I’ve recently realized that when I become overly stressed, I completely shut down. Not like, I need a drink shut down, but stay in bed for 36 hours shut down. I only get up for food and bathroom breaks, and even those come seldom when I’m in this state. It made me see how truly of an introvert I am. I have yet to meet another person that doesn’t mind, hell, mostly enjoys, staying alone in the same room for that amount of time. I got to thinking about it, and I soon became self conscious.
Does this mean I’m antisocial?
Am I depressed?
Do I actually have friends? Or am I just fooling myself?
If they’re not my friends, is it because I don’t want to be friends with them? Or is it because I feel like they don’t want to be friends with me?
All of these questions and more flood through my head every time I have a bed binge (30 hours or more in the room, usually watching Netflix). I usually around this time start to feel ashamed of my actions, and might try and make plans. They tend to fall through, or if I do go I feel completely exhausted and unhappy being there.
Thinking now, in a different state of mind (AKA:running on little sleep), I realize this isn’t a bad thing.
No, I’m not antisocial. I enjoy others company, just not all the time. It gets difficult after a while to entertain people for an extended period of time. Seeing as I’m a people pleaser, I tend to go with the flow and let myself get dragged (not in a bad way!) along to different events and social gatherings. Sometimes, even small get togethers can drain me in an instant. That’s when I go on bed binges: to rejuvenate myself for more fun and social things.
No, this doesn’t mean I’m depressed. I know I’m no psychologist or sociologist or psychiatrist or whatever, but I don’t believe that spending this time alone causes me to be depressed. Yes, some days are better than others, but after these bouts of being alone I somehow always feel better when I’m going out with people. Even though I may feel lonely sometimes during my binges, I think that’s what makes me feel so refreshed when I go out with my friends again and see other faces besides the Doctor and his companions. Yeah, some days I truly do think I might have some form of depression, I also think that my bed binges are some small, weird form of medicine that helps me.
Yes, I really do have friends. I have friends both in Texas and in Pittsburgh. I may not always text them or call them, but I know that if I really needed someone, I would be able to confidently turn to someone to help me. I know I don’t always communicate well with them, but I really hope they know I appreciate all of them so very very much. Even more so after I have a binge. I feel sometimes these binges help me to appreciate having them more as well. I’m able to realize when I’m laying bed alone that I care about people and that they care about me too. My bed binges help me to realize truly what good friends I have, and how lucky and blessed I am to have them in my life. I can think about the fun I’ve had with them and all of the memories I’ve collected over the time I’ve spent with them. As I said, I may not be the best texting conversationalist, but I know when I spend quality time with someone, they have some form of appreciation of it as I do.
No, it’s not because I don’t want to be friends with them. And no, it’s not because they don’t want to be my friend. Just because I may be reserved for a day or two doesn’t mean that I don’t want to spend time with them later. Some people need time alone, I just need more than usual. If I didn’t want to be friends with them, then I wouldn’t be. I wouldn’t want to hang out with them. I wouldn’t want to talk with them at all. I know when I don’t want to be friends with people. I know how not to be friends with people. Ive done it before, how wouldn’t I know?! Just because I want a bed binge doesn’t mean I don’t want to be friends with people still. And vice versa. Just because people don’t text or call doesn’t mean they don’t like me. They have other friends too. If they don’t want to be friends with me, then logically they wouldn’t be. They wouldn’t try to hang out with me and they wouldn’t talk to me at all. It would be rather obvious that they didn’t want to be friends with me.
People deal with stress differently. Some like to drink or smoke. Some go out and party with all of their friends. Some do arts and crafts. Some do all three at the same time (talented people, they are). Even though participating in these relieves minor stress for me, my post-stress celebrations usually are reservations for me, myself and I at a bed of one. I shouldn’t be so insecure about all of this, but I always am. Getting all of this out in some sort of writing really helps me sort my thoughts about it and realize that my previously anti-social tendencies are really just stress-relieving rituals. There isn’t anything bad about spending some time with the Doctor.
