I attended the loveliest party a few weeks ago and have been carrying a small happy echo of it with me ever since. We were a group of 20 or so women, gathered for a night in a magical location to celebrate a special event for one of our number. It all added up to a glowing treasure within our grey January lives.
But there was a niggle, a hesitation I felt that somehow held me back from absorbing the best of this enchanted night away as fully as I should have. Why? Because I am an introvert, a personality type that can manage only so much social interaction before falling over, at least inside my head.
The niggle struck after dinner, when the evening was winding down in a most elegant fashion. Think Downton Abbey characters retreating to the drawingroom for cigars, digestifs and engaging conversation. Throw in some laughs, a bit of classy singing and poetry recital, and you get the picture.
My problem was that I was spent, kaput, done. I had passed the day in other people’s excellent company, but now I had hit my limit and moved well past it. It was like an alarm going off inside me that only I could hear: time to leave; time to get away from the group; time to be on your own; time for quiet. I just had to escape, despite knowing this was probably one of the most entertaining experiences I would have all year. Everybody else in the room looked to be thriving: the lucky extroverts.
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When you read about introversion in the more reliable corners of the internet, there’s usually a checklist of characteristics such as feeling tired after being in a crowd, preferring to write rather than talk, and needing to be alone in order to rest. They all get a big tick from me, especially the writing one.
This is probably why I text my friends about 500 times every day but would never think of calling them on an actual phone. In fact, if any them saw my name on their ringing handset, they would instantly know something big was wrong.
The best description of this feeling that I’ve found, again on the wonderful internet, is that we’re all like bottles and, all else being equal, we start a day or evening at about two-thirds full. The lucky extroverts go out and enjoy chats and laughter and feel their level rise to the top of the bottle as they gain energy from others. We introverts still enjoy the company, but feel our levels decline as the number of interactions rises, each depleting our contents until we can offer no more. Both personalities will have had a good time and will probably even have been good company, but one will be energised at the end, the other exhausted. To say introverts are shy may be true in many cases, but it’s not the full story.
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But back to the party. Earlier in the evening, during dinner, a wonderfully charismatic member of our number had encouraged each of us to stand up and say something about the friend who was being celebrated. In front of the group, while everybody else listened. The horror. I may as well have been asked by a waiter if I wanted a sprinkling of broken glass on my pȃté, such was my aversion to the notion.
But you know how it went. This ended up being the nicest part of the whole thing. We all got to tell our friend how completely wonderful she is, each of us drawing on different experiences to illustrate it and thus enriching the party for all in attendance. I should add that I was picked to contribute early, which was a good thing because otherwise my main course would have been consumed with a large side of dread. Still, though, when combined with all the lovely conversation and general fun stimulation, the endeavour meant my energy ebbed away faster. Think of it like the range of an electric car declining more rapidly in frosty weather – the more I enjoy a social situation, the lower my staying power. It can be a fairly rubbish feeling when it strikes, especially in precious settings such as a lovely pal’s party.
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And so, the drawingroom was too far beyond my range: my bottle was empty and on the way to the recycling bank while my friends, new and old, were still warming to the party theme. But exiting in a polite manner, saying goodnight to all, would have required yet more interactions. Luckily, an introvert-aware friend saw the dilemma and suggested we leave for the bathroom together; she would return, and I would not. A winning idea, and one I plan to use again. I left and went to my room alone and could feel my bottle begin to refill almost immediately as I closed the door and walked into the beautiful quiet.
So my message is: if you have an introvert in your life, don’t be too hard on them if they say no to the odd social event, or suddenly go quiet during your conversation, or leave a party quietly, perhaps impolitely. They have a good reason. And if you want them to explain what it is, please ask over text or email, never a phone call.
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