For most of my life, “introvert” felt like a bad word. When I was growing up, if you weren’t outgoing and didn’t enjoy being the center of attention, it was seen as weird. Labels like “quiet” and “reserved” felt less like categories and more like judgments. It didn’t feel like there was much space in the world for people who weren’t always clamoring to be in the center ring.
This thinking also set us up to put people into one of two categories. Introverted or extroverted. There was no middle ground. You either fit neatly into one box or the other so we knew what to call you. In addition, I’ve heard the misconceptions that if you’re introverted, you’re anti-social and if you’re extroverted, you’re the life of the party. I love being social. I just have a time limit. Introversion and extroversion are mostly about how people recharge best, but because of existing narratives and our incessant need to put people into categories, it can be exhausting to navigate it all. This is also potentially why I struggled so much with trying to figure out where I belonged.
Have you seen those banners you can get for parties with special messages? Instead of “Happy Birthday”, they now make ones that say “Please Leave By 9”. I feel like that’s a perfect metaphor for how I operate.
Even though I’m mostly introverted, I’m not 100% introverted. I do have a bit of extrovert in me. She loves to connect with friends, go to parties, concerts, sporting events…but when she’s had her fun? She’s DONE. The introvert in me has gotten really good at tapping the extroverted part of me on the shoulder when it’s time to call it. Have you seen those banners you can get for parties with special messages? Instead of “Happy Birthday”, they now make ones that say “Please Leave By 9”. I feel like that’s a perfect metaphor for how I operate. I love you. I want to spend time with you. But I will need you to exit stage left when my battery dies.
I’ve always been an internal processor—someone who likes to go deep. Small talk bores me to tears. I’m not nearly as interested in what you think of the weather as I am about the last time you felt complete joy or worked through something really difficult. You’ll often find me asking questions like, “What was happening for you at that time?” “What did you find most meaningful about that moment?” Those are the answers I really want to know. I don’t mind some small talk and understand that we need it in our world, but if that’s all our conversations consist of, you’ll probably find me struggling to maintain eye contact while wondering what the barista behind the counter at the coffee shop we’re at is planning to do on her break. Or why the person in the corner booth has a worried expression on their face. Are they anxious about a loved one? Studying for a final exam? Trying to work through a leg cramp?
Transitioning into the professional world, I often felt as though I couldn’t truly be myself and that my potential and talent wasn’t seen the same way because I didn’t “show up” in the manner my more extroverted colleagues did. On multiple occasions, I’d be in casual conversation with coworkers on a project and inevitably, someone would say about someone else, “Well, you know they’re an introvert right?” as if it was some sort of horrible affliction. It was usually said in hushed tones so as not to offend said introvert if they happened to be walking by. (FYI, the introverts in question usually know someone is talking about them because as it turns out, they tend to be fairly perceptive.) In those moments, I could literally feel the shame wash over me as I tried to smile and quickly come up with some sort of contribution to the conversation so that I wouldn’t be labeled with the same ghastly title.
I’m saying this as much to myself as I am to you: there is no shame in being exactly who you are.
I thought there was no way I was ever going to be accepted or successful unless I could beat that poor, tired, little introverted part right out of myself. I would consistently ramp myself up so that I could appear the way I thought I should. It wasn’t until recently when I realized that in doing that, I had been betraying myself. Over and over again. It was time to stop.
I’m saying this as much to myself as I am to you: there is no shame in being exactly who you are. That doesn’t mean we don’t grow or change. But trying to twist yourself into a shape that doesn’t feel right while trying to convince yourself that it’s in the interest of your growth and development is something else entirely.
So how do I (sometimes clumsily attempt to) navigate this? The first step is to tackle self-judgment. That tenacious and relentless beast. Look it right in the eyes and thank it for trying to protect you, but then tell it that you’ve got this and you don’t need it to be in the forefront anymore. If I’m in a place where I have to fundamentally change who I am to be fully valued and appreciated, that’s not the place for me. If you’re struggling with this same thing right now, I’m here to deliver a message. There are places where you can be yourself. Where the people will celebrate the very things that other environments you’ve experienced didn’t. Where you can share your gifts, exactly as you are. Keep searching. Those places are out there. I promise. While no situation is perfect, you’ll know the right one when you find it.
Even when you find a good spot to land, there are always challenges to tackle. We know that there’s value in having a mix of extroverts and introverts on a project, but we have not yet perfected how to get the most out of those moments and experiences. If we’re still having our meetings in the same ways we always have, then we’re not doing those conversations justice. If we’re still operating under the assumption that meetings are the only effective ways to collaborate, we’re missing the mark. And also missing out on a whole lot of great ideas that might never see the light of day because of the limited ways in which we view how to get work done.
In my life outside of work, I have friends who fall into the introverted box, the extroverted box, and all the boxes in the middle, and I can say with absolute certainty that my life is so much richer for it. The thing I love the most is that we just get each other. Instead of being ashamed of who we are, we recognize it and appreciate it. We find the joy in it. When I’m hanging out with my most extroverted friend, it’s like they can literally see a battery icon on my forehead. When it gets to the red zone, they give me the biggest of hugs and say, “Let’s connect again soon!”
How wonderful would it be if we all did that for each other?
To all my brilliantly exuberant extroverts: I see you. I honor you. Yes, I’ll go to that concert or party. I’ll dance until 2AM (as long as it’s not two nights in a row).
To all of the ambiverted in-betweeners: I see you. I honor you. I’ll always be up for trying something that sounds energizing to us both. Even if it’s a mishmash of seemingly unrelated activities. I’m down.
To all my fellow introverts: I see you. I honor you. And I’ll always leave by 9.
Follow the Spark 