Do
you know someone who needs hours alone every day? Who loves quiet
conversations about feelings or ideas, and can give a dynamite
presentation to a big audience, but seems awkward in groups and
maladroit at small talk? Who has to be dragged to parties and then needs
the rest of the day to recuperate? Who growls or scowls or grunts or
winces when accosted with pleasantries by people who are just trying to
be nice?
If so, do you
tell this person he is "too serious," or ask if he is okay? Regard him
as aloof, arrogant, rude? Redouble your efforts to draw him out?
If
you answered yes to these questions, chances are that you have an
introvert on your hands—and that you aren't caring for him properly.
Science has learned a good deal in recent years about the habits and
requirements of introverts. It has even learned, by means of brain
scans, that introverts process information differently from other people
(I am not making this up). If you are behind the curve on this
important matter, be reassured that you are not alone. Introverts may be
common, but they are also among the most misunderstood and aggrieved
groups in America, possibly the world.
I know. My name is Jonathan, and I am an introvert.
Oh,
for years I denied it. After all, I have good social skills. I am not
morose or misanthropic. Usually. I am far from shy. I love long
conversations that explore intimate thoughts or passionate interests.
But at last I have self-identified and come out to my friends and
colleagues. In doing so, I have found myself liberated from any number
of damaging misconceptions and stereotypes. Now I am here to tell you
what you need to know in order to respond sensitively and supportively
to your own introverted family members, friends, and colleagues.
Remember, someone you know, respect, and interact with every day is an
introvert, and you are probably driving this person nuts. It pays to
learn the warning signs.
What is introversion?
In its modern sense, the concept goes back to the 1920s and the
psychologist Carl Jung. Today it is a mainstay of personality tests,
including the widely used Myers-Briggs Type Indicator. Introverts are
not necessarily shy. Shy people are anxious or frightened or
self-excoriating in social settings; introverts generally are not.
Introverts are also not misanthropic, though some of us do go along with
Sartre as far as to say "Hell is other people at breakfast." Rather,
introverts are people who find other people tiring.
Extroverts
are energized by people, and wilt or fade when alone. They often seem
bored by themselves, in both senses of the expression. Leave an
extrovert alone for two minutes and he will reach for his cell phone. In
contrast, after an hour or two of being socially "on," we introverts
need to turn off and recharge. My own formula is roughly two hours alone
for every hour of socializing. This isn't antisocial. It isn't a sign
of depression. It does not call for medication. For introverts, to be
alone with our thoughts is as restorative as sleeping, as nourishing as
eating. Our motto: "I'm okay, you're okay—in small doses."
How many people are introverts?
I performed exhaustive research on this question, in the form of a
quick Google search. The answer: About 25 percent. Or: Just under half.
Or—my favorite—"a minority in the regular population but a majority in
the gifted population."
Are introverts misunderstood?
Wildly. That, it appears, is our lot in life. "It is very difficult for
an extrovert to understand an introvert," write the education experts
Jill D. Burruss and Lisa Kaenzig. (They are also the source of the
quotation in the previous paragraph.) Extroverts are easy for introverts
to understand, because extroverts spend so much of their time working
out who they are in voluble, and frequently inescapable, interaction
with other people. They are as inscrutable as puppy dogs. But the street
does not run both ways. Extroverts have little or no grasp of
introversion. They assume that company, especially their own, is always
welcome. They cannot imagine why someone would need to be alone; indeed,
they often take umbrage at the suggestion. As often as I have tried to
explain the matter to extroverts, I have never sensed that any of them
really understood. They listen for a moment and then go back to barking
and yipping.
Are introverts oppressed?
I would have to say so. For one thing, extroverts are overrepresented
in politics, a profession in which only the garrulous are really
comfortable. Look at George W. Bush. Look at Bill Clinton. They seem to
come fully to life only around other people. To think of the few
introverts who did rise to the top in politics—Calvin Coolidge, Richard
Nixon—is merely to drive home the point. With the possible exception of
Ronald Reagan, whose fabled aloofness and privateness were probably
signs of a deep introverted streak (many actors, I've read, are
introverts, and many introverts, when socializing, feel like actors),
introverts are not considered "naturals" in politics.
Extroverts
therefore dominate public life. This is a pity. If we introverts ran
the world, it would no doubt be a calmer, saner, more peaceful sort of
place. As Coolidge is supposed to have said, "Don't you know that four
fifths of all our troubles in this life would disappear if we would just
sit down and keep still?" (He is also supposed to have said, "If you
don't say anything, you won't be called on to repeat it." The only thing
a true introvert dislikes more than talking about himself is repeating
himself.)
With their endless
appetite for talk and attention, extroverts also dominate social life,
so they tend to set expectations. In our extrovertist society, being
outgoing is considered normal and therefore desirable, a mark of
happiness, confidence, leadership. Extroverts are seen as bighearted,
vibrant, warm, empathic. "People person" is a compliment. Introverts are
described with words like "guarded," "loner," "reserved," "taciturn,"
"self-contained," "private"—narrow, ungenerous words, words that suggest
emotional parsimony and smallness of personality. Female introverts, I
suspect, must suffer especially. In certain circles, particularly in the
Midwest, a man can still sometimes get away with being what they used
to call a strong and silent type; introverted women, lacking that
alternative, are even more likely than men to be perceived as timid,
withdrawn, haughty.
Are introverts arrogant?
Hardly. I suppose this common misconception has to do with our being
more intelligent, more reflective, more independent, more level-headed,
more refined, and more sensitive than extroverts. Also, it is probably
due to our lack of small talk, a lack that extroverts often mistake for
disdain. We tend to think before talking, whereas extroverts tend to
think by talking, which is why their meetings never last less
than six hours. "Introverts," writes a perceptive fellow named Thomas P.
Crouser, in an online review of a recent book called Why Should Extroverts Make All the Money? (I'm not making that
up, either), "are driven to distraction by the semi-internal dialogue
extroverts tend to conduct. Introverts don't outwardly complain, instead
roll their eyes and silently curse the darkness." Just so.
The
worst of it is that extroverts have no idea of the torment they put us
through. Sometimes, as we gasp for air amid the fog of their
98-percent-content-free talk, we wonder if extroverts even bother to
listen to themselves. Still, we endure stoically, because the etiquette
books—written, no doubt, by extroverts—regard declining to banter as
rude and gaps in conversation as awkward. We can only dream that
someday, when our condition is more widely understood, when perhaps an
Introverts' Rights movement has blossomed and borne fruit, it will not
be impolite to say "I'm an introvert. You are a wonderful person and I
like you. But now please shush."
How can I let the introvert in my life know that I support him and respect his choice? First, recognize that it's not a choice. It's not a lifestyle. It's an orientation.
Second, when you see an introvert lost in thought, don't say "What's the matter?" or "Are you all right?"
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