Ain't It Good To Be An Introvert

A friend was surprised to learn the other day, during a story I was telling about my youth, that I seemed to have put myself into a lot of social scenarios while I was growing up. And so the veracity of my introverted nature came into question. This has caused me to think back on those days (specifically my grade school years and thereabouts) more than I have in quite a while.

It's true that I could be found doing things that would make it hard for anyone to pinpoint me as the unsocial type. Even nowadays it can be hard to peg me unless you're around me for long enough. (This reminds me of the post that I wrote about spotting introverts; I thought about writing something more in depth about the topic, but then I realized that most of us introverts don't really want to be spotted. Being spotted would interfere with our ability to keep to ourselves, to remain inconspicuous, to have our inner worlds protected. Or maybe that's just me.)

No matter what it looked like from the outside, I had a hard time with my nature when I was growing up. I spent a lot of time trying to figure it out. If I'd listened to the people around me back then, I might have concluded that being quiet and keeping to myself was a bad thing. Peers were often uncomfortable with my quietness, and some were even visibly upset about what probably seemed to them like an insistent unfriendliness. Occasionally people were mean. Others tried to change me. Some acquaintances set out trying to make me more talkative. And, naturally, there were those who simply made fun of my quietness.

Growing up, I didn't know what to make of all this. I instinctually knew that I wasn't doing anything wrong and I felt as though I was just being myself. Sometimes I even resented the treatment I got. But as much as I resisted allowing others to tell me how I should be, I couldn't help wondering if everyone was right. Not only that, but there was no one to model for me how I could operate in a social world. Everywhere I looked, people seemed to need conversation; people flocked together. That was my only model of the world, but not a model that made sense to me. Each of us is left to figure our own selves out, but introverts do so in a way that's even more alone. We do so largely without any clues.

So in an attempt to figure myself out, I would put myself into situations that didn't suit my nature. I worked in jobs that required lots of talking. I lived with roommates. I didn't always say no to group activities; I did enter into group settings, though I was always the silent party. I pushed the boundaries of my social comfort level. Oftentimes these choices overwhelmed me, but I did what I could to alleviate that. And I did so without knowing what I needed (at least not in any rational way). How was I to know that I needed to be able to get away, to be alone, or to retreat to an isolated spot? No one else I knew ever seemed to care whether they escaped the company of others.

Still, I'm glad for many of those learning experiences. I'm not sure if I would know myself as well without having had them. I never attempted to change who I was -- I only strived to know whether I could be anything more; I wanted to know whether what I felt about myself was right (or whether I was simply afraid and shy like everyone told me I was). Rather than learn to be ashamed of my quiet nature because of the rebuke I got, I guess I decided to wear my quietness like a badge. And I learned a lot from my resistance to change. Nowadays, I still push my own social boundaries to some extent, but I choose more carefully. I tend towards smaller social settings, more individual ones. I choose friends who are comfortable with my quiet nature. I moderate my activities and balance my venturing out with enough recuperation time to suit my needs.

But sometimes I think it would've been nice to have had access to some of this knowledge while I was still in my youth. It would've been nice to find others who were like me, if only to know that being like me was okay. It would've been nice to know that I wasn't alone, even when I was.

Because it is okay to be an introvert; in fact, I think it's enviable! If only I had always known how much so!

 

Being Unusually Chatty

A friend from out of town (we'll call him Burma) was visiting this past week, and while we were in the midst of a conversation, his wife (Kate) made a comment to him that caught my attention, a comment that I often hear people make towards me. We were discussing another old friend of ours, and it went something like this:

Burma: I've never been able to get close to him [our old friend]. We never had very personal conversations.

Me: Really?

Kate: Wait, you don't usually have personal conversations. In fact, you're being unusually chatty tonight.

Burma: Well, I'm drunk, so ...

I doubted Burma's story about being drunk, seeing that he was barely halfway through his only bottle of beer, but I was making sure to closely watch his reaction to the comment. I was curious how it made him feel.

See, being told that you're unusually chatty is the same as being told that you're normally not very talkative. I've already mentioned in the past how people tend to point out my quietness; this is the same thing, but perhaps as a more "politically correct" version.

Often when this sort of comment is directed at me, the intensity of my self-consciousness temporarily spikes; I'll probably have a more difficult time staying focused on the conversation at hand. In the past, I would frequently disappear into my thoughts altogether, and trying to get myself back out again to join in with the people around me would be quite difficult. I become more aware of the scrutiny of others, more aware of how my quietness makes others feel, more aware of the process of the conversation (of the body language and facial expressions and the feelings and attitudes that are conveyed), and I become entangled in that web of awareness.

But my friend hardly skipped a beat. He's a much more social animal, so I'm not surprised. I think he's more private than he is introverted, but it was curious to see a little of his wife's perspective of him. Plus, it was nice to hear what he was implying: That he is comfortable enough with me to have personal conversations -- to be chatty, as it were.

As curious as it was to watch someone else deal with a scenario that I regularly face, I did wonder whether I should somehow deflect his wife's comment. And I wondered whether I would have appreciated a deflection. But I had no idea how I could accomplish such a thing, anyway. I'm not that skilled at conversation to begin with!

 

Specialized Literature

Sometimes I think about writing a book that deals with extreme introversion. There aren't very many books on the subject of introversion specifically; while there are some good ones among those that do exist, they tend to be very generalized. They're often written for (or about) anyone who has experienced even the slightest inclination towards introversion. Sometimes these books are generalized to such an extent that they read like horoscopes, allowing anyone at all to relate. What I imagine doing is writing for those of us whose temperaments there is no question about, for those who fall squarely and deeply within the introversion spectrum. It would be about my own experiences, of course, but I imagine it would include a lot of research targeted towards a smaller percentage of the population. The subject matter would be more specialized; it would cover something between moderate and extreme introversion. I feel that an accurate discussion on the subject can't be had without making it much more focused. And how can it be very helpful if it's not accurate?

Anyway, one reason that I'm pondering this today is that I've noticed that a lot of visitors come to this blog by googling the phrase "extreme introvert." I feel a little guilty for not writing anything particularly helpful here, or at least for not writing more regularly. On the other hand, this is only a personal blog; I never meant it to be anything more important than that.

 

Don't Need No Stinkin' Words

From the movie Up:

"You don't say much. I like you!"

From the movie, The Express:

"He's doing a lot without saying nothing." (In reference to Jackie Robinson and how he was making a difference in the world, spoken by a character who struggles with stuttering.)

 

Natural Defenses

With the prevalence of swine flu in the news lately, I can't help but think that introverts would be more likely to survive in the event that such a disaster became more widespread. After all, we tend to come in contact with others much less; thus, we'd simply avoid one of the ways in which we might encounter a virus. It's like a built-in defense mechanism. Introverts may or may not be born rulers, but perhaps we are born survivors.

 

Me, Regularly

A sudden and total atmosphere of isolation came over him, pervasive and almost tangible, a spell. The others sensed it and stared. The world of solitude closing around him was at that moment impenetrable, a shield, airless, hereditary, penetrating to his bones, his veins.

Excerpt from The Paragon
by John Knowles

 

On Natural Selection

Even though I don't consider myself shy, here's a quote that I find relevant (and amusing):

"Yeah, well, you know, frankly, you're doomed. You and all the other shy people are. Natural selection favors the loud and the aggressive. I don't mean this in a bad way, but genetically speaking you're a cul de sac."

Excerpt from Black Books

 

Reclusive = Easily Forgotten

This morning, a co-worker messaged me briefly. Here's the bulk of it:

She said: Hey, good morning ... so the beard is back huh?
I said: Ya, for the moment
She said: for the moment?
I said: I need to maintain my disguise
She said: well .. you are incognito anyway... no one remembers you work here anymore anyway ;)
I said: That's the plan

Sigh.

Even though I played it off and pretended that it meant nothing, her last statement affected me more than it normally would have. I guess I'm sensitive lately. Usually I would've told myself that it's good to be able to escape from the attention of people so easily. But today I took the statement to mean that my presence/contribution at work is unimportant.

I suppose this comes with being a recluse. Still, I do like to think that my work matters.

 

An Apt Description, Or Perhaps Just A Desirable One

I was chopping vegetables beside her when she brought up a cooking show I hadn't seen. I told her that I don't have cable.

"What!" she said. "Do you live in a bubble?"

I ignored the question for a minute or two and resumed chopping. I thought of the picture I have in my bedroom, the one depicting a group of people standing atop a bubble as it floats over a rocky beach and the sun sets behind it.

"Yes," I said after a while, "I guess I do sort of live in a bubble."

 

Silence Equals Consensus?

There was diversity training at my office the other day, and it was painful (not because of the topic, only that it's so tedious). Everyone else was a good sport about it, but I wanted badly to leave. In any case, the instructor made a statement during the three hour session that seemed appropriate to mention here. She said, "Silence means consensus." I'm taking her statement out of context, of course, but I've heard this phrase used before and I don't agree with it. The point being made is this: if you don't speak up about someone's "wrong" behavior, then you're accepting of it and possibly even complicit in encouraging it. For instance, if someone is using derogatory or stereotypical terms when discussing others, not calling the person on it is the same as agreeing with it. But I think there are many other reasons why a person might remain silent.

A person might:

• See their silence as a rejection of the behavior, and their lack of participation, verbal or otherwise, is evidence of that;
• Think the behavior is unacceptable by personal standards, but realize that in most cases people should be entitled to their beliefs, however idiotic and wrong-headed they may be;
• Be lost in thought about it;
• Just not care to contribute anything;
• Be in shock;
• Have more important things on their mind, like what kind of groceries to get later or what to do once the weekend arrives;
• Plan to send a written note rather than discuss matters openly;
• Or any number of things.

What's funny is how much emphasis the instructor put on being open-minded. And yet she was quick to jump to conclusions about a person's silence. I'd say that is very judgmental. What is it about silence that troubles people so much?

 

A Fun Way To Plead For Silence

What? Silence offends you? You feel you have to make conversation?

Quoted from Northern Exposure
By the wonderful character, Adam
In the episode, "The Bumpy Road to Love"
Season 3, Ep. 1

 

So Called Introverts

It's nearly impossible to identify for sure who is and who isn't an introvert. Even an extreme introvert is hard to spot at times. Take myself as an example. Every social activity that I partake in makes it more difficult for people to peg me. Even venturing out into the world helps create a blurry image of the type of person I am. My own claims to be one of the more extreme introverts you'll ever meet mean nothing. And I can't blame anyone for not believing me. After all, I don't believe others who make similar claims!

I hear it all of the time. A friend once told me that he considers himself to be introverted. If my facial expression didn't convey my disbelief, I think I said something like, "You?" He's one of the most outgoing and social guys that I've befriended. He's nearly always talking and joking with someone, and often he's either the life of a party or its clown.

As another example, I've heard many celebrities make the same claim, actors who are apparently creating a ruckus in public every day and who seem to crave attention from news and media -- not for work or to garner publicity for a film, as far as I can tell. Although I don't know them personally and could never say for certain, their claims seem to defy believability.

I realize a wide spectrum may exist for introversion, but sometimes I'm forced to wonder if anyone truly understands what it means. Other times, I begin to think that claiming to be an introvert has become fashionable, that everyone wants to "join the club". I should probably be reluctant to call myself one.

Though it sounds very elitist, perhaps I should come up with some guidelines on spotting real introverts. Or the extreme ones, at least.

 

Ragging

I can take some ragging. Anyone with even a slight sense of humor should be able to. And, if one particular subject has been the impetus of the ragging for your entire life, you should be used to it by now. So it is with my quietness. But I still like to document it, if only to illustrate how regular it is.

I'm on my way out of the office at the end of the day, nodding and saying a few goodbyes, when one of my teammates says, "Good chatting with you today," the joke being that I'd said not one word to him. These have become common parting words from him during the last several weeks. This from a guy with whom I've worked closely for the last seven years, with whom I've enjoyed many lunches and activities unrelated to work, whose family I know and whose home I've been to.

You'd think some jokes would get old. But maybe the humor is in how old they are.

 

The Relief In Solitude

Freedom, in my eyes, involves settling into the void, a place where no one can detect me, being able to disappear and feel that I don't exist to others. Freedom involves breaking free of the chains and shackles that emanate from the awareness of others; it involves no longer feeling self-conscious. There is such relief in being alone.

 

Why Not Speaking Is Better

The other day at the office, a coworker walked by my cubicle while showing a potential employee around. As she made her rounds, she introduced everyone to the candidate. When she got to me, she told the said candidate my name and then she said about me: "He's shy."

Why do people do that? Why try pointing out a person's most prominent character trait?

First of all, I'm not shy -- I'm an introvert. I felt like replying rudely, "I'm not shy. I just don't like you."

Secondly, it doesn't take much creativity or intelligence to frequently make note of a readily observable feature. It's like remarking that the sky is blue. Every single day. And if I were to take up the same habit, it would be the equivalent of introducing people thus: "Hi, this is Sally. She's fat." Or, "I'd like you to meet Bob. He never shuts up."

For extreme introverts like myself, I'm sure this is a common occurrence. In fact, this happened last week as well. Another coworker was showing someone around the office and, when she got to me, said, "He doesn't talk, so you'll never hear from him."

What the hell?

Sure, people think they're funny, but really they're just being insensitive and dull. It would be better if they said nothing at all. At least their silence would be a kindness to us all.

 

Keys To The Soul

I was watching a favorite show of mine the other night, Northern Exposure, and in this particular episode one of the main characters loses his voice. He later laments the loss of his voice by quoting Voltaire -- I believe it was this quote: "Poetry is the music of the soul, and, above all, of great and feeling souls" -- and, taking it further, by saying that the voice is the bridge to other people's souls, that without it we are alone in this world.

This struck me as a sad and typical view. It could be interpreted as saying that the souls of introverts are shut off from others. At the least, it portrays being alone as an undesirable thing. But why must it be undesirable? It can be wonderful! Also, there are other routes to the souls of others. There are many ways to communicate and there are far worse things than not being able to speak to people. In fact, it could be said that many of the troubles in life occur because we speak too much!

Anyway, I haven't written in a while and I figured I'd jot down these simple thoughts. Nothing serious. I'll try getting into more of a groove here.

 

Defeating My Purpose

Here I am, attempting to document my thoughts about what it's like to be an extreme introvert, while every word that I write seems to discredit what I claim to be; after all, words and introverts don't seem to belong together. The fact that these are written words and that they remain unspoken means little. I'm releasing these words rather than hanging on to them, setting them free rather than storing them inside, pouring them forth rather than bottling them up. I'm defeating my purpose with every keystroke.

And yet my claim remains the same. The irony involved in sharing my thoughts is likely to make my credentials hard to understand - if not believe - but that's an integral part of being me. I still intend to put together this collection of notes. Whether my words work against me or not, I believe they are still true and honest.

Maybe they'll also carry some insight with them.