Introverts.

I think I have a confession to make. And it has not been an easy thing to admit to myself.

I am…an introvert.

     For those of you who know me pretty well, this should come as absolutely no surprise. In fact, you are probably half-scoffing to yourself as you recall all of the nights that I declined an invitation in order to stay in to read or watch movies until I was so tired my brain could barely stay afloat. Or how often I blush (curse you, pale skin, for making it so much more obvious). But to me…well, I never truly realized how much of an introvert I embody until I read Susan Cain’s book, Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking.

    I first heard of Susan Cain when scrolling through Ted Talks. She gave a very empowering lecture on the power of introverts, and in the midst of her words, she mentioned that she had an entire book on the very subject and the research she has compiled over years of studying, talking to, and analyzing the introverts in the world around us, herself included. I finished the book a few days ago, and it has left me much more aware of who I am than I ever was.
    When people hear the word “introvert,” the words “recluse” or “hermit” often follow. For a long time, I too thought that introverts were no more than pasty-skinned geeks holed up in basements, born without a socializing gene, making love to video games and the sweet sound of silence around them. But being an introvert differs drastically from society’s prominent opinion.
      Growing up, I had a certain tenacity for life that my mom says could scarcely be rivaled. I constantly peppered her with questions. I loved to be outside looking at beautiful things, whether it was the Louisiana bayou gurgling outside my grandmother’s house or the hydrangeas growing in the backyard. I got misty-eyed during Disney films. And I spent a lot of my time creating stories. I was never called shy until I reached middle school, where I felt awkward and different from everyone else. I didn’t want to go to every football game on Friday nights. Usually, I was content to go to the library and return with a stack of books, the words glittering like jewels, to keep me company. Sometimes I would refuse party invitations, simply because I did not feel like talking to anyone. And so often, I wonder if I should be different. Go out. Socialize. I wondered if something was wrong with me.
     It wasn’t like I was friendless. Quite the opposite. I’ve loved people and their company, and deeply, for as long as I can remember. I love the way people think out loud, or the way their laughter bursts into bloom in mid-air when they’re with friends. I love having conversations that carry weight, meeting new people, going on adventures, going out with my friends. But there was something in my soul that desperately clung to silence at the end of the day, that simply needed quiet and space for me to think, to rest, to recharge.
    And Susan Cain completely outlines this in her book. She sketches the introvert in such clarity that the second I read the description, I felt my heart wiggle around like a puppy, finally feeling, in some way, understood.
  “Introverts, in contrast, may have strong social skills and enjoy parties and business meetings, but after a while wish they were home in their pajamas. They prefer to devote their social energies to close friends, colleagues, and family. They listen more than they talk, think before they speak, and often feel as if they express themselves better in writing than in conversation. They tend to dislike conflict. Many have a horror of small talk, but enjoy deep discussions.”
   I kept rereading this passage. And then I read further. Introverts are the creators. They pay fine attention to detail. They get more emotional over beautiful things—say a poem, a song, a nature scene. And they get their energy from being alone. They need to—in a way—recharge their batteries after being sociable by being alone. The more I talked to my friends, the more I realized that I was not the only introvert amongst them. We live in a heavily extrovert-friendly society, and that means that life for introverts (especially in middle school and high school) is a little bit more difficult. Think about every class you’ve ever had, and how much emphasis is put on group work or class discussions. Think of how the loud-spoken are praised for being bold. Think of how the quieter people are labeled shy and so often dismissed in social settings.
   The more I think about it, the prouder I am that I am an introvert. Maybe that sounds stupid…I don’t know. But I do know this. The next time you see me sitting in a classroom, thoughtfully staring at my notes but refraining from voicing my opinions, know that I am not a thoughtless idiot just because my hand did not shoot into the air to rattle off something or another. I'm just contemplating. If I’m more soft-spoken when I first meet you, I promise, I’m not rude or boring. And when my novel becomes a bestseller, I don’t think I will regret all the nights I stayed in to work on it.
  So yeah. Embrace your extroversion, your introversion, whatever. Because the world does not spin successfully without both. And in light of it being almost midnight and I still haven’t finished studying for my Mythology exam, here is a cheesy joke. “Introverts unite…individually!”