This evening, I went out for drinks with the owner of an art gallery I started volunteering at recently to talk over some work things. I was telling her about all my apprehensions towards my new job, and she essentially said to me, “You’re good with people, and they need that, so you’ll do great.” That lovely sentiment kind of stopped my brain for a moment because I never expected that she might think I’m good with people.
I don’t think I’m good with people in the slightest. I never say anything smart or interesting in most social situations because I’m better when I have time to reflect and collect my thoughts. I retreat into myself when I meet new people. I’m a smiling robot with three pre-programmed phrases. Eye contact with strangers and people I’m uncomfortable with is unbearable, and in evading it, I can’t help but start to track my eye movements. I try to create a natural pattern. I’ll look at the floor, across the table, over their shoulder, at their face, rinse and repeat.
I’m a censored, measured, jittery version of myself with 95% of people – only the few remaining get to see the real me. And it’s not even my choice! It’s like my brain goes through an instantaneous interview selection process and refuses to inform me on why and how the people I end up myself around have passed.
All this to say, I’m baffled every time I receive a compliment like this and struggle to see it as a good thing. If my mask has gotten convincing enough for me to be told I’m “good with people”, am I ever going to be able to drop it?
But, tonight I was clever. I was creative. I showed her my favourite painting (I’ll add a picture of it), something that’s very personal to me. I tripped over my words a little bit, but for the most part, I articulated myself well. I think I deserved tonight’s compliment, and I refuse to agonize any further on what it means for me.
Love, February