I’m an Introvert, and That’s Okay.

A friend recently linked to this article on introverts, and I’m demanding everyone who knows me read it.

Unlike the woman in the article, I actually came into this world a raging extrovert. (I’ve pointed this out in the past.) But I also grew up in a neighborhood with few kids my age, so I ended up playing alone a lot. That was fine by me, I took the companionship of other kids when I could get it.

My journey through my teen years, however, landed me in a dorm full of other teenage girls whose interests were all very different from mine. Any desire to be around them left every time one of them opened her mouth. Then, I discovered that my temper got a lot shorter if I had to be in constant contact with people, and if I was stuck in a noisy place full of people, it was infinitely worse.

Both are actually still very, very true.

I need down time. I need time away from people, time to sit in my choice of noise, time to reflect on whatever is currently tumbling through my head. I’ll admit, the fact that my brain is always processing something also probably plays heavily into my search for my solitude. It just becomes far too much input.

But people love me, and so they try to shoo me out the front door, or out of my cave, with the best intentions. They need contact. They need to get out. They don’t get how I can be okay with restricting my own contact with the human race.

The article really does a great job of explaining that, actually. Alone isn’t lonely for me, and I know I can reach out to people when I’m ready. I’m even slowly learning to be defensive of my solitude when I just really need the down time.

There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m just an introvert, and I’ll let you know when I’m capable of being your definition of “normal”.

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