Until recently, I never viewed my introversion as much of problem. I was told at work that I "need to be more social". This really struck a cord with me because I never thought that as I began my adult life my introversion may limit my success . So I decided to start this blog and chronicle my journey of becoming 'more social'.

Why are you so quiet? He must me hiding something...

Now this is easier said than done of course. My whole life people have been telling me, 'you're so quiet', 'you should talk more' or my new favorite 'be more social'. It's gotten to the point where some people feel uncomfortable around me because I'm so quiet. What is it that makes them so uncomfortable? Is it that my behavior or lack there of, is so unusual they just can't stand it? Is it that I'm some psycho who's going to snap at any moment? Is it the natural human tendency to be afraid of someone who's not like you? Not my problem right? They should be more understanding. Well unfortunately in a world of extroverts it is my problem. As much as I would love to live in a world where everyone accepts each other the way they are, that's just not reality. It's an extroverts world and if I'm going to thrive and not just survive, I've got to get to work and figure something out. So I'm going to be more 'social'. I'm not sure what that will look like, but in the following months, if not years, I will try and look deeper into the complex relationship that introverts and extroverts have and attempt different strategies for becoming more 'social'.

Why is it that quiet people make others feel uncomfortable?

Please share your thoughts.

I'm 19 years old and for my entire life I've been having troubles feeling anything at all. I always thought there was some logical and simple explanation to why I wasn't like everyone else, and I assumed it would heal with time, but it didn't. It just keeps getting worse. First let me begin with that I'm completely unable to open up to other people. I have never opened up. To anyone. If I'm even close to doing it I feel disgusted by myself, I get nausea and an urge to flee. I've also never cared like others. I can't really feel empathy. Or I mean, I can, for like animals and my family, but no one else. I'm literally serious when I say my best friend could die tomorrow and I wouldn't be able to feel a thing. Obviously I'd think it's sad, but it wouldn't effect me on an emotional level.

I hide this part of me, and I certainly don't talk about it with anyone. I want to be normal but I just can't. I have tried to involve myself in other people, in relationships, and even - in my sillier moments - in love. But it doesn't work. Something in me is broken or missing. I love my immediate family, but that's about it. I can lie without feeling any kind of remorse, I manipulate people very easily, and when someone really gets on my bad side, I just attack their weaknesses and break them down with words. It's terrible, I know, but I can't stop. Even as I write it, I know I say it's terrible, but I don't feel terrible. I just know that it's not how a person should act. I could never physically hurt another person, but not because it would make me feel bad but more because I know it's wrong.

My condition is just getting worse, I've started to distance myself from everybody because I feel so tired of wearing a mask and constantly faking to like what they like or play their stupid games. I don't love others. I'm incapable of feeling on a deeper level, there are no strong emotions in me. I feel narcisstic but at the same time I hate myself. I can get furious very easily but it goes away as quickly as it comes. I haven't had such a bad childhood but I mean my mother was going through her hardest part of life when I was a kid, and she took it out on me a lot. Sometimes physically but mostly mentally, such as I constantly heard that I was a bad kid, and bad news, and she blamed me for a lot of stuff that wasn't really my fault. She changed and got so much better when I was like 13 or something and now she's the best mom ever and apologized 200 times but I can't seem to let go. It's stuck with me.. I'm seriously worried that my condition will become worse and something bad will happen... What's wrong with me?

From what I have been told, I was talking and walking by 9 months old. Perhaps it is an exaggeration, but I can attest to the ease I have experienced in school, with dealing with problems, and assessing the “right” behavior in situations.

I have had one imaginary friend, from what I can remember, since I was about two years old. I remember when he first knocked on the door, a back door with a mud room in my house, and I let him in. I would tease my Dad that he was my boy friend. He kept me wonderful company and was an enlightening, safe harbor. I remember another time when someone entered through this same door. I remember that I was handed a stuffed animal by this man, but I cannot recall any more.

When I was seven, I remember feeling sure that I could survive on my own, if only my parents would let me alone. In kindergarten, I could read chapter books and would forge my mother’s signature on the homework list each week. I remember wanting the independence from my mother to moderate my own life.

My favorite thing to do at that time was read. I had a children’s encyclopedia and learned about sexual reproduction in this fashion. I discovered an obsession with looking at Michael Angelo’s “David” sculpture. I would sit and look at it for different durations each day.

Between seven and nine, my parents split up (though, I had suspected it for over a year). At this time I began having very sexual, very vivid dreams. One dream I remember was of my self in a hotel room, seducing a much older, ugly man. I believe between six and seven I was sexually abused again, by the same close friend of my family that had been in my life much earlier, and that I had let into my home through the mud room door. I cannot remember it happening, but I have returned to a certain event when I remember I was alone with this person, and there are blank spots in my memory.

I started touching my self with my dolls or stuffed animals around this time, I don’t really understand why. I would “tell” my sister’s fortune by looking into my crystal ball. Around the same time I stopped feeling normal. When I saw myself in the mirror, I felt an intense, unnatural feeling. It was almost disgust. It increased when I had on feminine clothing. I still feel it, sometimes seemingly random and sometimes by noticeable triggers, to this day.

When I was nine, I realized that my father was not scary. I saw that he would raise his voice to intimidate me- and, I saw that it was just that- and that I was capable of it too. This led me to a strange relationship with aggression. I began to “dominate” my siblings, feel an anger that was confusing and overwhelming. I felt as if something in me was red fire hot, and I had no control over it, nor the ability to stop it, nor the knowledge of how it started. I felt like a victim while I victimized other people. And still, though less frequently and with more control to mask it, I have this sensation of being a puppet. At this time I also began trying to study witch craft and wanted to be a vampire. I would mediate and attempt to make spells.

By the time I was eleven, I was not only participating in on-line sex and wishing to be kissed by a boy at school, but I was finding attendance at school more difficult, as well as having increased bouts with anxiety and depression. This only worsened as I got older. And by fourteen, I was full blown suicidal. My parents attempted to get me help, but the doctors, therapists, teachers, and medication were so easily manipulated that no one could touch me.

I would get into these crazed, raging fits of frustration and aggression. I would yell, scream, shake, cry, weep, sob; I was frightening. I started “cutting” which was mostly scratching. I started messing around with older guys. I started lying and going out and trying to drink/party as much as possible. When my father would have a chance to sit and talk to me, he would try to hug me, but I would yell insults until he would give up. I remember ...

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Hello, I'm a cutter...

Why do I cut? What turned me into a self hater who scars his body and often wants to die?

I'm a 44 year old man who has seen his world fall apart two years ago. I was seriously injured on the job to the point of full disability. I can no longer do the job I lived to do, which was Police work. Add to that the fact that I suffer horrific pain everyday due to my back injury. I have crushed a total of 9 discs in my upper, middle and lower back and have to use a cane to walk.

Not only do I have permanent nerve damage, but as a result I lost function of my bladder and need to urinate with a catheter and a leg bag. I have had several surgeries to include a two level cervical fusion, an interstim implant for my bladder and a Morphine drug pump implant. Despite these surgeries, the Morphine pump and oral pain meds I am still in a great deal of pain all day and night; awake and sleeping. I still have a few more surgeries I must endure in the next year. This physical pain alone is one reason why I cut myself.

Since I don't have any control of the constant pain related to my back injury I at least have control over the pain I endure when I cut myself. I don't scratch myself...when I cut I cut deep and I have scars over 70% of my body. I often cut out of anger or frustration, because I lost my passion for life when I lost my career as a Police Officer. It's extremely difficult to go from being physically able to chase bad guys, make arrests and help others to someone who can barely walk and is in constant pain.

Over the past two years I have gone from a mentally confident and competent person to a mental basket case. Now I must say that prior to my career ending injury I suffered from PTSD and bouts of depression related to my Police experiences while employed by NYPD during 9-11 and survivor's guilt. Also, growing up I would from time to time cut myself. Oh yeah and when I was 13 years old I slit my wrist and OD on medication in an attempt to end my life. It was really tough covering up the huge ass scar on my wrist, especially while applying for work as a Police Officer. I don't regret the scar, I regret the fact that I lived. Looking back I guess there have been many times where I was in harms way and could of, should have died, but didn't. This happened more often of course during my Ten years of Police work. Looking back now I can honestly say that I wanted to be a Police Officer so I could die. Had you asked me while I was still working as a Police Officer I would have said it was so I could help people and save lives.

Anyways, I now suffer from a whole host of mental disorders, such as Major Depressive Disorder, BiPolar Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, PTSD and a couple of other disorders that escape me at this time. I'm taking a handful of medication daily in the hopes of controlling my mental and physical pain.

It's not working, I can't sleep and the urges to cut keep getting stronger. I also envision me cutting my own throat with a knife. I can be sitting on the couch watching a TV show and out of no where I see it...I see the knife in my hand held to my throat. I wonder, is this how I am supposed to die? I always hoped it would be via lead poison ( aka a bullet). No matter, I keep cutting and my wife sees the cuts and scars and naturally freaks out. I'm putting her through hell and that just adds to my anxiety and frustration that often boils over and results in even more cutting! I wish I could post pictures so you can see my scars and know that this is for real. I'm living a nightmare and I'm ashamed of myself for being so weak. Two years ago I was a decent role model for other Officers and the community I lived to protect and serve. Now...now I am suicidal and spend most of my time at home, in pain and alone.

The urges are becoming too great and I'm fast losing any control. My cuts are becoming deeper and deeper. How can I cut out the ugly side of me when...

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Angry, too, need the rules. If you would like to express their outrage, we must carefully choose the words and expressions that you are going to use it. Words can inflict a very strong emotional wound. Always remember that. And even in anger. Even if you are very angry, you should try to remain calm. Then you will be easier to formulate their claims. Do not focus on the process itself. Do not forget in the heat of anger, what you're angry, why are you angry, what goals you want to achieve, expressing their outrage.
You must also show that you are not satisfied with the personality of man, and his specific act or situation, in which he has put you. You should not insult the man. No need to remember all his faults, which are not relevant to the subject of your anger. Moreover, it is impossible to point to some external features of the man.
It is not advisable to show anger towards his boss. You do not reach the wrath of their goals. But you can lose a job.
If you are the boss, then you can afford to be angry at his negligent subordinates. But it is necessary to comply with all regulations. We must not go beyond appearances.
Anger can have different degrees. But the highest degree of your anger should be used very rarely.