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Something happens to me a lot. My husband Randy’s in a wonderful, local band. He, Warren, and Danny are a power trio, lighting up the local pubs and bars with great, danceable music. The crowds love them. It’s a great party. People are always asking what time I’ll be there. They assume I never tire of the songs! The shimmying! The laughter! The fun!

And yet so many times, I tell them I have other plans. They nod in understanding, never suspecting these other plans usually involve reading or watching TV—by myself.

Welcome to my world. My name’s Laurie. I’m an introvert. The few times I’ve confessed my real intentions, I’m met with a sad, puzzled look like I just announced I have leprosy or some odd, psychological defect.

Now, I have to say at this point, being introverted doesn’t mean I’m anti-social. I love and need my family and friends. I like to get rowdy and the rare times I go to Randy’s gigs, I’m one of the first on the dance floor. If something bugs me, I speak up.

On the other hand, I’m the person in the restaurant, when the third hour’s gearing up and everyone’s ordering another round and laughing and happy and jazzed, I’m looking at my watch. Not out of boredom—but fatigue. I’m talked-out. I’m listened-out. I’m socially tired.

I used to think something was wrong with me.

In my younger days, colleagues would go out after work for drinks, bowling, or shopping. On paper, it sounded fun, but just thinking about it left me drained. On the other hand, going home and cracking open the diary of Anais Nin or Amy Tan’s latest novel was energizing.

It wasn’t till reading the book, “Quiet” by Susan Cain I realized my strangeness had biological roots. Introverts and extroverts have different brain chemistries, even different nervous symptoms. Introverts get flooded faster from stimuli. We need to recharge more. Extroverts get energy from each other. Phew, I thought. This was the best news since hearing chocolate contained antioxidants. I’m still weird, but at least my weirdness has a name.

So there it is.

I can’t tell if my condition makes me artsy and interesting, or sad and pathetic. Whatever the case, my husband’s band’s playing again this weekend. Maybe I’ll go dance. Maybe I’ll stay home and read. Sigh. I think I already know which one I’ll choose.

 

How about you? Can you relate? Comments are always welcome, and if you’d like to receive posts by email, just press here. Thank you!

Comments(26)

  1. I can totally relate to this. The only difference being, I was primarily an extrovert until my mid 50’s. Now I avoid ‘ado’ more than relish it. I’ve stopped apologizing for it, too. It’s good that you can manage things as you see fit!
    b

      • Laurie Stone

      • 7 years ago

      Barbara, As we get older, we not only learn more about ourselves, but accept it all easier. I’ll never be one of my extroverted friends, with their super-human energy. But that’s okay. I’m good.

  2. OH sister, I feel you! I think life is easier as an introvert, at least now that I’m older. But I do remember feeling like a fish out of water when i was younger.

      • Laurie Stone

      • 7 years ago

      Carol, I found it so much easier when it had a name. I really thought I was strange and yes, “fish out of water” describes it perfectly. I’m not surprised so many writers are introverts. We like to think more than talk.

  3. I’m an introvert but in a funny way – I’m very sociable in small groups and among people I know, always up for a dinner or a paddle or sightseeing with friends. People see that and assume I’m an exuberant extrovert, but I absolutely NEED the occasional day to myself here and there, I love traveling on my own, and my favorite paddling adventure ever was the time I did a solo paddle down the Hudson River. A rainy day at home curled up with a book or cooking or messing around on the internet? Heaven.

    I have a tendency to overschedule myself, I actually have to be careful to hang onto the occasional day to myself or I can start getting short with people when it’s my own fault that I didn’t carve out the time I know I need.

      • Laurie Stone

      • 7 years ago

      Bonnie, I also get cranky if I “people” too much. That trip on the Hudson sounds heavenly. I also love a rainy day at home with a good book.

  4. I used to be more of a people person, a bit more extroverted. Probably because I was bored of my own company. But now… oh now I don’t mind alone at all. I still enjoy going out, in small groups of friends or family. But if I have to be in large groups or parties where you mingle and make small talk? Forget it. I almost have developed an anxiety and prefer to just quietly leave.

      • Laurie Stone

      • 6 years ago

      Michele, A party of strangers is my worst nightmare. I don’t like small talk, but I’ll be game for a while, and then (like you) quietly leave.

    • Kim

    • 6 years ago

    This is so me. I have a best friend who is extroverted, has never met a stranger and is always talkative and on the go. I love her, but sometimes she wears me out. We visit in small doses… But she’s handy to have around in awkward group situations… I don’t have to do the talking. Lol.
    I’ve always worked at home, alone, and people questioned me about loneliness. No, the feeling of loneliness is rare… Thanks for confirming I’m alone, but not alone in liking it that way.
    Kimberly
    Passing Down the Love AtoZ

      • Laurie Stone

      • 6 years ago

      I heard some writer say, “I’ve never had a bad time by myself.” I get that. People can be more dicey, although some can be wonderful. I’ve learned to pick and choose.

  5. I can absolutely relate, Laurie. My husband (his name was also Randy) was the extrovert, life of the party kind of guy. I could only handle so much of being around people and all the stimulation. I like people, but not that much 🙂

    Thanks for sharing!

      • Laurie Stone

      • 6 years ago

      Candi, My husband is also Randy and an extrovert! I sometimes wonder if opposites attract. He loves to stay till the end of the party. I usually am ready after half an hour.

    • Joy

    • 6 years ago

    Yep, me too! I have a low social threshold and saying ‘no’ to a social event just cos I’d rather curl up in bed and watch my tv shows (even my trash/mindless tv of real housewives!) doesn’t really sit well with a lot of people. I long for the day when I can just very comfortably decline and not have to make excuses.

      • Laurie Stone

      • 6 years ago

      Joy, I’m always trying to devise a proper social excuse besides, “I want to do nothing…by myself,” but have never gotten those words out. Glad I’m not the only one.

  6. Your bet I get it. I’m a therapist, and although I love what I do, I rarely or never plan anything at night after work. It’s not in me. I remember when I started blogging, my son commented that it was a weird activity for an introvert like his mom. I smiled. There’s a great book I’ve heard about called “Quiet.” It’s on my list to read.

      • Laurie Stone

      • 6 years ago

      Margaret, You should read “Quiet.” It answered many questions and even made me feel better about myself.

  7. I love people! And I love it when they go. Definitely an introvert!

      • Laurie Stone

      • 6 years ago

      Diane, It was wonderful when people like us finally got a name. Before, I thought I was just strange.

  8. It’s great that we’re understanding each other’s differences. Nice post.

      • Laurie Stone

      • 6 years ago

      Shari, Thank you. Maybe the world needs both kinds of people.

    • Rebecca

    • 5 years ago

    Raising my hand – I can totally relate!

      • Laurie Stone

      • 5 years ago

      Yay, Rebecca!

  9. This confirmed what I always kinda knew. I’m an extrovert. I actually get energized from being social. It’s harder for me to stay home and be content being alone. I now understand not to be offended when someone shuts down. I will know they are exhausted.

      • Laurie Stone

      • 5 years ago

      Lauren, How I wish I had your social energy. I envy people who can keep going. But I guess we are who we are.

  10. I feel you, girl. I do feel you. 100%

      • Laurie Stone

      • 6 months ago

      Carol, I’m not surprised. Most writers are introverts.

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