
About 15 years ago, I learned what actually it means to be an introvert, and I am forever thankful to my therapist for disabusing me of my previous misconceptions.
Let's begin there, shall we? Let's discuss what introversion is NOT. It's not shyness or being a loner. It's not about being quiet, nerdy, or dull. It doesn't mean I dislike socializing or that I don't enjoy fun, taking risks, or trying new activities.
I used to believe these things about introverts myself. In fact, when my therapist first suggested I might be an introvert, I was offended! No! I resisted. I'm fun, I enjoy new experiences, I have a wide range of interests and friends. To which she replied, Yea? What's that got to do with it? (But probably in a kinder way because she's a nicer person and always seems to find the right words.)
She kindly and patiently explained that the difference between introverts and extroverts lies in how each is energized. She asked how I feel after a full day or, even worse, a week-long meeting. I. Am. Drained. I can't wait to go home, change into my PJs, and not speak to anyone or have anyone speak to me. No phone. No TV. Or maybe I'll have a long workout, walk, or run. Perhaps a long bath. Or dive into a book to escape into someone else's world for a while. But if, at that moment, I'm given one more piece of information or expected to endure another conversation, I might lose my mind.
I want to be alone, doing whatever I feel like doing. I need to recharge, reenergize. If I get that chance, I'll be ready to engage again. But without it, I'll sink into a deeper hole where everyone irritates me. True story.
Some people are surprised when I say I'm an introvert. But... your job! You work in PR and marketing. You're out there, making things happen, moving and grooving! You do public speaking... and the list goes on. I understand. I can be very talkative in a small group of people I like. I can be silly and enjoy laughing. I love traveling and seeing new things. I like meeting new people—one or two at a time, for short periods.
Let me take you back to 1994, to my first full-time job. There, I worked in PR for a theater company in Cleveland, Ohio. I loved my job. I got to write about our upcoming productions, drive actors to interviews at radio and TV stations I'd arranged, and I had excellent seats whenever I wanted them. But there was one part I dreaded. It made me feel physically sick—opening night. Each time a new production opened, our theater company hosted a private dinner for donors and VIPs. Before the curtain, a large, beautiful room was filled with conversation, laughter, and familiarity. Dozens of people. Maybe 100. And I was expected to mingle, making them feel appreciated, special, and welcome. You know, chat them up. Hobnob. Refill drinks. Ask questions. Delight in their company.
Oh, how do I hate this? Let me count the ways. I hate it to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach. But then... it got worse. After darting around the room, trying to avoid people and pretending to be busy, I would be seated at a large round table with nine other people I didn't know, peppering me with questions, expecting me to do all the things I just spent an hour avoiding, but now I had no escape. Dinner was interminable. At the end of it all, I'd go home feeling exhausted, embarrassed, and a little angry.
Trying to fit in where I don't feel comfortable is one of the worst situations I've ever been in. I started bringing my husband to these functions, but that just made it worse. How could he just walk up to a group of people he didn't know and start a conversation? It didn't look hard. But it was beyond my ability. And I was hard on myself for not having it in me.
Fast forward to my sessions with my therapist and reading "The Wisdom of the Enneagram" decades later, and it was like a thousand light bulbs going off at once! I'm an introvert. Experiences like opening night dinner were draining, uncomfortable, and agonizing. And I'm not the only one who feels this way. (I almost thought I was.)
Of course, many similar occasions have come up in my professional career. Like the dreadful "ice breaker" activities, the evening events after a full day of meetings, and then dinner. No..... please... I just want to go back to my hotel and relax before I start disliking everyone. Trust me, it's better for everyone that way.
I could also discuss the myths of extroversion. But I'll mention just one. Extroverts are not loud mouths. Extroverts gain energy from socializing and are invigorated by large gatherings. But we've all known those who talk too loudly, too much, and shake hands with everyone they meet, right? They're the schmoozers. I can hardly stand being around people like this. I've often heard others excuse their behavior, "He's such an extrovert." Well, maybe. But it seems more like poor behavior. I've known plenty of extroverts who love the company of others, all day every day, but still have manners, social skills, tact, and are perfectly lovely people. It's great to have extroverted friends! They know lots of people, they can get you into fun situations, and most importantly, they respect you when you say, "I've had a lovely time. And now I must go."
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