I'm quiet and perfectly fine with it.

I read a chapter about Psychiatry and I'm relieved to learn that being an introvert is not a personality disorder. I've read a few articles about introversion online and I find that some of the things introverts do at great length to avoid people or recharge their batteries are quite funny. I'm not at the point yet, where I have to hide in the bathroom just to avoid talking to anyone. The first time I've heard the word introvert was, I think when I was in high school. Back then, it sounded odd to me and sort of reinforced my deep-seated suspicion that there must be something psychologically wrong with me. As a kid, I was not the type that needed to be always around with other kids, to be entertained. I used to play with these paper cut-outs of people (which I made myself ) and created a monologue while I play with them. One day, when my grandmother heard me talking to myself, it prompted serious concern from her. She must have thought I was going cuckoo. At her behest, my mother kept a close watch on me for a day and when she was satisfied that I’m perfectly sane, they left me alone. 

 I often wonder why I can’t just be like others who seem to have always something to say about everything there is. Growing up, I was told that I’m shy and have no people skills or personality and that I wouldn't amount to anything. Like, how I’m supposed to get anywhere if I don’t know how to talk to people. One time, when I used to live in a dormitory, one of the girls made a comment that I am autistic. Of course, she didn't say it to my face.  I wondered what made her come up with that remark, then I realized  later on, that it was because I don't hang out with their group and make small talk. On another occasion, I was told I'm anti-social, for the same reason. 

I used to be bothered when I heard comments about me being shy or quiet. I feel uncomfortable when attention is directed at me. Sometimes, I wish I'm invisible, so then no one will notice me and I'm spared from replying to questions like, "Why are you so quiet?" or "Are you okay?" Early on, I know I'm different. Not weird different, just different. And I'm okay with it. But the thing is, I have to be out there so I need to adjust and compromise, when necessary.

"Don't underestimate me because I'm quiet. I know more than I say, think more than I speak and observe more than you know." - Michaela Chung

For some reasons, I do try to fit in. But I can’t just bring myself to talk just for the sake of talking. I prefer to observe and listen. And I can be a good sounding board too. But just because I'm quiet doesn't mean I don't know how to talk or don't want to talk. Given the right topics, probably I'd talk for hours until someone will tell me to shut up. 

Being around with a lot of people is an ordeal for me. Not that I dislike people per se, it’s just that after a while, they become too loud and noisy. And it tires me out.  It’s for this reason that it only takes half an hour max before I start to fidget and complain to my sister, whenever we’re in the mall. And almost always, she tells me to go find a place where I can have coffee and sit, while I wait for her.

"What a commentary on our civilization, when being alone is considered suspect; when one has to apologize for it, make excuses, hide the fact that one practices it like a secret vice!"- Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Some people think that if you’re quiet, it’s either because you’re dumb or shy or whatever word they can come up with. Or socially inept. I don't really think that I'm quiet. I mean, it's not something I put on or take off, like a piece of clothing. Or some sort of mechanism that I can switch on or off. It's part of me. It is me. To pretend otherwise is pointless and detrimental to my well-being. 

Yes, I like to be alone, most of the time and do whatever it is I love doing, like read a book or do the crossword or watch TV. But from time to time, I like some company too. I don't mind hanging out with my sister ( which we don't get to do much ) even if we always end up at the mall because its her "favorite" place. Or go for a hike with Rita and Janet. Or go to the book club meeting. ( Its like killing two birds with one stone, socialize and talk about books. Or should I say, four birds, counting the wine and all the food.)

So anyway, in the off-chance that you see me, staring out into space or have this zoned out look in my face, pay it no mind because I do it often. There's just a lot of stuff going on in my head. And it's just me, being me. :-)

Philomena

I don't usually write my thoughts about a book I've just read. But I made an exception for Philomena. As much as possible, I try to keep an open mind  when I read a book, recommended or suggested by someone. The book club gives me the opportunity to read books that otherwise I won't read or even hear of. Its great that Rita loves to read too and don't mind taking me along to their book club meetings. And the ladies are nice.

Reading "Philomena" stirred emotions in me that I haven't thought about in a long time. It touches on the subject of religion, for one. I am a non-practicing Roman Catholic but I was raised as one. I remember the times when I reluctantly went with my grandmother to hear mass on Sundays at four in the morning. I'd sit there in church, half-asleep and didn't really understand what was going on. I grew up on talks about eternity in hell if I commit sins. Later on, as I got older, I started to ask questions and refused to go to church. At some point, probably out of exasperation, my grandmother called me a heathen. I was sure I disappointed her but I know that she doted on me till the day she passed away. I also have had first-hand experience with nuns. I went to a Catholic school in my secondary years. And during my first year in university, I lived in a dormitory run by nuns. While I was there, I did crazy stuff, like hide under my bed when it was time to say the rosary. I even come close to being kick out from the dormitory because I got drunk. But I didn't feel bad that I break the rules, I was more embarrassed when my father had to come and had a talk with one of the nuns. When I think about it now, all I can say is that, things back then were not really what they purport to be. And belief in God is not just about going to church.

Babies born out of wedlock is not  foreign to me. I have three younger sisters who got pregnant and they never heard from the guys again. My nieces and nephews don't know their fathers. When I first learned about my sisters' predicament, I was angry at them for being stupid. Then, the babies came. I realized that I could not be mad at them too and act as if I don't care. It wasn't the babies fault and they didn't ask for it. Sure, another mouth to fed put more strain on our family's meager resources, but to abandon the babies was not an option. My sisters were lucky, they didn't have to go through what Philomena did.  A few months ago, I had the chance to go home for a short visit and I was amazed at how my nieces and nephews have grown, in the past four years I was away. Amid the chaos and noise in our big family, I know they'll be fine. I think we made the right decision to keep them, besides it would break my mother's heart if they were taken away.

I can relate to Mike's need to belong and have the affirmation from the people he cares about. Sometimes, I wonder if I do things just to be in good terms with my family. That if I do something contrary to what they expect of me, I'll disappoint them. Fortunately, my mother never pressured me to do something I don't like. She told me once, that she knows I'll always do the right thing. And I try to.

Anyway, I like to read books that make me think. And Philomena is one of them. It made me think. Probably way too much, I end up writing this post.