I’ve known I was an introvert since I was in my forties and will never forget the day I became aware. I was working on my masters in Psych. There was a weekend seminar. I don’t remember what the subject matter was, but near the end of it I realized I was an introvert. This thought never crossed my mind in all the years before. On my way home that day I pulled the car off the road and wept at the incredible relief and self-forgiveness that surged through me. I’d been kicking myself for years. A sort of subtle self-disapproval somewhere deep within my mind. Not something I dwelled on but came up from time to time. Why was it so hard for me to talk, to think fast and make simple conversation? Sometimes people ask me if there’s something wrong or, “What are you thinking?” The answer almost always seems to be too complicated to explain.
There was a bar I patronized in San Francisco. After a year of more or less steady attendance the bartender returning change said, “You don’t talk much, do you?”
“Nope,” I answered. Couldn’t resist that one.
Most people are uncomfortable with silence, we make small talk, weather, sports, politics . . . whatever. I’ve never been good at that, or at finding the silence I so often crave. Silence has become hard to come by in this world of elevator music, sound in shops, and at the gym. Most people like this, or it seems that way. We don’t hear much from those that don’t.
Extroversion is a cultural ideal; it’s an extrovert’s world. My thoughts have been validated in: ‘Quiet,‘ a book by Susan Cain – The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking. She states, “Introverts are more likely than extroverts to express online and notoriously small talk-phobic, as they find idle chatter to be a source of anxiety, or at least annoyance. For many quiet types, chitchat can feel disingenuous. Let’s clear one thing up: Introverts do not hate small talk because we dislike people. We hate small talk because we hate the barrier it creates between people.”
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Extroverts tend to make decisions or give answers to a question faster than an introvert, even if they’re not that sure of the answer. In any given conversation most seem faster on the draw than me. I’ve never been good at group think, spitting out clever ideas. I tend to reflect on what is being said instead of talking about it out loud. By the time I decide to comment the subject has changed, and often someone else comes out with what I was thinking. That’s been fine with me, no problem.
Cain writes that Introverts tend not to be excited about fame and glory. Not so good for authors. Fame and glory need a lot of self-promotion. We need to put ourselves out there, again and again—to be noticed, to advertise. ‘Hey, look what I have done!’ Not easy for introverts. Writing is good for introverts; text is our soundless conversation that gains voice in reader’s minds. I’ve sometimes worried over my lack of ambition . . . mid-eighties now and still have not made the cover of time magazine. No best sellers and my chances of being a rock star have been greatly diminished. Have I not tried hard enough? Whatever. I’ve been very lucky. Seems I have always had enough.
I consider myself to be 90% introvert and think there must be many other writers out there somewhere on the scale. Where would you rate yourself? Do you find small talk cumbersome? Dislike to talking on the phone? Create in cycles? Have difficulty finishing projects?
Can a person be both introverted and extroverted?
I am a born show-off – there is nothing I like better than a stage and a full auditorium.
However, when I am not on that stage, or I am in a situation that requires no input from me, I’m happy to let others take the reins while I do an impersonation of a piece of wallpaper.
I chime with this. There’s a switch, it seems, either I can be out there, the centre of attention and lapping it up, or I’m a thorough introvert.
I go to small shops, I thank our local supermarket for introducing a quiet hour when they turn the canned music off. I love music, but it has to be full-fat music. If there’s any lack of fidelity in reproduction, it becomes annoying noise. Audiophilia is an expensive affliction! I hate parties, but dinner with another couple can be lovely – if I know them well enough to have deep conversation with.
Then the other side of the coin. In any physical workshop situation, I love to be near the front. Not first, but second is great, I have no desire to be one of the audience. I’ve sung and performed on stage and loved it. I’ve been a seat-of-the-pants life coach, making it up as I went along, and my clieents loved it. Not one of them would have labelled me as an introvert.
This doesn’t seem to be described as part of introversion. My feeling is, as this article suggests, introversion is less about being shy and more about the need for a valid reason to talk, to perform, to be.
Described like this, it feels less like an affliction, a lack, and more like a desirable state of being.
I’m on the scale, no question. Not keen on small talk, check. Dislike talking on the phone, check. Difficulty finishing projects, double check. On the other hand, I can do a very good impression of extroversion. (I think it’s good.) I taught for 20 odd years and teaching was often like stand-up. So where on the scale. Hard to say.
Ha! ‘Stand up’, well said. I taught for 17 years. Not easy for introverts! I used to lock the classroom door at lunchtime for thirty minutes of peace with students pounding on the door. I could not have lasted twenty, barely did the seventeen. Teaching itself is such an incredibly demanding job.