Over peopling, grief and introversion

I don’t drink alcohol anymore, so why do I still get a hangover?

In the same way that social media platforms can often turn into a highlight reel where people only share the good bits of their lives and hide the challenging parts, this Substack could start to feel like a place to show that I’ve got this grief thing sorted, when that is far from the truth.  So after a wobbly week it’s time to get honest about one of the struggles I’m facing.

I’m an introvert, and sometimes that surprises people because I appear confident and can do things like get up on stage to sing or speak in front of people.  Often this is because people misunderstand and think introverts aren’t people people.  The difference between introverts and extroverts is predominantly about where we get energised or feel depleted rather than how good we are at interacting with others.  Introverts find that interacting with people, especially large groups or strangers, drains them of energy and they need time by themselves to restore themselves and renerergise.  Extroverts on the other hand find being alone drains them of energy and they need time with others to restore themselves and renergise.    

What I have discovered since my daughter died is that introversion plus grief magnifies the energy draining effect of being with people.  I first noticed this a few months ago after my sister-in-law’s birthday party, and the same thing happened to me this week after the HR Conference.  There are similarities between these occasions, as they both involved meeting up with people I hadn’t seen since before Bethany died, and conversations with mainly acquaintances rather than being surrounded by close friends and family who I see regularly.       

It's a complex situation to be in as an overthinker.  Before the event I run through different scenarios and practice how I may cope, knowing that some people will ignore me because they don’t know what to say, some people will have forgotten, some people will say the wrong thing, some people will get upset, and some people will say exactly the right thing and give you the support and space you need at just the right time.  At the event, of course, the trouble is that you don’t know from one conversation to the next which of these people you are talking to, and it takes skill and effort to modify your behaviour, emotions and conversation topics as you move from one person to another. 

While all of that unseen mental work takes its toll, there are also physical and nervous system symptoms of socialising in these circumstances.  Cortisol and adrenaline increase, as does the heart rate.  Having looked at my fitbit data for the first day of the conference, I can see that not only was my overall average heart rate five beats faster than the day before, there are peaks where my heart rate went into the “heart pumping activity” zone which match with breakfast, predinner drinks and when I spoke on stage.

I remember the day after my sister in law’s party waking up with what felt like a hangover, even though I no longer drink alcohol.  I felt tired, delicate, spaced out and headachy, but we had no plans that day and I took it easy at home, reflecting that socialising while grieving really does exhaust me.

I should have learnt from this and planned a quiet recovery weekend after conference.  Instead I went into London to meet a friend for lunch the next day, went to my writing group and cleaned the house ready for my son having friends stay for a sleepover and plans for two days of socialising with family over the bank holiday weekend.  It shouldn’t have been a surprise then that my body had to shout to be heard and demand what it needed from me this time.  At an award’s ceremony and barbecue at my son’s rugby club I started to feel tearful and overwhelmed, before a headache and a whole hots of other symptoms decided to join in.  Confusingly I couldn’t work out what it was, thinking maybe my hayfever had really kicked in, or that I might have caught Covid at the conference.  What I did work out pretty quickly was that it was suddenly all too much and I needed to walk away, so I left early and came home.  Once I had a little time to myself I realised that what I was experiencing was a case of “overpeopling”, a mix of a grief and introvert hangover.

In an article on Introvert Hangovers in Psychologies magazine in June 2022, Ruth Tierney writes about how for introverts social events can compromise energy levels to the extent that we feel overwhelmed, exhausted and tearful afterwards.  She continues;

“There are frequently physical symptoms with an introvert hangover, too, says Dee Johnson, a psychotherapist at the Priory Hospital Chelmsford. ‘The effect of your heart rate being up and your hormones surging means that, when you leave the event, you feel exhausted and could experience weakness, headaches and even stomach upsets,’ Johnson adds.  It’s not just physical exhaustion they’re dealing with, but the need to process everything.

‘Introverts are absorbers; they are detail orientated, listening intently, picking upon body language and tone, and then running conversations over in their minds repeatedly afterwards. It’s no wonder socialising drains them,’ Johnson concludes.”

https://www.psychologies.co.uk/introvert-hangover-how-to-recover/

Grief Hangovers are common after emotional events such as birthdays, death anniversaries and Christmas where just getting through the day can leave us tired, drained and depleted.  In her Substack called Ambivalent Survivor (of child loss) in a post about Christmas dated the 10^th January 2023, Jacqueline Mackay writes about the mask of normalcy that grievers wear.

“We often sit on it, keep it in! We keep it in, because we feel it to such a limitless degree … every special occasion, every day! So, literally, there is just not enough space or time or opportunity to express the depth of it, so we carry on - we laugh, we enjoy a meal, the company of others. Those are often genuine moments of enjoyment, it’s just that, always, always there is so much sadness inside happening simultaneously, that we become skilled at wearing the ‘mask of normalcy’ … and that is incredibly exhausting to maintain. No wonder exhaustion creeps in after significant holidays, anniversaries, birthdays.”

Hopefully the next time this happens to me I’ll remember to make space in my diary for a recovery day.  I need to recognise that the double whammy of a grief hangover and introvert hangover deserves time and space to rest and recover.  I need to remember that if I refuse to acknowledge this and just keep on keeping on my body will start screaming until I listen and give it the solitude it needs.