truth. And it’s why I have anxiety about meeting and interacting with new people: reciprocation.

Inevitably, when meeting new people, there’s the exchange of niceties and 20 questions. “Where are you from?” “What do you do for a living?” “Where did you go to school?” Reciprocation is the social contract. So over the years I’ve trained myself to do so. It comes with an energy toll and I don’t think I’m very good at it, but apparently I pull it off: people like me.

So, I appear both curmudgeonly and warm: the duality of me.

Also, this is one of the reasons I’m so bad at remembering names. When I meet new people, I’m so focused on fulfilling my part of the social contract that names aren’t easily retained by my brain. All the tricks with which I’ve trained myself so as not be completely socially awkward comes with a cost. Not always paying close attention to what others are saying to me. It’s a problem I struggle with regularly.

I’m often reminded of the short stint I spent working for my father’s practice. I was there for maybe three months or so. It was a layover for the next part of my life, so I paid little attention to those I worked with. Yet somehow, years later, my father would tell me how those people would speak of me fondly and ask about me.

I couldn’t tell you a single name or pick any of them out of a line-up, but for years they not only remembered me, but they did so fondly. It’s pretty embarrassing, but it is the duality of me.

Confidence With Imposter Syndrome

I love the work I do.

With little social life, no romantic life, and an affinity for home-bound solitude, my job is what gets me out of bed and out of the house daily. It provides me with both purpose and necessary social interaction. And with my work comes another duality of me: I know I’m very good at what I do, but am constantly pestered by fears of inadequacy.

When talking politics, more often than not I speak with passion and authority. On many political topics, I believe strongly what I say is right. My position is the correct one. And in those rare instances I find myself on shaky ground, I say so. I’m confident enough to know the things I don’t know.

This confidence comes with an almost equal measure of self-doubt. In private moments it approaches debilitating levels. It’s helpful that I understand my brain enough to know from where it comes.

This brings me to the next flavor of my duality.

Smiling Depression

This is a term I heard recently, I’m a bit ashamed to say, in a television ad for some medication.

I’d never heard the term before, but am well aware of what it is. The clinical term is dysthymia and it’s something I’ve struggled with off and on my entire life. I’ve written about it here and here.

It’s not something I talk about openly very often. Yes, it’s deeply personal. But more than that, I’m not one for complaining about my lot. It isn’t something I believe has an easy or permanent solution, so I’m not terribly keen to burden others with it. My family knows, but I try not to worry them with it. I have one or two close friends with whom I can talk about it at length, but that’s mostly because in one way or another they understand and don’t try to “fix” me.

Over the years, I’ve developed coping tools and auto-responses for conversations that might otherwise be revealing. As I write about it here, it should be obvious that it’s not something I’m embarrassed about or ashamed of. But it isn’t something I want affecting my work or my professional relationships, so I do my best to keep a tight lid on it in public.

So, I go about my days doing work that brings me genuine joy. But almost always beneath that joy is an undercurrent of sadness.

And so it is; another duality of me.

Acceptance

Obviously, none of this is new to me.

Therapy gave me the tools to self-reflect in a healthy way. To acknowledge the things about me that might be changeable and to accept those things that are not. Though I am on occasion jealous of people who seem to move through life unencumbered by anxiety or self-doubt, I long ago gave up hopes to “be better.”

I imagine most people have aspects of themselves or their lives they wish were different. Better. It’s not necessarily helpful, but context and perspective are both useful tools I try to make use of as often as possible.

In large part, I’m comfortable with who I am and happy with the life I have. Disappointments, flaws, and all. I accept my quirks and oddities. I can laugh about them and joke with friends who know me well. For all of this I also acknowledge that I remain better off than a lot of people and am grateful for that.