“She’s off in a corner with her head in a book.”
To this day, I can still hear my mother saying that to my 12-year-old self. And with this pronouncement, she wasn’t offering a compliment.
I loved books. I loved reading. Yes, I loved summer because I could do even more reading.
And it’s not that my mother disapproved of reading. She just thought I did entirely too much of it.
Along with those remarks about my reading habit, would come urging from her to be less anti-social. I should have some friends over. A party, perhaps. And I did. Parties that essentially my mother planned and I executed. So I could get back to my reading.
Yes, she was worried that I was not social enough. Maybe she worried I would never have boyfriends. Never get married. Never have a child. I don’t know.
She didn’t ever use the term, but as I recall those early years, it was clear from the start that I was an introvert. And my mother was not.
Years ago I took the Myers-Brigg type indicator, and found out for sure I was an introvert. Now, my mother’s idea was that introverts were shy people. Anti-social. I had learned to function in an extroverted fashion when necessary. But I couldn’t sustain that forever.
I think I understood it best when I was flying back from Washington, D.C., having spent a week teaching a corporate seminar. It was Friday night. The flight was delayed. On the same flight was my supervisor. He was walking up and down the aisles, chatting with people. It was Friday night and he was still going. And me? Well, I was back in my seat, curled up with . . . yes, with a book.
I understood introversion then and a deep level. I was exhausted at having spent a week with people. I had to recharge, and the way I did that was to be alone—even on an airplane. My supervisor was recharging as extroverts do—by being with people.
I started thinking about the introvert extrovert continuum recently, when I read the book Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop Talking, by Susan Cain.
I felt reaffirmed. I felt okay about not wanting to go to loud noisy bars, or crowded parades. I felt okay about preferring intimate dinner parties, or only talking to two or three people at bigger parties. I felt okay about needing time to be alone, because, as Cain says, “solitude matters.”
If you haven’t read the book (and I do recommend it, whether or not you are an introvert), you can get a flavor of what she has to say by listening to this TED talk.
Reading the book, and listening to Susan Cain talk, I am again appreciative of what I am. And, I am encouraged to be accepting of extroverts and how they function in ways different from mine.
So, what is it for you? Are you an introvert or extrovert? Have you ever felt like the world wanted you to be different than you are?
