The paradox of us
By Lonneke — November 24, 2015 05:34 am
Going on an adventure like travelling the world with three young children for a year could be considered a rather outgoing move to make. You can not get any further from any comfortzone imaginable. You're literally out there, in the world.
One could think we must be very outgoing people, but the opposite is true: we're obdurate titmice. Even more complicated: I'm an introvert, coming across as an extravert: I'm not shy, always know what to say, quick with an adroit response, I am an open book and convey a spontaneous and enthousiastic appearance. This is extra challenging, for I generate expectations I can't, or don't want to meet. See, I don't know any other way to conduct myself and I mean everything most sincere, but after interacting with people, I long for some alone time, a long time.
During travelling, coping with all different kinds of situations doesn't come as natural to me as it seems. I have to give myself little pushes, all day long. Somehow I've practised this enough in my life for the action to flow very quickly, no one would notice my hesitation or the deep breath that I take before facing whatever needs to be faced. So I handle everything, adequate and nonchalantly confident. And I am self-assured, it's not a farce, but if I could choose, my primal instinct would be to lay low, to avoid, not to ask. So it's pretty confronting, out here in the world. Sure, at home all kinds of stuff comes up in everyday life, but you can not compare that to figuring out everything from scratch, every day.
Recently I wrote down some musings about the phenomonon comfort (in the sense of convenience) and the deep urge of many to rear this as the highest goal possible. This piece mainly covered the physical aspect, but now I've realized there's also such a thing as mental comfort.
