This week, I talked on the phone three times. On purpose.
Maybe this is no big deal to you, but it’s a very big deal for someone like me who could text, e-mail or message for hours but who can’t pick up the phone for an unknown number if her life depended on it. Sometimes, I have to give myself a pep talk or make a promise like “After you make this call, you can go lie down and read” before I dial a number. Sometimes I have to rehearse what I’m going to say, and if a question on the other end deviates from my script, well, then things get awkward.
So, let me tell you about these phone calls. The first one was about a book a friend and I are both reading and it started as a video call but because of technology it turned into a regular phone call. This friend and I are reconnecting over some shared struggles and beliefs and we talked for well over an hour at night after our kids were in bed. It was so fulfilling I had trouble winding down and going to sleep.
A few nights later, I called the most extroverted person I know and we talked for TWO HOURS, sometimes rehashing the same things we were talking about an hour earlier, but it was another conversation that flowed without ceasing and left me feeling full and satisfied. (The third phone call was because my computer was acting up. I don’t like to make calls to customer service centers, but for my computer, I’d do just about anything.)
By the end of the week, though, I needed a nap.
Photo by jurien huggins on Unsplash
This is one of the many mysteries of my introverted life.
It’s actually not so mysterious to other introverts. We sort of understand each other and the need to recharge after social interactions. In the past, I think I have misrepresented myself and other introverts by loudly declaring how much I don’t like people, but what I meant to say is I can only take so much “peopling” and then I need to crawl into my den of hibernation and come back out when I feel ready. This can take anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours. (On rare occasions, it is a full day.)
Not only did I participate willingly in these phone calls, I also hosted a Labor Day get together with a couple of families from church. This is no small feat on the last day of a four-day weekend when I’ve been home with my children the WHOLE TIME. Exhibit A: On Sunday, day three of four-day weekend, I threw my phone down and yelled, “Why are there always people in every room I’m in?” or something equally disparaging. (I love my family. I do. But please find another room of the house to be in. Can I get an “amen” from some other introverts?)
More and more I’m finding a lot of joy in opening our home to people. It takes a lot of pre-work such as cleaning and making food, and sometimes it takes a lot of post-work, such as an early bedtime, but it’s always such fun, especially when I can make it as low-key as possible. I cannot be the center of attention, but I’m learning that I thrive at bringing people together and watching them make magic in their conversations and enjoyment of being together.
This is a new discovery for me–the idea that me, an introvert, someone who likes to fade into the background and virtually disappear can have an important role in life and society. The extroverts always get the attention, which sometimes is interpreted as them being more important. But I’d venture a guess that for all the extroverts out there getting attention, there are at least a dozen introverts making a quiet impact on the world around them.
We’re not flashy, but we can light the world up when we want to.
Confession: I don’t always want to. Mostly because I don’t want to leave my house. And I’m not saying it’s a requirement that to make a difference in the world I have to leave my house, but there is a lot of potential “out there” and the more I embrace my place in the world, the easier it is to leave what’s comfortable. For a time.
(I could also call this section of the post “yes, I’m an introvert who has a job outside my house and loves it.”)
I was a quiet kid in school so I’m drawn to the quiet kids. And that’s a good thing. I used to think I couldn’t work with kids of any age because I spent a couple of weeks over several summers being a camp counselor–a position that was highly extroverted that I never quite fit–and all I wanted to do was get to know kids one-on-one or sit on the sidelines with the ones who didn’t want to play the goofy games. I thought there was something wrong with me because I wasn’t interested in being a wacky personality for the week.
Turns out, the quiet introverted kids need leaders and role models like them. I sure did when I was their age. Now I know that it’s a unique role I can play in the world around me. Not everyone has to be loud and exciting all the time. I consider myself a calm and steady presence.
It’s no longer such a mystery to me why I am the way I am. I’m learning to love it and lean in to it and do what I need to be the best version of me. (I’m not ignoring your call or text, I’m recharging. #sorrynotsorry)
Sometimes us introverts are seen as moody or stuck-up or angry or I don’t know, other unfriendly terms. (I know I have a serious case of RBF–look it up if you don’t know–that makes me unapproachable sometimes.) Really, though, I’m just often looking for the most comfortable situation to be in, or I’m thinking about a conversation I had with someone 24 hours ago. Or a week ago. My face might not have anything to do with the present moment. (This is another mystery–a contradiction, really. Presence is one of my gifts but I can also be totally absent from what’s going on right in front of me because of what’s going on in my mind.)
Photo by Gary Bendig on Unsplash
I’m not sure I really have a neat and tidy point to this whole post. I’m not really in a season where I feel like I have any of those to offer anyway. I guess if I did it would be to love your introvert friends even when they seem like they’re avoiding you. And maybe don’t be afraid to be the one to draw them out of their comfortable shells.
We’re not as scary as we look.