For most of my life, I identified myself as quiet and introverted. I never saw myself as being a social person, so inevitably, others also assumed that same idea of me. Along with that, I was a good student and a hard worker. Combining those traits, I ended up with the identity of a “good girl”. In elementary and high school, I thrived in this persona: it brought me the academic and extracurricular achievement, and the praise of my teachers and family; external accomplishment, to be brief. However, I always struggled with the social side of things. As a quiet person, I found it hard to make genuine friends that I connected with on a deep level. Many times, I did prefer to be by myself, as it allowed me to energetically recharge, but that didn’t mean I didn’t occasionally want some company. Admittedly, I often appeared as if I didn’t want any friends (which was only partly the reality). The truth is, I simply had very little awareness of social cues and interactions, as my introverted nature hadn’t yet bestowed me with that experience.
As this introverted and awkward child, I was taken aback by the kids who were the opposite of me: loud, extraverted and bold. Then I began to observe how those kids could so freely express themselves without any fear and how they made friends so easily. Obviously, that kind of life looked wonderful to me, as I was the child who, because of her quiet nature, had a difficult time making friends. The logical equation I extracted from this observation was that quiet = bad. So, I forced extroversion upon myself, an endeavour that failed (quite hilariously in retrospect) time and time again.
It took many efforts at getting out of my social comfort zone to finally feel at ease having a casual conversation with people I was unfamiliar with. This only started to happen halfway through high school. I discovered in more recent years that I’m more outgoing than I always deemed myself to be. However, there has been a continuous internal battle with my new “outgoing” identity: I worry that I place pressure on myself to perform extroversion. I accept my quieter and more easily drained personality, yet when I’m around others, especially strangers, I’m convinced that anything other than constant, charming and friendly interaction is worthless. In my head, silence when with others is unacceptable.
In reality, this is simply not the case. Quiet is sometimes uncomfortable, but not inherently a bad thing. However, we’re trained to think otherwise. We often overlook introverts and the personalities that prefer to observe, process internally and savour the inevitable silence. Our world is focused on external productivity and engagement: if we can’t see it, it’s apparently non-existent. Therefore, extroverts naturally thrive in society, as they’re already energetically equipped for the high demand for performance and for the constant call to action that powers capitalism. Introverts, on the other hand, often feel overwhelming, anxiety-inducing pressure to perform productivity and to announce it to the world instead of enjoying their preferred quiet success.
As a collective, we have yet to fully comprehend the beauty and power of quiet and the people that naturally sustain it. Instead of going, going, going, all the time, there’s so much more value in embracing a softer side of life. When we accept the unavoidable existence of silence, we can begin to use it, instead of fighting it. When things are quiet, we can stop constantly sending information out into the world and we can listen.
Truly listening to ourselves and other people gives us a chance to grow. Even eating a meal accompanied by others who don’t talk, for example, there’s still an opportunity to pay attention. We can observe what’s going on and let our minds slow down, soaking at the moment.
We have much to learn from introverts, especially living in a world that convinces people their worth only exists in relation to social standings and hours worked (but only if you have a visible output). Let’s slow things down, quiet our minds and focus on internally fulfilling actions; no matter if we’re extraverted, introverted or somewhere in between, tapping into that hidden, undervalued part of ourselves can be truly enlightening.