Introversion. You wonder if is innate or learned. Is it because you were raised as an only child? Is it because of early childhood trauma or simply because the birds used to laugh at you outside your window? “Mocking” birds, you later learned. Is it because you were raised in a cabin, with just your father and a wood stove for company? What came first, the chicken or the egg? You remember pretending to be ill when childhood friends asked you to play. You felt you couldn’t tell them the truth: that you just wanted to be alone.
You are on Facebook, see a meme: I’m staying inside, it’s too people-y out there, click Like.
It’s like this: as introverts we are inclined to work the night shift, in fire towers, on the homestead. We are willing to stop and look at the moon for a long period of time. We go on to ponder it and everything else within a moment that drags on for a night and the whole next day. We take security personally and are often the guardians of our homes. You go, I’ll stay here. We can almost sense the need to be in a tower somewhere. You always thought Rapunzel really had it made: that long golden hair, impassioned lover, and that bedroom all to herself with few visitors. Twenty four hours is almost not enough time to yourself, you’ve noticed. You could take weeks, a month, of solitude. You need it! You want to scream— as if the world should hand it to you. Your boyfriend leaves to Africa for three weeks and you were just getting used to the new routine when he comes home.
You read Barbara Kingsolver’s Prodigal Summer and High Tide in Tucson.
You can feel someone coming from a mile away.
No one ever sneaks up on you, yet you are often startled.
You are “sensitive” and there’s no way around that. Ever.
You cannot date or live with other sensitive people. ……Can’t one of you just go for a walk?
You take up writing.
You notice nuance everywhere.
You suck at wowing a room verbally.
You feel you are often interrupted or misunderstood.
You try to express yourself with as few words as possible.
You notice what everyone around you is doing, even feeling.
You’ve called in sick when really you just needed a “mental health day.”
You feel incredibly guilty, foolish, and weird for this.
You RSVP to parties then panic and not go.
Your one true desire is a full weekend at home.
You read Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking.
You prefer the company of just 2-3 friends over dinner or lunch (preferred).
You are a powerhouse one-on-one.
You let few people in but to those you do you are loyal.
You prefer letter-writing as a means of staying connected.
You would never, ever do social things three days in a row.
You are well rested.
You have secrets.
You are sensual.
You like to be in bed.
(some boyfriends find this sexy,
others are appalled.)
You enjoy you.
You notice everybody
else seems to
You pity them.
if you could
ever have a child,
if you should ever
have a child.
You prefer the
company of animals,
radio show hosts.
(But even they can
be too yappy.)