I felt unusually warm on that chilly, November morning when my Elon 101 adviser happily announced we would discuss the results of our Myers-Briggs personality tests together. Reactions in this college freshmen orientation class were mostly shrugs of indifference. Whatever. Except for me. I wanted to jump up out of my seat and shout, “Noooooo!”
But I wouldn't have done that. It's just not me.
I spent the semester listening to my peers’ tales of messy roommates who stay up too late and teachers who give unfair assignments. I shared stories of my own night-owl roomie despite my initial hesitation. I became talkative. We all shared our new student anxieties, outrage and laughs.
I felt accepted by the group, but now I feared Myers-Briggs, via my adviser, was going to label me as “shy” for another four years. You’re either an “E” for extrovert or the dreaded “I” for introvert. I knew I was no “E” and I blamed this for previous social troubles.
My classmates passed the handouts around the too-large-for-the-tiny-room table. My adviser’s instructions were muffled by the shuffle of papers along the mutter of my inner critic who was scolding me for answering the test questions so candidly the week before. I scanned the handout, which listed each personality trait description. I needed to know what words would be used to describe me.
We would start with the introverts, my adviser continued. I glanced around the table so I could capture my classmates naive expressions. Maybe some of them will be introverted too, I thought. My adviser squinted at the test chart he held in his hand as if he had he had lost his place—I hoped. There was a long pause.
In anticipation, I lowered my head to rub my right temple as if a genie would spring forth to grant me three wishes. I only needed one.
“Huh,” my adviser said in a curious tone.
To everyone’s surprise I was revealed as the lone introvert in a class of 15. My heart sank. Not a single person with whom I could exchange an understanding nod. I was on my own again. I smiled and shrugged while I stirred and secretly hated my adviser for “outing” the inner me.
I was ashamed to be an introvert, but I was wrong to feel this way. After 10 years and one book—
"The Introvert Advantage: How to Thrive in an Extroverted World" by
Marti Olsen Laney, PsyD (also an introvert)—I see it more clearly now.
Typically, only one out of every four people is introverted. There are advantages and disadvantages to both personality types, yet extroverted strengths are more valued because they make up the majority. They set the social standards. This makes introverts feel like they must conform to extroverted expectations, but you can’t change who you are.
And believe me, I’ve tried.
Introverts’ brains have more internal activity. They’re constantly on brain-overload so they look for ways to lessen stimulation because too much drains their energy. Extroverts are always searching for more information, which energizes them—too little activity leaves them tapped and tired. This as a major influence on how both types behave.
In high school, I was an occasional no-show during off-period gatherings in the school library and my friends would ask me about where I had been. I’d make some flimsy excuse because they were suspicious and seemed to think I was avoiding them, but I really wasn’t. I just needed some time alone.
I walked the empty halls in search of a quiet spot to work. The cafeteria was crowded with loud chatter and the occasional airborne French fry. The library was filled with whispers, shushes and giggles that lead to the librarian yelling. So I would slip away to the corner of an empty classroom.
I’d plow right through my homework with no distractions to slow me down. Then I’d just reflect, staring at the dusty chalkboard with the scribbling of lessons only partially erased. The fluorescent lights hummed to a distant voice whose lecture was just rhythmic white noise. Exhale.
During class, whenever a teacher asked me a question on the spot, my mind would race, but would instantly come up blank. I would freeze then feel humiliated and frustrated that I was so slow to respond. I would inevitably give an answer without confidence because I was unsure of my answer because I hadn't had enough time to think it through. Answers always seemed more obvious when the focus was on someone else and the class had moved on. I couldn't understand why it was so difficult. Not only do introverts need an extra moment to think, but being thrust into the spotlight makes us very uncomfortable.
This common introvert trait is often mistaken for bewilderment because extroverts think and vocalize answers so quickly. I thought my inability to think faster made me less intelligent. Introverts actually have better memory, but it takes longer to retrieve because our brains send signals on a long brain pathway. Extroverts use a short brain pathway, so their answers are always locked and loaded while we introverts are still processing.
There's another misconception that all introverts must be
shy. Shyness is a social anxiety developed out of bad social experiences. It's a reflection of distrust or lack of confidence. An introvert can be shy, but it does not require it. Extroverts can be shy too, which is worse since they need more interaction to feel good.
We introverts have fewer friends. We don't make the same effort extroverts do with acquaintances who are potential new friends. Whether the extrovert makes friends or not, they still get the energizer they need. I value focused interaction and find socializing in large groups to be exhausting. So I have to conserve time spent so I don’t burn out. I talk plenty with people I know really well, but struggle with social chitchat.
Most introverts are taught they should aspire to be more like extroverts so they feel self-conscious about their natural inclinations. At a young age I was labeled as “shy” because I internalized my thoughts more than others. Eventually, I did become shy. I had gotten so use to the idea that this wasn’t "the norm" and thought people didn't like me because of it. Friends felt the need to address it all the time. I was often excluded, which was more likely a matter of being overlooked because I didn't demand as much attention.
Stuart Smalley, Al Franken's self-help character from his days on "Saturday Night Live," used to look in the mirror and calmly say, "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough and dog-gone-it, people like me." Maybe that's something I should have done! Though Franken was poking fun, and probably not an introvert, he created a good chant for us when extroverted expectations come pouring down.
People should appreciate introverts for what they have to offer. Just think about what qualities colleges and employers seek out more
— introverts are at a total disadvantage. There are many situations that would benefit from introvert perspective, but it's often lost due to the volume of extroverts who speak over them.
Introverts are good planners. We weigh all the options before reacting. We're more self-aware. What we lack in conversation we make up for in writing. We're better listeners. Who do extroverts think is listening to them all the time? Not other extroverts. Numerous conflicts may be the result of not understanding these differences.
You don’t have to be introverted to look back on your adolescence and cringe at those socially awkward moments, but it helps. I only wish I hadn’t let people’s misunderstanding of me confine me to “shy” for so long. The majority makes the rules, but neither introverts nor extroverts are right or wrong—just different.
My Elon 101 class didn’t treat me differently as I had feared they would. I had already won their hearts. Knowing what made me tick didn’t scare them away because I was comfortable and true to myself. In my mind, I had succeeded in "fooling" everyone by acting like an extrovert, but really, it was all introverted me.
What felt like a lifetime of focus on me and my introverted traits in class was probably only a matter of minutes. Then we moved on. We continued to talk and laugh as we always had. No harm, no foul. I realized it was a fresh start. It was a chance for me to see that I didn't have to be defined as shy so long as I embraced introversion for what it really was and kept doing what I was doing— being my thoughtful and friendly self. I learned, just like Laney, that understanding who I am is the key to confidence. No more hiding.
I didn't make any long-term friendships from that class, but that's OK. It was all about helping each other make a difficult transition to new-found independence.
And to my former adviser: all is forgiven.
