So What If I Like to Be Alone?

Where do you mostly find stimulation? Do you prefer the company of others for energy, or are you mainly excited by the calmness of your own inner world, and all of the unique things that it has to offer? For a second, this sounds oxymoronic. How could you derive energy from activities that regularly suppress energy, like playing video games, listening to music, and watching movies?

As almost everyone is probably aware of by now, the phenomenon I am discussing is known as introversion, and introversion, like many things, falls on a spectrum. It’s possible to display characteristic tendencies of reservation and reclusiveness while also demonstrating a marked enthusiasm for group settings and get-togethers. Therefore, it would be unwise of you to classify yourself as 100% introverted or 100% extraverted when elements of the opposite dimension factor into your behavior across multiple situations.

Personally, I try to avoid labels at all costs; I don’t like labeling myself as “this” or “that” because it is overly reductive. I certainly don’t like labeling myself as an introvert because it’s a lazy way of summing up my personality. Rather, I would prefer to say that I possess a predominately introverted brain because, while I am almost always happy to hang out with my friends, I won’t always feel comfortable when catching up with distant relatives or delivering a presentation in class.

There is a downside to living inside my head, though. Because my brain is predominately introverted, I fall on just about the farthest end of the introversion spectrum that you can imagine, if such a spectrum exists. Consequently, I miss out on a lot of the luxuries more extraverted people are able to enjoy every day. One of these luxuries may be striking up a conversation for the first time and potentially initiating a meaningful relationship. Keep in mind, however, that this does not mean I am shy or afraid to socialize. It just means that it’s hard for me to conjure up the willpower to socialize, as doing so would exhaust a great deal stamina. Still, once the words start flowing and dialogue is exchanged, I’m hugely relieved.

The main issue I have is with the production of spoken as opposed to written language. After prolonged social encounters, I become what I would like to call “socially exhausted.” I’ve tested it empirically, too, and my cutoff for socializing is about 90 minutes to 2 hours, depending on my mood, the amount of sleep I’m running on, and other factors. By that time, I no longer feel like talking anymore. I speak in three word sentences, stutter, make speech errors, and sometimes struggle to even find words to say, whereas when I am just meeting up with somebody, words come to me effortlessly.

There are times where I think of my introversion as a disability, but I’ve learned to simultaneously appreciate it for what it is. I thrive on solitude, and I don’t really mind it. I endure fewer arguments and disagreements with other people, explore facets of my consciousness that I don’t normally pay attention to, and derive pleasure from introspection and careful analysis of my feelings. That, I believe, is one of my better qualities.

The truth is, this poor introverted brain that I’m stuck with? I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

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Fundamental Living

I like to write about whatever fascinates me.

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