I'm Not Ignoring You, I'm Just Emotionally Exhausted

I am an introvert. 

Many people who know me are surprised to hear this, because I am a social introvert. I like being around people, especially people I know. But I also find it exhausting to be around people, so I need a lot of alone time to recharge my social batteries. My emotional batteries.

And right now, my emotional batteries are also being drained by all the minutiae of life that I'm dealing with. It's been more than eight months since my husband suddenly and unexpectedly passed away, so you would think that the worst of the emotional burden would be in the past. 

But it's not. 

The first couple of months are just a blur. I think I made some phone calls, filled out some forms, paid some bills, dealt with the immediate needs of children and self and home. The next couple of months were filled with lists and organization and financial planning and paperwork. And now, what's left is all the sticky, complicated issues that I'm struggling to deal with. That one bank account that my name wasn't on that I can't figure out how to close. The Google account with decades of family photos that I don't have a password to and don't have the right paperwork to transfer to my name. The Amazon account that controls half of the stuff in my house. That weird quirk of the heating system that makes the basement eighty degrees all the time. The medical account for one of the kids that is not in my name, for some unknown reason. Making sure I know all the autopayments that go on our credit card before I take his name off it and have to get a new number. Making sure that all the two-factor-authentication requirements for everything go to my phone before I disconnect his phone. Getting estimates for replacing the dead fuse on the pool heater and repairing the dead electrical outlet in the back yard and replacing the roof and painting the house and fixing the slow leak in the master bathroom. Starting the process of looking at colleges for my kids. Figuring out how to pay for it all. Getting a job. Getting medical insurance. 

For a lot of people, these issues would be easy to deal with, or at least reasonably straightforward. But for my socially anxious self, each one takes a huge emotional toll on me. Before every phone call, I have to spend an hour psyching myself up, thinking through all the possible conversations and how I would respond, putting together a list of all the information they might ask for, and crying to get it out of my system before I make the call so I won't burst into tears after the inevitable question, "Why are you calling?" and the corresponding answer, "Because my husband passed away." I still can't even bring myself to say the word "died." 

My husband was always my social and emotional buffer. I could deal with larger doses of people when I was with him, because he was so social and gregarious that I could be by his side and enjoy people with less emotional weight, because he carried so much of it so effortlessly. He was my reassurance and my sanity check when my anxiety made me question what I was doing in any circumstance, in any interaction with people. But for me to suddenly carry the whole emotional burden of life is exhausting. I have just enough emotional energy to deal with the practicalities of my life right now, and I don't have much extra to be social. I simply can't do it. 

So I don't.

Not yet, at least. 

Like exercising your muscles, you can't go from lifting a tiny weight directly to lifting a huge one, or you'll get injured. You have to build up your endurance slowly, by taking on a little more than you did the last time, and repeating it a number of times, then a little more, and a little more. You get stronger each time you do a little more.  

So I'm not lifting much social weight right now. I've tried taking on a heavier load a few times, and it was too painful. I overdid it, and I had to take a break and withdraw from all social activities for a bit to let myself recover. And when I was ready to come back, I had lost ground and had to start with even less in reserve than before. 

So if anyone in my life feels like I'm ignoring them, it's not personal. It's just that it's still a lot. It feels like it shouldn't be, but it is. It probably looks like I'm not back to myself, but in fact, I am. I'm just back to my "before" self. Myself before I had someone to help me lift the emotional weight of life. Myself before I had a built-in cheerleader, support system, and Fan Club President. Myself before I was carrying the emotional weight of parenthood. Myself when my emotional muscles were weak, because no-one had pushed me to exercise them. My emotionally atrophied self. 

So please, have patience. Keep inviting me places, but be prepared to accept a "No, thanks" without taking it as a personal affront. Keep checking in with texts or notes that I can address without the pressure of having to respond on the spot. Don't take it personally if I back out at the last minute because I overestimated by emotional reserves. My kids take priority over you, and over me. Sometimes they have an unanticipated need that drains what I had planned to expend on you. 

I'll never be what I was with him, but in time, I'll get back to what I was before him. And in more time, I'll get closer to what I was when I was with him, because I am part of his legacy. He strengthened me, and although I can't get all that strength back alone, he showed me who I can be. 

Just not quite yet.