I’m Gary, and I’m an introvert.
It’s no big deal, really, but there it is. If you know me casually, you might be surprised. Close friends, on the other hand, will probably get it. They know I can hold my own in social situations, but every now and then I have to disappear to recharge my socializing power cells. I like to think of it as my way of being a superhero.
Maybe my tendency toward introversion is a result of growing up as an only child, with lots of alone time for reading, writing, listening to music, and staring at walls. When I was a kid, I could happily go an entire day without speaking to anyone, except for maybe my dog. As in the way of most beautiful things, I never appreciated those solitary moments until there were none in sight.
There are a lot of opinions, theories, and misconceptions out there about what it’s like to be a person with any kind of social tendency. The conventional wisdom goes like this: Extroverts are movers and shakers, introverts hide in dark closets, and ambiverts leave the closet door open just in case they feel like getting out for a while.
In the interest of definitions, then, when I say I’m an introvert, here are a few things I’m not saying:
I’m not shy, at least not in most situations. Sure, if I had to break out some mad Irish dance moves in front of a large group of people, I’d be a little nervous, but wouldn’t most of us? Okay, the born performers among us would probably view it as an opportunity to put on an impromptu Celtic cabaret. You know the ones I mean. Maybe you are the ones I mean.
Also, I’m not anti-social. I don’t seek out social gatherings, but I don’t flee them. Once I’m there, I might hang on the periphery until I find someone who also wants to talk about airplanes or 1980s heavy metal music, but I can mingle when necessary. And here’s the good news: If I’m not required to speak to you, but I do so anyway, that means I probably like you.
I don’t dislike public speaking, either. In fact, I’m pretty good at it. Good thing, too, since I’m a teacher, though I’ve always made the case that good teaching is more performance than lecture. I enjoy talking in front of groups of people, so long as I don’t have to opine on topics I find boring, such as Olympic sports or reality television.
Recently, I was at a professional event where a group discussion was underway. There were a number of folks in the crowd who had a lot to say, and I was content to sit and listen. As the talk went on, I nodded in agreement with a couple of points, and the facilitator singled me out.
“You’re agreeing,” she said. “Why don’t you tell us what you’re thinking?”
What I said to her was “I’m still weighing the evidence.”
What I wanted to say to her was “I don’t have to speak in order to think.”
That’s another thing about me: I don’t have to speak my mind. I’m not the kind of person who’d rather be drawn and quartered than let a stray thought pass unspoken. You might never hear my opinion in conversation or social media, and that’s okay. When necessary, I can pretend to be an extrovert, but my default is usually to listen and learn.
All this to say, if you leave me a voice mail, and it isn’t work-related, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. If it makes you feel better, just remember it’s not you, it’s me.
Unless you’re a jerk. Then it’s definitely you.
