Lately I've been noticing posts about introverts popping up pretty much everywhere. Memes, lists, full-on articles, you name it. Suddenly, it seems, it's more socially acceptable to have a more inward-aimed personality, and it's hip to understand us. I think that's pretty cool, and since I have 27 years of first-hand experience being (not to brag or anything) a classic introvert in pretty much every sense I thought I'd join the conversation, which is something I am rarely inclined to do unless I feel that what I have to say is interesting or valuable. (You see what I did there?)
First of all, let me clear something up about this blog. I started it as a food and travel blog, because at the time I created it that was my jam. Don't get me wrong, I still love traveling and food will always be the closest thing to my heart besides a few very special individuals, but I don't seem to be going on trips and eating out as much as I did when I was 24/25. How Adam and I managed to then is a bit beyond me, given that we were definitely more poor than we are now. But enough about that. The point is, I need an outlet for my addled mind, I need to let things out that twist and fester and scream from inside, and just pouring it all out to a loved one sounds a bit cruel, so why not make it elective reading? Good? Good, let's move on.
So, introverts, what is they? Who are what? When is how? Let's start with what an introvert is not. An introvert is not just a shy or quiet person. While those qualities can definitely be and often are part of an introvert's complex personality, shy people are not always introverts and introverts are not always shy. I'll use my own experience as an example. When I was a kid, I was extremely, cripplingly shy. I was not only quiet around my classmates and peers, I actively avoided interaction with them. I didn't understand their boisterous play or their loud, raucous interactions with each other. This wasn't to say that I didn't want to be a part of things, in fact I desperately did, I simply did not know how. It was almost as if they spoke another language. For a kid this is not only confusing, it is scary, so avoidance often seems like the best option, and that is interpreted by other kids as weird, uncomfortable, unapproachable, etc. So a wallflower I was, and a wallflower I remained throughout all of grade school and through most of high school. What actually drew me out of that (at least a little bit) was getting involved with theatre and speech club, but I already talked about goddamn theatre and how much it's helped me in my last post, and if I start again I'll probably start openly weeping, and we can't have that. Stupid theatre, go away (except don't because I'm obsessed with you). THE POINT IS, today, there are probably not a whole lot of people who would describe me as shy. Quietly reflective at times? Maybe. Occasionally hard to stay in touch with? Perhaps. But the most noticeable difference between 7-year-old me and late twenties me is that I can turn it on when I know it's time.
Even in my mousiest days I have always been kind of in love with the world, and the people in it. People fascinate me. This is going to sound really lame and sappy, but I am just so enraptured by the idea that within every living being lies the endless sea of emotions, impulses, and thoughts that I experience on my own. It's beautiful. It's poetry. It's magic. What's even better is that I have been fortunate enough to forge some really meaningful relationships with other people, and to me this is nothing short of a triumph. How am I that lucky? How is anyone that lucky? Because I want this and I need this, I force myself out there to interact with people, to speak with them, to know them.
So here's the rub. No matter how much I crave human interaction, so matter how rewarding it is for me when I get it, it comes at a price. Here's why. Interaction with other people does not always come naturally to me, except with a very small handful of people. As I mentioned before, it is almost like speaking another language. You always have to think a sentence (or two) ahead of what you're saying, and you are always running the risk of sounding like a complete and utter moron. I think this is why writing appeals to me so much, because I am in absolute control of what goes on the page. I think this is also why I'm so drawn to theatre (godammit), because when you are acting, not only are you pretending to be someone you're not, away from all your social anxieties and neuroses, you are operating in a safe space where everything is mapped out for you, and you don't have to worry about your words being misinterpreted or your actions being perceived as too forward, weird, etc. When I'm just speaking off the cuff, that is not the case. I can't tell you how often I regret the words that come fluttering out of my mouth. I am a chronic apologizer, over-explainer, and facebook status deleter (facebook statuses and texts fall under the speaking blanket, as they tend to be impulsive, and are the bane of my existence). So I think you can see how social interaction causes me some anxiety, and here comes the part with the cup metaphor. There's a reason it exists, because it's so true. I have a limited amount of social energy. I know some people do not, and I am in awe of those people. However, I have my limits. There comes a point for me at every gathering or interaction when I am just...done. I wish I had more to say, I wish I had more to contribute, but I am done, and I cannot. The cup is empty, and it will not again be full until I have had sufficient Mandy time to recharge. I am not angry, I am not sad, I am simply empty. Done.
So here's what I've been driving at - introverts are a lot like extroverts sometimes in terms of our social needs. We like human interaction, we even crave it, need it. The main difference is that instead of it being therapeutic for us, it is, for lack of a better word, aerobic. It's a lot like exercise. We have to pump ourselves up for it, and while it can be a lot of fun while it's happening, and we know it's good for us, we need the recovery time afterwards if we ever expect to do it again.
Well I hope you all enjoyed this trip down the rabbit hole, I think I learned a few things myself. If anything, I would hope that an extrovert reads this and realizes, "Wow, introverts are cray, I kind of dig it."
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