Introverts with ADD Get Lonley Too

The Rule: Introverts never get lonely.

The office is quiet today. A little too quiet. It's dark, the halls are empty and no one is in their office... except me. I have a good idea where everybody is. They are working, or playing I don't know the difference, in the new studio. It's a great environment to work in. Your best buddies by your side, side conversations buzzing about the center of the room. Food packed high. There is laughter, joy and solidarity. Ministry walls are coming down at the Newsong staff. Great! But not for us poor introverts with ADD. We need walls so when we work we don't see that YouTube being watched at the work station next us. Or the flood of people gathering at the center of the room leaning back in their chairs, rubbing their bellies, laughing at a joke I just missed because I was distracted at my workstation from a joke at the center of the room. Some people can work great in such conditions. I can't. I must be by myself.

Of course that hurts, but that is my fault and problem. How does an introvert find the balance between social affirmation and solitude? I am still trying to figure that one out.

Writing a daily blog and a book forces me to be isolated more than I am used to. I have to be in conversation with myself more frequently than I have ever been. What I have discovered in this process is:

1. I am a boring guy. I have being hearing myself talk within the contexts of prolific writing for over a month now and I am getting bored of my voice.
2. I am deeply cynical with a bruised heart. My main character has dark, malicious thoughts towards other characters. He is deeply wounded- I think more wounded than any child in most Young Adult books.
3. I am lonely. I have denied adventures, and social gatherings for the sake of my art. I feel like I am fasting from normalcy, but I want to keep going because I know this feeling is normal in writers. I must seek God in this or I'll end up like Hemingway.

Someone once said the greatest journey a hero can take is self-discovery. I am seeing this as I go deeper and deeper into my subconscious. I am pulling away 20 year old scabs, digging through dingy dreams every night, and swatting at irritability and anger at every moment. Where is the holy spirit in this art? Writing is the most freeing enterprise I can think of, but it certainly confines you into your soul, where one is constantly looking at its nastiness. The difficult part is using this gruesome spectacle to create something of meaning and of beauty.

I am thankful for how God created me. I am thankful that he gave me the heart of a writer. I wouldn't change it for any other craft. It gives me joy when at the same time it makes me sad and lonely.

God be praised (I am serious).