FIRST PERSON | Me, myself and my cats: As an introvert, extended socializing with humans can be a drag | CBC News

This First Person column is the experience of Adeline Panamaroff, who lives in Edmonton. For more information about CBC’s First Person stories, please see the FAQ.

We’d finally made it into the car after having hustled my sister along when she was dithering over whether to make lunch or get takeout on the road. For the sake of speed, I’d voted for takeout from a drive-thru. Taco Time, here we come!

This was in August when I had gone back to my hometown of Saskatoon for a friend’s funeral. I had originally planned a quick, three-day trip — one day to get there, one day for the gathering and one day to travel back. Somewhere along the way, these plans got extended to almost a week. 

By the time we were debating lunch options, I had already spent four days with various members of my family, including my very extroverted sister, introverted-but-still chatty mom and dull brother-in-law. After an overnight detour to Meadow Lake, Sask., to drop off one of my niblings (the non-binary term for my sister’s children) at their summer job, we pulled out of the Taco Time and headed for Edmonton, another four- to six-hour drive depending on stops. 

I am an introvert and have had what some call “low social stamina” for as long as I can remember. Long social gatherings are often a bore for me; after three or four hours, I am ready to get on with getting on. 

I had been suffering from a social overdose for more than a day but couldn’t get away from people who wanted to keep up the conversation to keep themselves entertained. This whole trip, I had been missing my cats, having them sleep with me, sitting hip-to-hip with me and being my social equals. 

Low demand and low maintenance, cats make the best people.

Minding my social limits

To be an introvert means I would rather quietly listen rather than take part in conversations, maybe even to sit alone in crowded social gatherings. Talking with people one-on-one tends to be more comfortable than with three or more. Plus introverts tend to need large amounts of time alone to re-energize after a social gathering. 

I realized by Grade 2 or 3 that I was not actively participating with the other kids in the playground and preferred to stick to the few that I knew really well. My family generally accepted my behaviour and it was fine in school until Grade 7. My teacher at the time, who had also taught my older sisters, did not understand my needs and sent me to a school psychologist to see what was wrong. 

It turns out there was nothing wrong. I just would rather sit in the library at recess and read rather than play hockey or baseball.

After seeing a series of school counsellors and psychologists into my adulthood, I have come to understand what I need to balance my social needs and my personal energy levels. 

In over 40 years, I’ve learned coping strategies to help me get through social situations. A craft project can keep part of my brain occupied while letting me half-listen to a conversation. A book to read during lulls in the conversation also provides opportunities to zone out from the company. And most importantly, plan ahead to keep a visit short. 

But this Saskatchewan trip had gotten out of hand for me before I even started out. 

Cats make the best people

My cats are my emotional refuge. After so much time with my familial entourage, I was looking forward to seeing my fur babies again. 

I have had three cats — one now deceased. All have been my peaceful sanctuary when I am freed from social obligations that can be energy draining if they last too long. 

Button, a cheery tabby girl of one year, is always up for play or an outdoor adventure, while Tula, the grumpy tuxedo girl of 15, is more apt to cuddle. My first cat Coraline, who I had for 18 years, loved to sit with me on our deck, watching the birds come and go. She was an opinionated girl who would hold long conversations with me.

Cats are on my social level. They do not put up a social facade and you know where you stand with them at all times. Unlike dogs, they need as much alone time as I do.

Having a cat quietly sitting by my side is pure emotional heaven. I often sit on my deck, among my small tree nursery and disorderly herb and flower garden, as I write, read, process fruit or work on crafting over a cup of catnip tea while watching my kitty cats hunt butterflies, grasshoppers and slugs. While enduring that week-long visit, I knew that garden respite with my cats would be something I would need for hours, weeks, possibly months on end. 

Finding blissful oblivion

I started feeling trapped inside the small metal box of a Honda Pilot. Any meaningful conversation had dried up and I knew I either needed to mentally get away from the situation, or start binge-eating the bag of ketchup-flavoured corn snacks, something I would digestively regret in about an hour. 

About three hours after leaving Meadow Lake, I gave up and went to my oldest go-to coping mechanism: shutting down my brain and taking a nap. Blissful oblivion. 

Maybe if I could turn all my family members into cats, I would have a better time interacting with them for days and weeks on end.

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