Years ago, I was talking to a man who had just done something very uncharacteristic for him.  When I asked him why, he simply responded, “It’s complicated.” We live in a world where it is easy to make judgments about another person based on very limited observations. His statement was not of the throwaway variety; many things that we do are complicated and don’t always fit others’ expectations. And so it was with the photography club.

Depending on the setting, your impression of me may be completely different.  Yet, they are all me; it’s complicated.

I’m an introvert, but in certain settings you might think I’m an extrovert. I observed what extroverts do, as understanding this was necessary in my professional life, but I’m not one; I just know how to act like one.  It’s complicated. 

I’m also a strange mix of being very confident and, at times, vulnerable.  It’s complicated.

One of my strangest characteristics is my comfort level when dealing with others.  That is very complicated.

Many have an intense fear of public speaking; I do not.  I have lectured and taught at 5 universities.  I have been an assistant clinical professor at three medical schools and have given lectures to audiences ranging from college students to senior attending physicians. I have interacted with and instructed thousands of patients.  Once, I was one of the presenters for a two-day seminar attended by several hundred police officers. Some of the lecturers’ talks were very practical for the audience. For instance, ways to de-escalate an angry suspect or how to deal with a volatile domestic situation.  Topics that the officers could use. Do you know what my talk was about?  The biochemistry of monoamines and their role in addictive behavior!  How is that for a mouthful? Imagine giving that lecture to a bunch of cops, most of whose knowledge of monoamines was likely below zero. However, I had no problem giving the lecture and was told by the conference organizers that the officers gave my lecture the highest rating of the entire conference.  I don’t fear such interactions, and I give them my all.  I know those groups or individuals are asking for my help, so I put on my functional extrovert hat and deliver. In such settings, I actually enjoy the process, but it is exhausting at the same time.  That is the difference between a real extrovert and a functional one.  A real extrovert is energized by intense interactions, a functional one (like me) has to recharge post-event. 

Contrast the above behavior with my personal life.  It is very hard for me to join a group of strangers.  I have some wonderful friends, but do you know that I almost always have waited for them to approach me at the beginning of our friendship?  Further, they had to prove to me that they wanted to be my friend before I committed to the connection. In fact, I can think of only one recent time that I actually asked someone to be my friend.  That was my great friend, Tom. I felt compelled in that instance, and the compulsion exceeded my usual resistance. That connection is especially interesting because on the surface, Tom and I are complete opposites. Why did I do such a risky thing?  It’s complicated.

Am I some arrogant jerk who thinks the world revolves around him and that people need to “earn” my friendship?  Of course not, quite the opposite. I’m happy with my circle of personal connections.  I have my family, my extended family, and my friends.  I will never be a social butterfly.  My limited interaction reflects my concerns rather than arrogance.

I was able to teach myself how to reach out to others in my professional life, but it has been difficult to do so in my private life. Yet, I don’t like to limit myself because of fear.  However, sometimes it is easier to settle into a routine.  This can prevent me from growing.  Remember that my three turn-ons are learning, teaching, and creating. I don’t want my fears to prevent me from those adventures, but it is sometimes easier to say, “I’ll do that tomorrow.”  We all know that tomorrow never arrives.

When it comes to unknown interactions, I worry.  Does that person or group really want me? Am I intruding? Am I talking too much?  Am I not talking enough? Do they wish that I just leave? Did I interrupt a conversation that they were having or about to have with someone else? It creates a lot of anxiety in me, so I tend to avoid such situations.  Add to this a defect I have: it is very hard for me to remember names (I really try), and it is sometimes difficult to recognize people outside situations where I know them.  That is very embarrassing, because I fear the other person thinks I don’t care enough to remember their name, rather than this being a defect of mine (and the rest of my siblings, for that matter). 

I’ve developed new behaviors to address these shortcomings. I have mostly done this through watching my friend, Tom, interact with others.  Honestly, he could talk to a tree and in 5 minutes he would have the tree’s phone number, and they would be sitting down and having coffee. I have had some success, but mostly in casual interactions. What Tom has taught me is that most people are very receptive to interactions. In fact, many are lonely and welcome them. However, I still have a ways to go.

Why am I like this?  I’m sure some of it is personality-based.  Some is from my childhood experience. However, that is still a mystery to me.  I was raised in a time when children were seen but not necessarily heard.  However, I don’t have objective memories of being shut down by others, either at home or at school. In fact, I have always been a person of strong (some may say very strong) opinions, and many have told me that I’m a take-charge type. So, go figure.  I guess it’s complicated.

I have many interests, most of which are shared only by a limited number of others.  One that is a bit more generalized is my love of capturing images. I’m constantly taking pictures.  I love learning about photography.  I love camera equipment.  I love seeing beauty and interest in places where others ignore and walk by.  It really is a passion; it’s complicated.

I have wanted to join a photography club for ages.  What fun it would be to hang with others who share my passion.  I can learn, help others, and be creative in the process. I joined such a group over a decade ago, but it was a massive club, and I was lost in a sea of photographers, each vying for the same image.  I stopped going.

At another time, I was taking photos of a local parade, and a random man approached me and gave me a business card for another photo club. I remember telling Tom that I was going to look into it and kept the business card in my wallet for years. I never acted.  It’s complicated.

A few months ago, I was on YouTube when a random video from a photographer I didn’t know popped up. For some reason, I clicked on it.  Here was a guy talking about going to small towns to take pictures.  That is exactly something that I love doing. I recognized the university logo on his sweatshirt, which was where I earned my undergraduate degree.  I dug a bit deeper and found that he lived not only in Illinois but also not too far from me. A little more digging revealed that he organized a small photography club that met less than 20 minutes from my house.  Was this the answer that I was looking for?  An intervention from above? Small group, similar interests, close by? I hesitated reaching out. Why? It’s complicated.

I decided to use some of the same tricks I would teach patients to move forward. I researched and found the club’s Facebook page to make myself more comfortable.  I told others I was planning to contact him to set this goal as an expectation. I asked to belong to the club via the club’s page, putting the ball in the organizer’s court. Each step required some courage, but each was a baby step, so it was achievable with minimal discomfort on my part. Yet, the process was complicated.

I went to my first meeting, and everyone was incredibly nice and welcoming.  I decided to do something risky.  Instead of silently feeling uncomfortable, I would include the group by telling them I was an introvert and a bit anxious about attending.  Further, I told them that I’m terrible at names, as I don’t want to offend anyone when I will inevitably forget theirs. I’m reviewing the club’s roster to learn the members’ names, at least to the best of my ability.

What is my hope? Well, I feel that this experience is already a win, so I’ll take that.  It would be nice to find a camera travel buddy to go out to places to take photos.  Someone to share conversation and gas expenses.  I wouldn’t mind gaining a friendship or two, or at least a friendly acquaintance or two.  I would like to learn more about photography, but that is surprisingly a lesser goal.  Over the years, I have developed my own style, and I like it.  I always enjoy learning new things, but I don’t want to be a cookie-cutter of someone else. It is more important to me to like my photos than to have others praise them. As I write this, my true goal has appeared to me.  I think the goal would be to share a love of photography with others whom I enjoy and accept, and who feel the same way about me.  Sort of like how I feel with my friends.  A place where I don’t have to be “on” or the smartest person in the room.  A place where I can just be me, flaws and all.  Is that possible? I guess, but it’s complicated.

Dear readers, I’m a purpose-focused person.  Most of the things that I do have some sort of a goal, some of which are nonsensical or trivial. However, the goal of many of my posts is to encourage others to expand or improve their lives.  Too often, we let our fears stand in our way and are left with life regrets.  I would never encourage reckless behavior, but I absolutely encourage reasonable and healthy risks. Life is complicated; let’s just accept that and move on.

Despite being a doctor, I am just a person with some strengths and some weaknesses. I’m a retired guy who is still trying to move forward.  To grow, to become a better self. Why not… Consider doing the same.  I know, it’s complicated.

Peace

Mike