Are you an introvert or an extrovert? Which one am I? Let’s explore this.
First, some definitions. The two most common definitions I see for each word involve either shyness or how one feels after socializing. “Introvert” is usually defined either as being shy or feeling drained by social situations, and “extrovert” is usually defined either as being outgoing or feeling recharged by social situations. Although either definition can work here, I’m approaching this post from the definitions involving either feeling drained or recharged by socializing.
Although others have often characterized me as an introvert, I have several problems with that, aside from the attempt to put me into a box instead of getting to know me better. I often feel more energized after being around kind, easygoing humans; I almost always feel drained after being around cruel, stressed humans. Sometimes I feel better after talking with some of my best friends when I feel down, and other times I only feel better if I get time to myself. Does that sound like extroversion or introversion? It sounds like neither one to me. I think those terms are useless because, at some point, everyone has been in one the above four situations. Also, I bet that even the biggest self-described extroverts still need and appreciate alone time. If nothing else, they must appreciate getting away from humans who make their lives more difficult.
This whole approach seems to be an example of the false dichotomy fallacy, which occurs whenever a limited number of options are presented as they only possibilities when there are actually more options available. I think both extremes of introversion and extroversion are due to an overactive sympathetic nervous system brought on by trauma early in life (and sometimes even before birth due to inheriting trauma from one or both parents). If that’s correct, then healing that trauma will allow the parasympathetic nervous system to engage, which will drastically alter an individual’s sense of self and all of that person’s relationships.
If someone’s inner voice is especially prone to guilting and shaming them, then they may seek excessive interactions with others to drown out that voice. That could explain why, when there are external distractions to focus on for hours at a time, some people feel more energized around others; when they’re alone and constantly listening to that negative inner voice with few to no distractions, they’d feel drained. In fact, someone once told me this very thing about her experience.
Similarly, some people have a negative inner voice that becomes most active around others. If someone is quite good at ignoring that voice when alone but keeps being confronted by it when socializing, then it stands to reason that they would find social interactions draining and solitude refreshing. That is essentially my own experience.
There’s also the fear I’ve had from a young age of being brutally punished (particularly by being hit or yelled at, or both) if I do something someone else dislikes. This fear is especially present in new situations, around humans I haven’t yet met or gotten to know, and when I’m around anyone who seems to be feeling frustrated. When I’m alone, that fear is either nonexistent or at least minimized. I’m certain that that’s another huge part of why some social situations can drain me while time to myself recharges me.
Some folks have said that they’ve gotten more social over time, especially after healing from trauma. When all the pain that weighed them down for so long is gone, they are able to prevent or at least minimize feeling drained after interacting with others. Others say that they’ve gotten less social over time. This can sometimes result from trauma they’ve experienced, which puts them on edge constantly and makes them feel drained much more easily from social interactions.
This reminds me of one of the central points of The Celestine Prophecy: humans have forgotten how to fill themselves up, so they attempt to either take energy from others or prevent others from taking their energy. It’s interesting to see this play out in the real world. Humans will go to incredible lengths to either force others to interact with them or force them to stay away. I do this as well, although I haven’t always. I had much more courage overall as a kid than I do now. Sometimes I get a flash of that courage; in some cases, it’s more than a brief flash.
When I let go of a ton of fear in late 2021, I went for about a month without getting drained from any social interactions. There was little to no fear during that time, so I dropped my guard no matter who I was around or what I did. Keeping my guard up takes a lot of energy, and I’m convinced that feeling comfortable enough to drop my guard was why I felt much more energized during that time. In addition to having much less fear to suppress, I also didn’t feel worried about how any interactions went. It was pretty easy during that time to either shrug off interactions that were suboptimal or shift them toward a better direction. Also, it took no effort to say or do anything in those interactions. It was as if I instantly knew the best thing to do. I felt indestructible that whole time.
In contrast, my guard was up almost constantly last year due to insanely high levels of fear and pain after my dog Sawyer died. Sawyer did so much for my emotional and mental health. In addition to making it easier to go out into the world, he also made it easier to bounce back from interactions with cruel humans, unmet expectations, injuries, and other painful experiences. Now Sawyer is not here to start my day off well before I go out, and he’s also not here to make a bad day better (or a good day great). Without him, I felt much more afraid of running into negativity. Managing that fear takes a huge amount of energy and can make even brief interactions with others incredibly draining.
Now I’m somewhere in between those extremes of courage and fear. Occasionally I feel nearly as courageous as I did in September 2021, and other times I feel as afraid as I did for most of 2022. I feel best when I interact with animals. They give and take roughly equally, and they always put a smile on my face and make me feel better afterward than I did beforehand. With humans, I feel best around those who are the most like me. I’m likely to get along well with anyone who does lots of listening without much talking, enjoys silence, gives others room to share, and talks about things that whoever they’re talking to also wants to talk about. I rarely feel drained after interacting with those kinds of folks and sometimes I even feel better. On the flip side, I’ll most likely not get along with someone who monopolizes the conversation, talks over everyone, never lets more than a few seconds of silence go by before resuming speaking, and talks only about their own interests. I will feel drained if I spend more than a few minutes interacting with anyone who does that.
In addition to the above, I feel best in any given interaction when I operate as I like. That includes staying quiet when I have nothing to say, talking at my own pace, pausing to gather a response before responding to what someone else has said, and leaving situations when I’m ready to leave. I feel bad when I attempt to force myself to speak, match pace with someone who speaks more quickly than I do, react immediately after someone finishes talking, and stick around well past the time I want to go. Essentially, the more I act differently than how I truly am, the worse I feel. The more I act in alignment with my true self, the better I feel.
I much prefer this way of looking at complex human personalities and relationships to the simplistic approach of putting everyone into one of two categories. Even though some folks close to me have expressed similar sentiment in the past, I still see lots of humans trying to fit everyone into a box. I hope that a more nuanced look at this stuff will become commonplace over the course of my life. Only time will tell which way it’ll go.