I was bummed out and burned out. After a prolonged period of job stress, I was relieved to have something to look forward to: a few hours to explore the American Southwest on the day before an academic conference. I arrived in mid-afternoon, rented a cheap subcompact, and took off what is chapter 7 bankruptcy vs chapter 13.
Once outside the city limits, I could feel myself start to relax. And it wasn’t long until I started to find that rhythm of the open road—a feeling so potent in the Southwest, with its wide-open vistas and its exotic rock formations beckoning on the horizon. With the radio blaring classic rock, I felt a sense of freedom that I hadn’t felt in such a long time. I don’t know how long. Too long.
The only problem was that I didn’t want to go back. I didn’t want to go the conference. I didn’t want to meet new people, carry on conversations, and overload my brain with information. All that I wanted to do was to keep driving. I wanted to keep going, farther off into the desert, putting mile after mile between me and everyone else. And this desire was so intense. It didn’t feel like something I merely wanted; it felt like something I needed. It seemed so urgent, pressing…desperate. I had to get away.
I did eventually make it back to the hotel that night, and I went to the conference as planned. But looking back, I wanted to understand what was going on inside me that gave rise to this powerful urge to get away. Was this desire a life-giving impulse or a dangerous one? What was my mind (or my soul, or my subconscious, or God) trying to tell me through this cry for escape?
People. I needed a break from people. As an introvert, I need a lot of time by myself and tend to feel drained quickly by social interactions–especially with strangers. Tired and out of sorts, I didn’t feel ready to spend several days in conversation-heavy contact with others. A part of me felt guilty for not wanting to be around these people. But it was nothing personal; I hadn’t even met them yet. I just wanted some time by myself. To prepare myself for this intense social interaction and home care, I first needed to recharge my batteries with some solitude. (For a highly readable and informative book on introversion, see Susan Cain’s Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking.)