Sunday, September 18, 2022

Thinking I Was Wrong Was the Mistake

This memory really wants to be a novel, but for the Poets & Storytellers United challenge I'll try to make it a sonnet. Sort of. A modern sonnet.

Elsewhere on this blog I've shared some stories about times when I made stupid mistakes, through the usual sources of stupidity, carelessness, selfishness, laziness, etc., and had to go back and fix them. Or when it was too late to fix them. Or when I still don't know whether there's a way they could have been fixed, or avoided.

This, however, is a true variation on the classic theme of "I once thought I was wrong--but that was a mistake." 

People my age weren't allowed to celebrate being introverts as the gift it is, when we were young. It actually took me years, even in Washington, to peel back the layers of miseducation and recognize that Highly Sensory Perceptive introverts are my people. That color, ethnicity, age, sex, even religious background have much less influence on my personal relationships than perceptivity has. 

I was unhappy because I was mourning.
Happiness being a duty, not a pleasure,
In that church, the church college whirred with warning.
I ought to change myself, to seek no leisure.
I tried to change myself, without surcease.
I tried to fit into some happy crowd,
Seek popularity instead of peace;
I found the crowds were vulgar, dull, and loud.
Running and running, hamster in its wheel,
I saw how all the people I liked best
Were nagged incessantly for the same reason:
The difference between us and them was real.
I found my tribe, that shining golden season,
And from faultfinders found my lifelong rest. 

14 comments:

  1. I don't think I'm HSP, but definitely an introvert. I can relate so well to the details in your sonnet!

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  2. My daughter has told me she is HSP ,,, therefore everything you shared (including this beautifully composed sonnet) I find fascinating.

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    1. Thank you, Helen! It would be interesting to read your daughter's blog, if she has one.

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  3. Relief from faultfinders, especially ones who insist imposing their world view on yours when it's clearly not needed nor wanted, sounds lovely.

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    1. It is, it really is. The faultfinders escalated to open hostility, but that was better than their hostility-disguised-as-"helping."

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  4. "I found my tribe, that shining golden season,"

    Happy for you

    Much💛love

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  5. I'm so glad you found your tribe, Priscilla. How awful it would be if everyone were extroverts. I'd never go out just to avoid them! :-D

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  6. Growing up, my two best friends were 40-something and 80-something, so... people thought I was weird (like it was a bad thing). My mother, in particular, tried to force me to do "things people my age did". I never did. I preferred my own company, the company of my plants and books.

    Sometimes our tribe is other people. Often times our tribe is us.

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    1. Often true, yes. Thank you for visiting and commenting.

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  7. Beautiful, telling sonnet, Priscilla. Your ending was perfection.

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