Confronting My Misanthropic Self

as far back as i can reliably remember, which i would hazard to guess would be about 4 years old, i've been what one would call a misanthrope. a misanthrope, according to dictionary.com, is defined as a person who dislikes or distrusts people in general. a misanthrope is generally introverted and wants to isolate. he feels more at home in the comforts of his own thoughts than in the interactions with others around him.

looking back at my childhood, i find that i would always rather be alone, with my own thoughts, than play and interact with other kids. being an asian immigrant growing up where i did, in the largely african-american part of a poor southern city, some of this isolation was based on real differences and seperation from my peers and others around me. the fact is, i looked different than they did. and in many ways, i acted differently as well. school and studying came easy to me. i did well in school, i didn't cause any trouble, unlike most of the kids around me.

so did growing up the way i did cause me to be misanthropic? to say that this environment CAUSED my misanthropic tendencies is, i think, an over-simplification. it's the age-old debate, nature versus nurture. after doing some thinking on this, i've concluded that those psychological and emotional characteristics of isolationism and introversion were present in me from birth. or at least the tendencies towards those characteristics. the environment just stoked the flames of misanthropy that were already there all along.

there's a story my mom used to tell me a few years back about me as a young 2 or 3 year old toddler. she said that when i used to trip and fall, as most young kids taking those first steps invariably do, i would cry a little to myself, rub the sore bump, and go on my way. she said that i never ran to her crying for help. and when she would try to express her love to me, by hugging and kissing me, i would tense up and recoil from it. even as a young boy.

but i knew something was "off" inside of me. that something felt wrong. there was a general unease... a self-conciousness that most of the other kids around me didn't seem to have. when they were running around throwing pine cones at one another on the elementary school playground, i was off to the side, in a grove of trees, wondering why they did what they did and worrying that one of the pinecones would hit me in the eye and about the chain of events that would unfold from such an accident.

so, there was the 7 year old boy who, on one hand, felt the instinctual urge to bond and socialize with other people, and on the other, did not know of any way to do so. there was no way i could see to bridge the gap that seperated myself from other people. whereas a "normal" child would simply not have to think about this. they would just simply think to themselves, "oh, they're playing, i want to join them." if they would even have to consciously think this at all.

in my teen years, this feeling of isolation felt much more accute. the teen years are the years we feel the strongest draw and identification towards our friends and peer group. still, i felt like the outsider looking in. both wanting to join in and at the same time either being afraid of the rejection of the group, or simultaneously having an attitude of superiority... that i was above petty cliques and classifications.

as i got older, and more set in my ways, i began to accept the fact that i was an introvert. i began isolating not only physically from other people, but emotionally and psychologically as well, through the use of mood altering drugs. the drugs provided for me an even more effective way of isolating myself... i could now isolate me from Me. i could now silence not only the voices of other people, but my own tumultuous inner dialogue.

the cycle was ALMOST completed. i was more isolated now than i'd ever been. there was only one place left to go. the ultimate in seperation from the world...

i was well along that path before i was fortunate enough to be lifted from the grips of that self-annihilation that is drug addiction. once i entered into a sober lifestyle, one of the most important things that i had to relearn was the ability to connect with others and reconnect with myself. i needed to end the isolation and bring myself back to the world. there's a saying in recovery circles that "we can't do this alone." recovery is a "we" thing. fellowship and comradery, as well as one-on-one sponsership, is vital to staying sober once you've put down the drink/drug.

this, of course, did not feel natural nor easy. but i knew it was something i had to do. i was convinced that my life was in shambles and that i needed to do something different. so, again, baby steps... slowly, i began to reenter the world. i began experiencing the joys, the pains, the drama, the emotions, the back-stabbing, the politics, the betrayals, the wonders, the love. it was, and remains, so bittersweet. there's often a since of seeing things or feeling things for the first time.

today, there is still a lot of fear in me when it comes to relating to other people. people still scare me to an extent. i don't know if that'll ever go away completely. i don't know if i'll ever feel that i don't need time to myself, alone. but now, i make a concious effort of balancing those two polarities. i now know that swinging too far towards isolation is a sign that i'm not on the right track and that i'm slipping back towards that frightful abyss. so no matter how much that 7 year old misanthrope in me wants to hide in a grove of trees, i now know that to live a life worth living, i have to run in the playground.