“I hate people,” at least that’s what I tell family I trust not to excommunicate me. I love one person, or maybe two or three. But I hate groups of people. Sometimes it’s just a mild dislike, or even fun for a short period. Sometimes I feel like I’m going to have a panic attack, like in Walmart on Black Friday.
Thanksgiving and Christmas make me feel despicable. What kind of low life doesn’t want to spend time with her grandma and out of town relatives? I mean seriously, how can I be a caring person and hate people? How can I even be a decent Christian?
My husband texts me a picture of how different personalities prepare for Christmas. At least I’m not the only one who dreads the social marathon, but wouldn’t I be a better person if I were more outgoing?
So I try. But then I lie in bed with a headache, dreading the next party. I need to be kind, so I suck it up, take some ibuprofen, and go to the next holiday gathering.
I really do care about how the host will feel if I skip. And I really want to see my relatives, but what’s wrong with a one-on-one coffee date? At least then we could talk about something deeper than the weather. A party is like dodging arrows while trying to talk to someone. It’s tiring, and I feel like I might not make it.
I keep hoping I’ll discover some great epiphany about why God made me this way or something that will make it easier. But I couldn’t write if I wasn’t a recluse. And the best conversations happen one-on-one.
I guess it’d be nicer to say I hate crowds instead of people. I really care about you and am excited to see you. I do want to actually talk to you. Deep conversations are one of my favorite things in the world. Besides writing (oh, and doing nothing), they’re really my only hobby.
When I seem like I hate people, just know I love you. I want to get to know you somewhere quieter than the war zone chaos of a crowd.
If you’re up for a deep conversation in a quiet place, I’d love to have one. That’s really why I started writing. I want to hear your story. And if you let me, I’d love to share it. Luckily, not everyone is like me. Your story could reach an outgoing person, while mine would be alien to him.
Your joys, struggles, and relationship with God are more powerful than any devotional. There’s really nothing like a first-person story of what God is doing or teaching you. Jesus told stories, and Revelations says we win the war by our testimonies.
In the parties I can’t hear your stories, but in the one-on-one I can. I’m not sure if I’d be a better person if I was more social, but I know I could never write. I want to hear what God’s doing in your life. Let’s have coffee.
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