Misread

Image cotributed by the author

I am an introvert, a child of a long line of introverts. Maybe it’s my Scots-Irish heritage since many in my family share the same approach to life. Maybe it’s shyness or simple contrariness, but it is who I am.

To many, especially in today’s rah-rah world, we are backward, not engaged because we shun Meta, TikTok, and Instagram. People’s faces register their shock when I tell them I’m not on social media, and I know they think, “What’s wrong with her?” They ask, “Don’t you want to know who’s doing what? How do you keep up with people? Don’t you care?” Yes, I care. For me, that is what phones are for a real conversation. I talk to my granddaughter in Arizona, to my friends in Illinois, and to my brother. The tone of their voices, the energy or lack of it, tells me if they are relaxed and happy or sad and stressed. I listen, as they do to me.

Nothing is wrong with me or with the millions of other introverts out there. We process the world in a different way and arrive at our conclusions along a different path. We ponder, evaluate, and then act. We are not wasting time. We are using it in the best way we know.

An example of the extrovert/introvert difference is in the way each looks for a lost item, let’s say keys. My friend Lara is an extrovert. When she loses her keys, she paces the living room, asking out loud, sometimes very loud, “Where are my keys? Where did I put them? How could I lose my keys?” All the while she darts from room to room, talking to herself or anyone within earshot and gesticulating with her arms.

I, the introvert, also lose my keys. I sit quietly and think, “Where did I last see them?” I picture in my head where they could possibly be and retrace my movements, all the while in stillness. In the end, both Lara and I find our keys.

Which way is better? Neither. It’s the way we are wired from the beginning.

As an introvert, I need time alone, time to exist without doing, talking, or socializing. My friends, many of them introverts themselves, understand this need as I do theirs. Members of my poetry group sit for minutes in contemplation of a poem offered for discussion. We read it to ourselves after hearing it read aloud. We consider our reaction before we speak. We take our time to savor the words and to examine the lines and consider doing so as an honor to the poet.

It is the extroverts we need to be careful with. We don’t want them to misread our need for solitude as a personal slight. After a day of volunteering at the homeless shelter where I talk with many people, I don’t want to go to a neighbor’s cocktail party and chat about the latest kitchen makeover someone is doing. On another day when I have had time to myself, such a gathering may be fun but not when I have depleted my energy engaging with others all day. Of course, I risk being considered aloof, unfriendly, or misanthropic, but that is a reaction I understand and accept.

Several good books have been written about introverts. Quiet by Susan Cain and The Introvert’s Way by Sophia Dembling are two of my favorites. These books have helped me understand and accept that I am okay, as are the extroverts who bring energy and dynamism to our lives. As introverts, our contributions to the world may be quieter but no less powerful. Together, as opposites, we create a balance to an often hectic world.

I live just outside Lancaster, PA, where my husband and I retired to live closer to family. I write every day as I can and am working on poetry and flash fiction, both of which are a challenge for me.