Why Introverts are Doing Alright

extroversion: the act, state, or habit of being predominantly concerned with and obtaining gratification from what is outside the self 

I am an extrovert. My world consists of snatching violent passionate moments zipping about my external circumstances. Contrary to what American values and culture would suggest, extroversion has nothing to do with one’s capacity to love well, connect meaningfully with others, or find “big-time” success. It’s a neutral personality trait that can be manipulated into good or evil.

introversion: the state of, or tendency toward being wholly or predominantly concerned with and interested in one’s own mental life

I don’t read any piece in that definition suggesting awkwardness or inferiority that would suggest an introvert ought to morph into a gregarious, bubbly individual. That idea terrifies me, actually. Nobody would ever shut up. We’d be a world of dancing, cackling monkeys.

Don’t get me wrong, I love extroverts too. We need both in our society to temper the weaknesses and pull the other out of that wretched, infamous “Comfort Zone”. But the older I get, the more I feel I’ve heard the praises sung for that hero full of vivacious energy, boldness, and booming confidence that smashes their opponent’s ego into the ground as they charge on to fulfilling their destiny. I’d like to devote a few words to the equally admirable traits of the other group of humanity.

Just about every last person I connect with on the richest level of life would classify themselves (and correctly so) as an introvert. They are occupied primarily with the workings of the mind and cheerfully slide into the role of listener and observer when the group gathers together.

Some recent studies suggest that “contrary to popular belief, it is often introverts not extroverts who make the best leaders, because they listen well and have great emotional empathy—skills useful for getting the most out of your team.” (Berkeley) There are also commentaries on how American culture tries to “drive the shy” out of people because somehow it’s not OK; far too often, introverts are the victims of adolescent bullying and many walk a long road to self-worth. I’ve seen this with those closest to me in my life. I have watched over the years as they have encountered brash individuals picking them apart for their “fewer friends”, less dating experience, so-called strange hobbies (who decided sports were cooler than computers??) and their fierce focus on the mind. I know that they are shaping their world into a more beautiful masterpiece because of their personal depth.

I know there are reserved people who will find joy and benefit from pushing themselves to communicate more boldly but outgoing individuals will also find a surreal happiness from stepping out of the limelight and interacting with the magical wallflowers laughing in the wings. I have been permanently changed by painfully shy individuals and I feel grateful to have been born into a family who accepts my explosive self while teaching me to listen in between the differences.

Bless Them Who Persecute You

Today’s character remains anonymous on account of the personal nature of her story. For the narrative’s sake, I’ll name her Esther. I met her on a loved-worn porch tucked into the nothings of the Eastern back country. While our initial encounter included silent prayers and shrieking swears (from myself and her respectively), within a matter of minutes we found ourselves gripping each other’s hands as we shared the dark contents of our personal closets.

And let me tell you, Esther keeps a mighty intense closet. The woman witnessed a suicide, clung to substances, left the love of her life when he discovered how to create the sensation of “punch-drunk”, forgave him when he repented, gave birth to two children and cared for her parents until they slept in this world and woke up in the next. And she managed to perform these Herculean labors on a budget that could never seem to commit.

One time, Esther told me that when she started following the doctrine of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, she felt like a tree in bloom. I hope she still feels that way.

Today, she told me that last night she snapped. She forced her belligerently drunk husband to sleep on the porch, falling asleep to her tears and his door-pounding. Amid all her toxic loneliness, she said,

I told him 6 years ago that he could come back if he wouldn’t drink. Last night he said, “You’re kicking me out of my home,” and I said, “As long as you’re angry and drunk, this isn’t your home. I just can’t do this anymore. I’m not going to put up with it.” And then I shoved him away.

Right when I opened my mouth to applaud her strength and self-respect, she whispered,

I shouldn’t have done that.

I shut that mouth of mine. I proceed to the end of this post with caution. I do not mean to suggest that she should have allowed him in or that women should always take back alcoholic husbands. I refuse to play judge. What I do mean to suggest is that Esther’s compassion for her husband serves as a beautiful contrast to the vengeful rage that’s so in vogue these days. Her strength didn’t change. She knows she can’t enable potentially dangerous behavior and she possesses the willpower to draw the line where she needs to.

But she would do it differently if she could.

She escaped the stabbing bitterness that engrosses so many of us injured souls when the world would have accepted her tirades as valid. She chose to love even when she wasn’t obligated. She chose mercy when she could have chosen judgment. She relinquished her control so she could have room to hold onto empathy. I hope to follow her example.

Ciao until next time.

Laundromats Want Everyone To Be Friends: Part Two

My dear friends and readers,

My apologies on the long delay in writing. I experienced a brief, though intense, sensation of vulnerability with my writing and doubted my capacity to express the power of stories. I decided to ignore my feelings until magically, they evaporated and now I no longer care. Shall we proceed on to the second friend I met?

Here is a photograph to whisk you away to the wonderful magic land of The Laundromat:

Today is about Jeremy.

I don’t have a picture of Jeremy but imagine one of those men so tall and commanding they seem to own the room the minute they walk in. Then, swirl around the concept that the tall and commanding gentleman also emanates love for strangers laundering pants. If you did this task, you would have a vague foundation of Jeremy’s immediate character.

You know what I liked about Jeremy? He didn’t care if he butted into a conversation. I loved it. Lindsey and I chatted away merrily when Jeremy jumped in with his own experiences and feelings. Don’t get me wrong; he didn’t rocket-launch the conversation into selfish oblivion. He just heard folks smashing away social barriers and wanted to hammer at it himself.

He told me about how he married a lovely girl less than a year ago and we swapped anecdotes on the sublime and bizarre transition into marriage. I sadly did not jot down notes on our conversation, so you get one little highlight from our talk. I asked him some poorly-phrased and excessively lame question about what he felt surprised him the most about marriage. His answer:

How humbling it is. I didn’t know I could love someone that intensely.

After a lifetime of jokes from those demeaning their spouses along with cautionary tales of impending emotional, marital doom, this fit into the rare category of hopeful honesty. I suspect he knows his wife’s tragic flaws but I like that I don’t know if he does or not. Even though we talked at length on our marriages, all I know is that he feels she changed him. Cheers to a married human who doesn’t bash their spouse.  [click here for a lovely short article on spouse-bashing]

Ciao until next time.