This week someone called me an introvert. For a minute, I was slightly offended. Me, an introvert? Isn’t that an insult, like when people describe me as “quiet” because they literally have nothing else to say about me?
When you’re a person that people often forget about because you’re the last to raise your hand in class, the last to contribute in a group discussion, the last person you’d turn to in order to recount your thrilling story about what happened last night, you get fed up of having labels attached to you. The worst part is that people almost think they’re complimenting you with these less-than-helpful adjectives. Take parent’s evening, for example. Every year, in subjects where I’d worked hard all term and was achieving some of the highest grades, many teachers would simply tell my parents “She’s very quiet, isn’t she?” So, suddenly, the fact that I was doing well academically became completely irrelevant next to the fact that I didn’t raise my hand much in lesson. Where is the praise for the fact that I never answered the teacher back or handed my homework in late?
A couple of days ago, I used Google (as reliable a source as ever) to search the definition of my newly-found label and discovered a short summary of the majority of my personality. Turns out I am an introvert in general terms.
And perhaps that’s not a bad thing. In fact, it could be quite the opposite because - since this moment - I feel as if I’ve started to properly understand myself for the first time in a while. Reading up on articles about being introverted, I’ve been able to really relate to what people have written. Suddenly my personality traits feel as if they’re all linked to something. And that something is being an introvert.
So I decided to try and write something that other “introverts” could relate to, and that perhaps some “extroverts” could peruse to gain a greater understanding of their social opposite.
It’s not always easy being a person who thrives off alone-time. You get labelled as many things: unfriendly, cold, unsociable. The truth of the matter is that I don’t believe I’m any of the three, and neither are a lot of fellow introverts. It’s just that I don’t always flourish in socialising the way an extrovert would. Doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it just the same, however.
Back on the topic of socialisation, most people like to do it every day. And I myself am one of those people – I enjoy short bursts of social interaction, and I’m not the sort of individual who could happily spend twenty four hours alone in my room with a book in my hand or scribbling away furiously into a notebook, as romantic an image as that is.
Like my mother says about food when I’m feeling poorly, “little and often” is the best way when it comes to social interaction. Long spurts and I Ieave the situation feeling tired and drained. Particularly when there are large groups of people involved; don’t even get me started on how much hard work that can be!
I need recovery time between such interactions. Alone time, where I can recharge my social batteries. For me, this includes long journeys which I spend plugged into my IPod, listening away to my music without having to think “Am I asking this person enough questions?” “Should I have said that or was it too much?” and “Is this an awkward silence or a comfortable one?”. I’m blissfully happy listening to album after album without one word from anybody else. Just me and my little comfort bubble of music.
On the other hand, I do have a few issues with the exact definition of “introvert”. Google dictionary would happily summarise me as a “shy, reticent person”. Personally, I refute this idea.
Take “shy” for instance. It is defined as nervous or timid in the company of other people. That’s quite an accusation to make. Imagine going up to someone and saying “You look so anxious in the company of other people.” That would be a bit of an unfair comment to come out with all of a sudden, wouldn’t it?
Synonyms of shy include sheepish, withdrawn, insecure and suspicious. Do you really think people are going to take those words as a compliment if you throw them around like people do the word shy? Just think about this the next time you describe someone who you deem to be quiet: is there not another adjective you could use? Thoughtful? Considerate? Don’t deepen their personal insecurities by trapping them in a corner with a word they’ll more-than-likely already be familiar with.
Similarly, I have a few issues with the word reticent – to not reveal one’s thoughts or feelings readily. That’s quite a generalisation. This sort of thing is entirely dependent on the situation and the people involved, and it’s hardly fair of people to summarise other individuals so readily with this word. I like to think I’m a relatively open person. Maybe I’m not, but it’s not really the place of others to judge.
I don’t want to portray this piece as being fuelled by anger, more by a general misinterpretation of “introverted” people in society. We can enjoy chatting as much as we enjoy burying our head in a book. Equally, we can be as compassionate and as open as a typical “extrovert”. It’s just that we don’t feel the need to fill every little gap of silence with words. Instead, we tend to choose them more carefully. Or at least try to, anyway.
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