This morning someone I work with posted a link on my Facebook page, something to do with “things you should know about introverts” or something along those lines, asking me how accurate it was. I’ve been meaning to write a definitive post on introversion for months now, ever since I read Susan Cain’s revelation of a book, Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking, which reorganized all of the filters through which I’d been viewing my own life and in the best possible ways. But writing a post was hard to think about because there’s so much for me to say on the subject. So instead of one post I decided to start a new blog label and just contribute thoughts to the topic in the long term instead. And since I was asked about the following points, I might as well start here. Things you should know about introverts (or at least the one writing this):
We need to recharge alone. Absolutely. Even if that just means stepping into a different room to be alone for a few minutes. I can be at my sister’s with a houseful of family members I love and trust, but will often take a few minutes to go sit in the sun room and just hang out with one of the dogs instead to get centered. It’s not a deliberately planned thing -- it’s just how I react.
We don’t hate being around people, but we probably hate crowds. Being introverted is NOT being antisocial. I can absolutely dread the idea of Open House night at school, but I usually come away from it in a good mood and feeling positive about the coming year after meeting the families I’ll be working with, and that was very much the case this year. Crowds aren’t always evil -- I could spend an entire day walking around the state fair by myself and vanish into the mass of the other 200,000 people there that day and be perfectly content if not downright peaceful in knowing I was invisible to all of the people passing by. But to find myself stuck in a large meeting at our district’s staff development center, especially in the middle room that’s usually broken into four components but is occasionally opened up to accommodate a larger group? I immediately retreat inward to avoid that much concentrated stimulation.
We don’t mind silence. No. Personally I’d rather have music on, but silence has plenty of merit to it as well.
Just because we’re introverted doesn’t mean we’re shy. Agreed. This distinction largely has to do with trust -- who are the people around us we know well enough and trust enough to let them see who we really are? Example: For my part, I like (or at least get along with) everyone I work with, and I feel lucky I can make that claim. But there’s a difference between liking someone and trusting them enough to allow them inside your circle, and I don’t mean trust in the sense that I’m not worried they’re going to sneak into my room and steal my iPad if I forget to lock it up (although I never do). In this instance, trust means I know them well enough and am comfortable enough with them to trust they accept everything that makes me who I am. There are close to one hundred people on the staff at my school. I probably trust about ten of them in this very intimate way. If you have to wonder if you're in that circle for me, you probably aren’t. But that doesn't mean I don't like you.
We can turn on an extroverted personality when necessary, but it is especially draining. Mostly true. This reflects back to an idea I’ve brought up a few times on the blog, about how most people have personalities that are compilations of different situational projections of who they feel they need to be at a given moment. I see my teacher self as a completely different person than my writer self, although those two projections probably reflect my truest natures in very different ways. I’ve always said that if someone really wants to know who I am at my core they would have to read one of my manuscripts or see me when I’m teaching. (Anyone who has done both of those things probably knows me better than I’m comfortable thinking about.) Several years ago I was one of the groomsmen for one of my best friend’s wedding, and not just a groomsmen but “the Best Dude.” Yes, you read that right, not Best Man but Best Dude. Long story but it’s true, and I could produce the wedding program that has me listed as such to prove it. Anyway. This responsibility meant traveling to another state to spend a weekend as a peripheral focal point surrounded by people I didn’t know, which would normally be one strong form of Introvert Hell. But I got through it and had a great time, because of one secret strategy I intentionally used: Any time I was with someone I didn’t know, I brought out the teacher self. Anyone who has seen me in the classroom knows he’s the conditional extrovert. Which is why I'm usually dead tired when I get home. And why my hotel room during the wedding weekend was such a treasured sanctuary.
We aren’t judging you. No, at least to no greater degree than everyone judges everyone else anyway.
We secretly love it when you cancel plans. This is the best of both worlds, almost like winning the lottery. On one hand, we don’t have to go out and be around people when we’d rather be at home, alone, decompressing. On the other hand, we had already committed to plans so we still get the credit for being social without having to actually do anything. The rare exception would be if you back out of something we were really excited about and are were willing to brave the situation to take in the experience, and you cancel at the last minute for less than valid reasons.
We can get wrapped up in our own thoughts. Um, yes? I’m literally thinking about four different things as I write this.
We can be pretty bad at connecting. The list I was given provided this description: “You know when you have had a really bad day and you just want to call up a friend and chat? Yeah, I’m bad at that. I tend to wait for extroverts to reach out and include me, so when the time comes that I need support, I can be a bit lost.” This is absolutely me. I don’t avoid connecting because I feel I’m above it, but because I assume any time I do will be seen as me trying to insert myself into someone else’s life and infringing on their time, which I would never, ever do unless I was absolutely sure they actively wanted me to. This can be a bad thing because I will hardly ever reach out to anyone if I need any kind of tangible or emotional support, even if I'll usually jump at the chance to provide it for others. But the accidental consequence of this has also led to me becoming fairly self-reliant.
We don’t like to hang around. This is conditional. That small group of people I trust? I could hang around with them indefinitely. But as soon as a meeting is over and the exit door is open, I’m a memory. I'm not one to subject myself to any more small talk than is absolutely required.
We have strong opinions. I was sitting in a performance review meeting with a former principal a long time ago, and she mentioned I had a tendency to leave big conversational gaps between questions she asked me and the answers I gave. I thought I was about to get smacked down for this because she thought I seemed hesitant or distracted, but she said it was a quality she appreciated because it showed I was taking the time to consider what she’d said and think about how I would respond. Introverts think a lot, often to the degree it’s easy and convenient to tag it as overthinking, a label I’ll often apply to myself. But I don’t think considered and carefully constructed opinions are a necessarily a bad thing.
And if you don't want to take my word for it, look at that blog archive on the right side of the window and click on some of the posts listed there. You couldn't ask for any more evidence of a ridiculous amount of overthinking than that.
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