I love being alone in movie theaters, restaurants, and shopping malls. I hate birthday parties (for myself). They stress me out because people are focused on me, and I don't like the attention or gifts. (But I love finding and giving gifts to other people).
I also hate group work. I don't understand the point and I don't understand why "pedogologically speaking" group work is always encouraged as the ideal way to teach. No. It isn't. It's awkward and alienating, and I always end up doing all the work (with one recent documentary project as a pleasant outlier).
Additionally, I have debilitating social anxiety. (Which, according to the DSM-IV, is a legit personality disorder.) If I sort-of know you and you come into the restaurant where I work, I will probably do my best to avoid eye contact with you (to avoid the aforementioned small talk). If I see you in a grocery store, I will camp out among the deli meats until I am sure we won't run into each other. It's not that I don't like you, it's just that I don't like surprise social interactions that I'm unprepared for. Similarly, when my friends introduce me to new people, my pulse quickens, my knees begin to shake, and my palms get disgustingly sweaty, which makes the obligatory introductory handshake even more awkward. And when the new acquaintance is an attractive, bearded male, I will likely just pass out immediately.
Do you want to be friends with me yet?
I love it when plans get cancelled, because it means I can spend the night reading books and surfing Reddit. When I go places, I observe the people around me more than I engage them. I take mental notes all the time. A lot of times I feel like Renton from Trainspotting or Nick Carraway from The Great Gatsby: Always observing, but not really the main actor in the story.
The thing is, this is just the way I am. I've tried to change it. I try to be more involved and less socially awkward (until I inevitably drop something, break something, trip over my own feet, accidentally injure someone, or say something so inflammatory that people lose all interest in speaking to me), but I simply can't change the way I am hard-wired, which makes me more concerned with my own thoughts than the external world. At any given time, I have 6 million thoughts and observations running through my head and I'm only able to express about .05% of them. (See diagram 1A for a visual)
Diagram 1A
According to Google, which, as we all know is our silent omnipotent overlord, "Introvert" is defined as: A shy, reticent, and typically self-centered person. Ouch, Google, you cut me real deep just now. Meanwhile, "Extrovert" is defined as: An outgoing, overtly expressive person. The difference in definition alone demonstrates a significant flaw in our society. Extroverts are glorified and praised while introverts get labeled as "shy" and "awkward" and "quiet".
At what point did our society begin to elevate the outspoken and ignore those who simply have no interest in being the center of attention?
My introversion has led to insecurity all my life, mostly because I am surrounded by wonderful, fun ambiverts (yeah, it's a thing) and extroverts. My dad can approach strangers and literally talk to then for hours. (Just ask the Jehovah's witnesses and Mormons who have the misfortune of knocking on our door.) And I have a best friend whose first actual sentence to a new acquaintance was, "So, your parents got divorced, huh? That must have been hard. Tell me about that." (They ended up dating for almost a year). One of my other best friends literally knows every local politician, school board member, and upper-middle class white lady/pseudo-activist in the Humble-Atascocita-Kingwood area, and can spark a conversation about just about anything.
These are my friends:
This is me:
I'll never understand why I'm still single.
I've always compared myself to the people close to me, wondering why I can't just act like a "normal person". but I've recently come to realize that I am a fairly normal person, and maybe my introversion isn't such a bad thing. According to Susan Caine's book Quiet, something like one third to one half of Americans are introverts, and though society does not fully appreciate them, they make a valuable contribution to society. They are good listeners and writers. They care deeply about the people close to them. They tend to be creative and are more emotionally sensitive to both beauty and tragedy. They tend to be focused and unmaterialistic. They enjoy deep, lengthy conversations with close friends and they try to avoid conflict. Some of the greatest people in history have been introverts: Rosa Parks, Vincent Van Gogh, Sir Isaac Newton, Albert Einstein, Dr. Seuss, The Great Stephen Spielberg, and my hero J.K. Rowling. So, I'm definitely in good company.
A lot of introverts try to cover up their quiet demeanor because in business and social interactions, the "Type-A" personalities seem to be preferable. I'm definitely guilty of this. But it doesn't seem fair that introverts have to downplay their natural predisposition for being cerebral and introspective.
So what do we do now? Let's be real, society isn't going to change. The charismatic, outspoken people will get a lot of the glory and accolades in this world, and I'd wager that most introverts are fully okay with that, but maybe we need to do a better job of respecting people who are not the vocal, engaging, "people-person" types. Additionally, it's time for people to start learning how to appropriately handle their interactions with introverted people, and to stop expecting them to approach life with the same extroverted attitude. (See Diagram for details).
I still struggle with embracing my introspective personality, but at least I'm learning that I do have a place, and I'm not abnormal, and my strengths and skills are equally as valuable as those of CEOs and public speakers, and for now, that's good enough for me.
