Idea | Differently Social – We Are Not as Alone as They Think We Are
On an internet call with a highly sensitive friend in another country, we commiserated over the wish to have more local friends, and then touched on the challenge of finding them.
We don’t want more of just any type of local friends. We want friends who can listen with full hearts in addition to talking about themselves. We want acceptance and understanding without mainstream labels and assumptions cancelling out our actual experiences. We want morsels of togetherness without constant interruptions.
In countless instances, I’ve felt pressured to participate in being social past the point where I feel overwhelmed. Subtle and overt expectations pull from multiple directions—social (heh) media, open plan workspaces, families, neighbors, mainstream medicine, and more—promoting the idea that if we're not embraced within a close human community, we're somehow less-than, and maybe even won’t live as long.
The message is that social connection is vital to our survival.
I don’t disagree. But I do think quiet, introverted, highly sensitive people experience expanded, other-realms social circles that aren’t acknowledged in the mainstream—that maybe even aren’t acknowledged by our own selves.
Preparing for my morning walk around my long block before work every day, I get excited, hurrying into my shoes and coat, stuffing a snack into a pocket with an impatient hand. The sun is out. The air is fresh and cold. I’m excited, in part, because I get to visit my friends. Today one of my friends hosts an entire flock of chittering little birds. Another tree pal has spread bright red leaves across my path, a welcome boon for my eyes and feet. I love the trees along my route. I admire their finery and seasonal phases. I feel their energy. We commune every day.
A dear friend in a troubled marriage is closer to his cat than to his wife. His long history of befriending creatures—plucking an orphaned newborn squirrel from the lawn to care for until a worthy organization could be found to take over, stopping during a jog to wonder at the snake or the bullfrog at the edge of the path—steadies and feeds him, even when the people in his life let him down.
My living space provides me with another differently social connections. The things in my living room and in my study where I work are far from inanimate to me: the contemplative coziness, my favorite colors, various comforting nooks, the calming art and meaningful trinkets, familial furniture, like my mom’s black desk. The environment of my home gives me acceptance and peace. I feel nourished here. When I clean a floor or dust a shelf, I'm tending to a cherished entitiy. We live together, engaging in an active, palpable, important relationship.
The authors of books we love. A website’s beguiling information. The topics we’re curious about. The research rabbit holes we dive into, breathless as lovers. The museums and bookstores where we find ourselves, finally. The warmth inside a bed with the perfect covers. The first bite of a divine breakfast. The hiking path’s deliverance of the view at the top of the hill. The moon.
We relate in so many ways, all day, every day. Let’s call the connections and comforts we find, whether human or not, our friends. Yes, satisfying human relationships, local or otherwise, provide significant social connections. And, no, that is not the whole story.
The whole story is that it is natural for us to be differently social—different and healthy.
Photo | Sequoia
This young sequoia tree in my neighborhood was planted in 1935, the year my mother was born. It towers over everything else in the vicinity and dwarf's the lot's modest home. To give you a sense of scale, the golden light at the bottom of the photo shines from the home's front porch. On rainy days, the sidewalk beneath the tree remains dry. It's one of my favorite landmarks. Ah. There it is. I'm almost home.
Of course this tree and I are friends.
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Grace Kerina is the author of Personal Boundaries for Highly Sensitive People and other resources for quiet people. She has more than twenty years of experience helping writers and other creators find their true voices. Get her free ebook 7 Liberating Life Hacks for Highly Sensitive People when you subscribe to her newsletter. She also writes novels as Alice Archer.