Since summer began (and even before), it has reminded me why it’s my least favorite season. The storm Sunday evening, just a few hours after I left friend Sarah’s house, cemented my feelings. I escaped unscathed, but others, including Sarah and other friends, didn’t, with trees down, power out, and damage to deal with. As of Tuesday afternoon as I write this, some are still without power.
Several years back that was me after a summer storm, as I looked out the back door into the backyard and saw more light than I should have. The neighbor’s huge backyard pecan tree had split, falling mostly into my backyard and on the fence (a few years before that across the street, a pecan tree limb falling on power lines on the other side of my duplex caused a power surge that fried some of my electronics; understandably I have qualms about pecan trees, no matter how much I love their nuts). Like now, it was very hot when it happened, so I didn’t want to have to spend much time out there. I still don’t.
I haven’t changed much over the years, that I’ve noticed, anyway, and I’m not alone.
While running some errands recently with a friend who was temporarily unable to drive, I ran into someone from high school while at Trader Joe’s. Though we hadn’t seen each other in years, we recognized each other easily, and determined that neither of us had veered much from who we were all those years ago. Sabrina is the same sweet, kind, smart and gorgeous woman I remember (who was very nice not to mention my afternoon greasy hair, another reason to not like summer). I’m still a nerdy smarta— … uh, smart-aleck with an odd sense of humor and a somewhat strange obsession with words, human behavior, and facts. And cats. Don’t forget cats.
Many of us don’t seem to change much after high school, barring any major life-changing events. The people who were genuinely sweet and kind, like Sabrina and another friend, Amy, are still that way. The ones who behaved like jerks (“Moose,” chiefly, among our high school “friends” … the nickname should be a giveaway, but the critters are nicer), well, still act like jerks, especially if they feel you’re not part of their tribe (who would want to hang with a bunch of loudmouth bullies?).
Subtle changes over a lifetime make it easier to recognize others later on, as with Sabrina and Amy; while none of us look just the same as we did in high school (though Sabrina and Amy have changed little), our personality maturation has happened at the same pace, so we still recognize the traits that made us friends in the first place.
Some of us, like me, reverted a bit, especially once the pandemic started, to our old introvert ways (seriously, I get peopled out very easily), but with the help of friends, I’m slowly getting back out among people I don’t know. It doesn’t mean I wouldn’t rather be curled up with some chocolate and a movie, because I’ll always want that. It just means I know that I do have to deal with strangers occasionally.
I still prefer cats nine times out of 10, but I’ll “people” when I have to.
While we do change a bit naturally over the course of our lives, it’s generally imperceptible and gradual, and it’s a universal phenomenon. Zaria Gorvett of the BBC wrote in 2020 that, as we age, “We become more conscientious and agreeable, and less neurotic. The levels of the ‘Dark Triad’ personality traits, Machiavellianism, narcissism, and psychopathy also tend to go down—and with them, our risk of antisocial behaviours such as crime and substance abuse.”
As a reminder, Internet trolls tend to embody those Dark Triad traits, which is another reason to avoid them. Like we needed more reasons.
“Research has shown that we develop into more altruistic and trusting individuals,” Gorvett wrote. “Our willpower increases and we develop a better sense of humor. Finally, the elderly have more control over their emotions. It’s arguably a winning combination—and one which suggests that the stereotype of older people as grumpy and curmudgeonly needs some revision.”
Unless you’re the Muppets’ Statler and Waldorf, my favorite curmudgeons.
What this research suggests to me is that there are some people who must have been really horrible in childhood and their teen years if they’re still this obnoxious decades later in their online personas (social media and anonymity have a lot to answer for).
Drastic personality shifts can happen, but usually revolve around a big stressor or medical event (my stroke didn’t change my personality—just made my migraine auras mostly disappear, so I don’t have that warning anymore—but it’s been known to happen). Absent that, it takes a person actually wanting to change and making an effort. For some people, well … it ain’t gonna happen. Being a bully makes them feel powerful, especially if they don’t have to face consequences for their words and actions.
Some will say they’re fun and sweet in real life and they’re just putting on an act for the lolz, but I doubt that. If they would say these things online, they’ll say them in real life too … though it might be under their breath because they feel powerless as themselves. It’s easy to bully others when you can just create another online identity if you get banned so that you can get right back to making others as miserable as you are.
I mean, I get cranky when it’s hot, but c’mon.
Even on the days I think I’m nothing like I was when I was a kid, I’m still a weird, nerdy little introvert who communicates better in writing. I still stick up for great words, the truth and those who can’t defend themselves (even as I tend to be too nice for my own good when it comes to myself).
I still haven’t gotten past the summer camping trip of second-degree sunburn and leeches, so will fight to stay inside when it’s really hot.
I still can’t parse every little detail of something in my column or anywhere else (for instance, in last week’s column, commercial speech is listed as unprotected by Freedom Forum, which some took issue with; however, as it’s subject to Federal Trade Commission regulation for false claims, I’d argue it’s not so protected).
Meanwhile, this nerd would like to be protected from summer. Can someone wake me when it’s fall, please? And bring me ice cream, stat!
Serenity is a fuzzy belly 