I have alluded before to my general anti-social nature, but, to a certain extent, I exaggerate.  There are a number of regular contacts that I generally keep a running conversation with, and I have friendships that have attained family status in their longevity and intimacy.  I rarely initiate conversation, but when approached, I can be more than chatty.  In fact, as a general rule I am fairly verbose.  My circle of friends tends to the small, but close.

And there are all you dear folks out there, who I know by face, name or just writing style, who have followed me on this journey in “My Level of Awareness”.  I treasure every comment, even though I don’t always respond.  I’m just shy that way.   But lately my reticence for interaction has nothing to do with my inherent introversion. 

Then again, maybe it does.

As I look over my life, I take a certain level of pride in my resilience.  I have survived a lot, and survived it with scars of pride rather than permanent wounds.  But right now,  I am going through times in my life where that resilience is being tested and I am not the kind of person that is “into” sharing that kind of pain.  And my closed circle has commented on my sudden disappearance from their midst.

I am a person who draws pain inward and curls around it and does my best to own it, to master it, and to pass through it.  This leaves me with little energy to reach outward and touch fingertips with those that I love.  There are those who hold my hand through the dark – you know who you are.  But for the main, I prefer the quiet of isolation to sort my way through the night.

It takes the starch right out of me.

I guess what I am saying is, no, I don’t want to talk about it.  But don’t take it personally.  Be patient.

I am still here.