At last, I’ve come to terms with who I am … or at least I’ve come to terms with an elemental part of my overall design.
I am an introvert.
The inherently funny thing about us introverts is that we would never band together, much less unite. We don’t gather in groups and discuss what makes us introverts. To do so would indeed go against our very nature and perhaps even acknowledge the presence of a “design flaw.” And, it would sap every last ounce of energy we have.
I’ve learned what makes us tick … what winds us up and what makes us wind down.
Introverts get wound up (we recharge) by spending time alone, by having down time. We enjoy our solitude. It refreshes us, makes us more productive workers and enriches the time we spend playing. It enables us to enjoy each and every minute spent hobnobbing with friends. When an occasion calls for it, we mingle (and we do it well).
But, we have a saturation point — a point as individual as we are and a point when we, by nature, wind down, when we simply have no energy left to give.
I know when I reach that point. It’s when I find myself longing to escape a crowded room, longing to curl up with a cup of steaming minty tea and lose myself in that book (the one that’s been patiently waiting for me to pay it some heed, to blissfully leaf through its pages).
It’s when I find my attention drawn — some enchanted evening, across a crowded room — not to a stranger, but to a hearth where, lingering for moments, I forget that I am surrounded by people.
It’s when I’ve finished speaking to someone and I’m momentarily distracted by an opening in the trees — a trail beyond the windows and the drone of conversations — and find myself looking for my shoes, slipping them on and soon find my hand on a doorknob, longing to retreat — to walk with only one or two or alone in quietude, listening to the sounds with no expectation to converse or even think … but just to be.
We’re misunderstood, you know. We’re often referred to with such misnomers as shy, quiet or snobbish. Occasionally, though, we catch a knowing glance cast our way by some kindred soul … someone who knows …
By someone who knows we are like deep-flowing water, with much to be discovered in the depth of our soul … but please … only in groups of two or three … or a foursome. Beyond that, it’s getting a little crowded and we’re loosening our neckties or looking for our shoes.
I can give my full attention to my beloved spouse, to a trusted friend or to a colleague. I can give it to another couple, or — on a good day or evening — to several more. I can sit quite comfortably in a group of six or eight (for several hours at least). Then, once again I find myself, as inconspicuously as possible, scouting for a breath of fresh air by the nearest exit. Even a trip to the Ladies’ Room, or someplace less austere, is a welcome, albeit temporary, reprieve.
I love inviting a house full of people over on holidays or special occasions. I set the pace; I put on some easy-listening music … Kenny G or some stirring Soul music. I light candles and, when friends arrive, I’m relaxed. I give it my all; with all of my attention and energy, I play the extrovert, with gusto and finesse.
This Christmas was no exception. We had a small crowd … ten this time. We ate more than we should have, played a rousing game of Pit, then flopped in overindulged contentedness onto sofas and chairs and whatever other comfortable surface we could find. It was relaxed. It was wonderful.…
But …
When the evening was over, I dimmed the lights, boiled the kettle and leaned gratefully into the corner of our loveseat, enjoying my steaming scented tea, the sound of nothing at all, and the deliciousness of some dolce far niente.
I think I would like to meet other introverts (in small groups, of course) to exchange thoughts about how we do life; and I wonder if any introverts out there secretly share the same desire — to meet, converse, compare notes.
I am an introvert.
And, I like who I am. I’m not shy, as I once thought. And, it’s not a curse I need to rise above. I enjoy people; I’m a good listener; I love thoughtful, insightful conversation.
Being an introvert is a strength, not a weakness.
So, I think we should unite — at least in spirit — and celebrate what makes us so unique.
And so it is with great boldness and anticipation, and with only the slightest reservation that I say, “Introverts unite! (?)"