I don't do well in big crowds. The bigger it is, the more claustrophobic I feel. When I lived in Cardiff I occasionally found myself strolling innocently into a swarm of bodies entering, or exiting a match or concert at the Millennium Stadium. It's controllable, I'm not prone to panic attacks, but I do feel a sense of pressure, as if I am being squeezed into an area smaller than is comfortable. This is a general preference for a decent amount of personal space. I don't like space invaders!
This therefore extends to enclosed areas with a large group within. Personal space is frequently invaded, albeit inadvertently, often unavoidably. I feel lost within the crowd. It's almost as if I grow blurry and unfocused as more people surround me, and sharper and clearer with less people around.
Yet oddly I do find myself drawn to places where more people will convene. I'm talking urban centres here, not nature. In the great outdoors I'm so happy if I find a place seemingly untouched and uninhabited by humankind. But the opposite is true within an urban setting. Empty streets, alleys and roads are disconcerting. I think it is the expectation that something created and built by humans should not be devoid of their presence. Just as an excess of humans is unsettling to me, an absence of them where they ought to be is unnerving.
Hence I prefer cities that are abuzz at night, to towns that become empty shells. It's a safety thing too. The empty street could become a one on one encounter with a robber.I felt curiously at ease wondering the streets of Manhattan at close to midnight, yet upon returning to Banbury, anything past 10pm seemed potentially threatening. In Auckland City adorable wife and I happily ambled around until late without a care in the world. If we return to Banbury from a visit to Birmingham or Oxford and it's a little late she'll insist on a taxi, rather than the fifteen minute walk home through well-lit streets.
What also makes large groups difficult for me is my instinctual reflection of mannerisms. For reasons known only to my subconscious psyche, I tend to begin to mirror the person I am talking with at any given time. It's probably my coping mechanism, to put both myself and the other person at ease. A defence mechanism you might say, against my shyness. It's not intentional and it's undoubtedly subtle enough that many don't pick up on it. I think it also slips away after a period of time, once I have been able to re-establish my own personae, at a point when I have grown more relaxed.
I consider it a sponge-like ability, kind of soaking up certain aspects of the person I am with and reflecting them back. But it is this that can make being in a group both difficult and tiring for me. When I am one and one with a person, this reflection takes it course without concern and we either end the conversation or I ease back into my own patter in due course. But when in a group of different personalities and different mannerisms, my mind doesn't quite know what to do. It really wants to soak up everything and fire it back out to each respective person, but this is obviously not possible. So I may end up feeling akin to a person with split personalities, trying to be different for everyone, yet trying to do this at the same time. Or more likely, my brain will simply hold up its figurative hands in despair and give up.
That's not to say I can't cope with large groups. It obviously depends how familiar I am with each person. At work for instance, I am within an established hierarchy and feel confident in my position, therefore this can extend to a social environment with my colleagues.
I also have another social trait that sometimes compensates for my shyness, and for my brain going into reflective meltdown. This is the desire to prevent awkward silence. It is the desire to bridge gaps and ensure that if nothing else, we have a laugh. It is the rather foolish desire to please everyone, all the time. Much like my shyness, my crowd claustrophobia and my reflection, it is something that occurs at a subconscious level. It's how, despite actually being backward in coming forward, I end up being the joker of the table, or being the one who steps up to the plate when others aren't keen to do so. I'm the one who will volunteer to lead a team when no one else will. I'm the one to make suggestions when everyone else is silent. But I will never be the first to do this. I won't wave my hand at the first call. I will do it because someone has to and I am not afraid of the responsibility or pressure, just shy to wave and say 'look at me' if I don't have to.
I think we are all people of opposites and extremes. I do notice that often the ones who are loud and brash are the ones who sink into the background silently when a leader is needed or a voice required. The ones who show off all the time are the ones who stutter and stumble over their words when required to present something clearly and concisely.
But I do still feel like the human personification of an oxymoron; hating crowds, but frequently seeking out heavily populated areas. Shy, but working in customer services. Uncomfortable in social situations, yet often the joker in the pack. Nervous to speak up in public, yet often a leader and able to present to a crowd.
But that's who I am. And you will surely have you own personal foibles that you wrestle with on a daily basis. I think we often make the mistake of assuming we are the only one who isn't really sure what the hell we are doing. You look at other folks going about their daily life and they all seem so confident of where they are going, and what they are doing that you wonder what's wrong with you. The answer, of course, is nothing. Nothing is wrong. That uber confident person you just admired probably looked at you and wondered how come you seem so well-adjusted, so content, and cursed themselves for not being as good at life as you.
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