Annoyance alert: if you get irked at continuing references to introvertedness, you’ll want to skip this.
I didn’t sleep last night. Not a sliver. New experiences are overwhelming and my brain keeps them for a half-life to churn, digest, absorb. And yesterday I started a new job.
A new job, for an introvert, is like being in a fun house that veers toward scary rather than fun. Fight or flight instinct is ever-employed, I’m hyper-alert and ON, with zero down time. Even alone yesterday, in my cubicle for lunch, I was still overwhelmed by the newness of it, the lighting, the smell (not unpleasant, just new), the possibility that yet another person would pop in to welcome me.
In this fun house for introverts, my body perceives the experience like thus: everyone is a laughing stranger, the lights are whacked, a tin can with two quarters is being shaken right by my ear, the music is super loud, and there’s a 6.2 earthquake. While I’m trying to be poised and smile and remember fifty names and their place in the hierarchy. And, prior to and after, I’m learning a new commute, wary already of new construction and detours.
Each day will bring a slim coating of familiarity here and there, and it will get better. I’m certainly happier to go through this gauntlet than to remain in a job that I had come to dread, but in the meantime I’m finding the noise, chitchat, and protocol of being the only newbie simply exhausting.
I took a walk this morning at 5:30am, a bit of natural valium, and I look forward to the second day, which is not the first day, on the new job.