I Am An Introvert, And I Have Something To Say
All you have to do is ask my mother, and she'll be able to give you harrowing eyewitness tales of how I deafened her from across the room and was heard over ear-blasting music on the other end of the house. Anyone that knows me well is well aware of how loud I can be if the situation calls for it.
But, generally, I speak with a soft voice. I'm asked to repeat myself regularly, and the first time I sat next to the human bullhorn (who shall remain nameless) I flinched and felt like they'd blown out my eardrums (never sit right next to a human bullhorn).
I also don't talk much. I spend most of my time with acquaintances making comments like "I can understand that" or "wow." Or, sometimes, just nodding my head in complete silence. A family member complains about that, actually. Says that I need to say something, to respond. They want me to talk to them, and don't like it that I say very little.
I am introverted - according to some standards. I am not extroverted, unless I'm comfortable both with the situation I'm in, and the people I'm with. And even then, I don't naturally possess the mega-watts of energy necessary to do that for more than about an hour. I typically go hide in a cave somewhere once I hit my limit and growl at anyone that comes too close. (I don't bite, though, promise.)
So people often come to the (erroneous) conclusion that I have a hard time making myself heard.
The misconception here is that because I don't talk to you, I don't talk at all. Or that I am afraid to talk, or incapable of talking, or even that I have nothing to say.
This seems very common where introverts are concerned. They get a label slapped on them, with no question about whether it's true or not. They're told they're shy, and avoided. They sit in the corner, and people look their way, but rarely approach. They're the silent fixtures of any institution, the wallflowers. They see it all, and yet aren't a part. They watch the people who are, at first glance, so much more vibrant and lively than they, and they do it in silence. Because they don't engage, don't speak, people believe they have nothing to say.
We have plenty to say.
I write a blog. I've been writing blog posts for years. Obviously I have things to say. And obviously I'm not afraid to say them, since I'm literally throwing them out into the world to be read. If I was afraid to say them, I wouldn't have a blog, and I wouldn't be writing this. You would never have read this far, or read any of my other blog posts, because I never would have written them, let alone posted them for the world to see. And I am not the only one.
So why, then, do these people think we have nothing to say? Why do they lecture us about our silence? About our volume? Why do they think that we're shy, reserved, frightened, or have nothing to say?
I can't presume to answer for all, or even most, introverts. But I can certainly answer for myself:
1: I don't have a huge need to talk everything out. I do need to talk about things, but not to the extent that some people do. I work out a lot of things in my head, and have no need to talk about them all to anyone who will listen. My drama should, for the most part, stay my drama. Sure, I might be having a crummy day. But I don't need to tell all of Facebook about it. I get migraines. I don't make a status update about it unless I can make people laugh with it. My problems are my problems, and I don't have to make the general public suffer with paragraphs of complaint, hurled like cannon balls. I understand that's how some people handle things, and that's fine. It's just not my way.
2: I prefer to watch and listen when I'm in an unfamiliar situation or place, or with people I don't know very well. If I don't understand the dynamic between people or the situation, my immediate response is to watch until I do.
3: Only one person can talk at a time. If I'm with a talkative person, or one that interrupts a lot, my response is to be silent and wait for them to finish before speaking. It's unfortunate that that moment never seems to come with some people, since I was raised to believe that interrupting is rude. Trying to talk in that kind of situation is like getting flattened by a semi truck driven by an ignorantly happy person, chattering away at me from the window while I wave a white flag of surrender. If you never give me space to speak, I won't do it. So if you're talking, and don't leave me enough space to get a word in edgewise, I won't make an effort. If I'm interrupted while I'm talking, I don't keep talking. If I continue talking at the same time as someone else, nothing will come of the conversation but confusion. Since they don't stop, I have to. Otherwise, they'll just talk over me, and since my voice is usually so soft, it's not difficult.
4: If you have no interest in what I'm saying, I just won't say it. It's a waste of my time and energy. You have no interest in listening, so I have no interest in talking. The same goes for giving advice. If you don't listen and never take it, then I'll stop giving it. There's no point. I've wasted my time giving advice and talking to people who really don't care what I'm saying. It's very frustrating, and I'd prefer not to repeat the process.
5: When people interrupt me, something that was intelligent can be turned into something that makes me look like an idiot. This has happened. I wasn't allowed to finish my thought, and suddenly something that otherwise would have made perfect sense was made the butt of a joke. I have a good sense of self-deprecating humor. I do, however, get ticked off when I'm made a laughingstock because someone was too rude to let me finish. This is a much smaller consideration, but if I'm in company where it's happened before, I'm less likely to speak again.
6: Talking involves being around people. To say the things I want to say verbally, I have to endure situations that would normally send me scurrying for cover (see cave comment for reference). As you could probably tell, I post about once every one and a half to two weeks. I could survive, quite happily, on that amount of social interaction with the world at large. I would rather spend my time learning Japanese, how to play the guitar (and cello, and violin...) writing my books, drawing my pictures, talking to my close friends and family, and practicing my martial arts than dealing with the general public, simply because the general public exhausts me.
There are lots of introverts in the world. And most have gone through the usual "oh, he/she is shy" spiel many, many times. And they've probably all wondered just what was wrong with them. Why that part of themselves needed to be changed, or was made out to be something negative. We get run over because we're quiet, and that only confirms it. There must be something wrong, right? There has to be something wrong with us, because no one is listening.
If we don't speak up, we're not heard. And we don't speak up because it goes against the grain. We're quiet people. We think more than we speak. And when we do speak, a lot of us speak softly. Because we get trampled by our more talkative friends, we believe that there's something wrong with us. Everyone around us is loud, and everyone around us gets a certain amount of attention. Because we don't get that attention, we believe it's a problem with us. We believe no one wants to listen, because no one has taken the time and effort to do it.
And, in some cases, we believe we are worth less. Because no one wants to listen, and we're so quiet, we have fewer friends. Why do you suppose quiet people have a reputation for low self-esteem? Many of us blame ourselves for that. We think it's because people don't like us. And we think people don't like us because there's something wrong with us.
But...maybe it's not the fact that we're quiet that's the issue, but the fact that most of the world is so busy talking that they can't hear us. Maybe it's not that we need to speak up, but that the rest of the world needs to quiet down. That we all need to slow down, and learn to appreciate the silence. To hold back the words that aren't necessary, so that the ones spoken truly mean something. So that chatter changes into conversation, and noise becomes communication. Communication is a two-way street. It involves both speaking and listening. If you're listening now, then here you go:
Introversion is not a disease to be cured.
It has some unsavory aspects, to be sure. But then, so does extroversion. Introverts are not less than an extrovert. Just because a person is quiet doesn't make them shy. Just because they're quiet doesn't mean they have nothing to say. Just because they're quiet doesn't give you the right to interrupt them, treat them like what they have to say is unimportant, or believe that they have nothing to say at all.
Because introverts are quiet, we get overwhelmed by those who are louder. We get little consideration from them, and they rarely ask us what we think or pause to let us speak because we "never say anything." I've been talked over and drowned out because I choose to talk softly. I've been interrupted, constantly, to such a degree that sometimes I decide not to speak at all.
But I assure you, it's not because I have nothing to say.
But, generally, I speak with a soft voice. I'm asked to repeat myself regularly, and the first time I sat next to the human bullhorn (who shall remain nameless) I flinched and felt like they'd blown out my eardrums (never sit right next to a human bullhorn).
I also don't talk much. I spend most of my time with acquaintances making comments like "I can understand that" or "wow." Or, sometimes, just nodding my head in complete silence. A family member complains about that, actually. Says that I need to say something, to respond. They want me to talk to them, and don't like it that I say very little.
I am introverted - according to some standards. I am not extroverted, unless I'm comfortable both with the situation I'm in, and the people I'm with. And even then, I don't naturally possess the mega-watts of energy necessary to do that for more than about an hour. I typically go hide in a cave somewhere once I hit my limit and growl at anyone that comes too close. (I don't bite, though, promise.)
So people often come to the (erroneous) conclusion that I have a hard time making myself heard.
The misconception here is that because I don't talk to you, I don't talk at all. Or that I am afraid to talk, or incapable of talking, or even that I have nothing to say.
This seems very common where introverts are concerned. They get a label slapped on them, with no question about whether it's true or not. They're told they're shy, and avoided. They sit in the corner, and people look their way, but rarely approach. They're the silent fixtures of any institution, the wallflowers. They see it all, and yet aren't a part. They watch the people who are, at first glance, so much more vibrant and lively than they, and they do it in silence. Because they don't engage, don't speak, people believe they have nothing to say.
We have plenty to say.
I write a blog. I've been writing blog posts for years. Obviously I have things to say. And obviously I'm not afraid to say them, since I'm literally throwing them out into the world to be read. If I was afraid to say them, I wouldn't have a blog, and I wouldn't be writing this. You would never have read this far, or read any of my other blog posts, because I never would have written them, let alone posted them for the world to see. And I am not the only one.
So why, then, do these people think we have nothing to say? Why do they lecture us about our silence? About our volume? Why do they think that we're shy, reserved, frightened, or have nothing to say?
I can't presume to answer for all, or even most, introverts. But I can certainly answer for myself:
1: I don't have a huge need to talk everything out. I do need to talk about things, but not to the extent that some people do. I work out a lot of things in my head, and have no need to talk about them all to anyone who will listen. My drama should, for the most part, stay my drama. Sure, I might be having a crummy day. But I don't need to tell all of Facebook about it. I get migraines. I don't make a status update about it unless I can make people laugh with it. My problems are my problems, and I don't have to make the general public suffer with paragraphs of complaint, hurled like cannon balls. I understand that's how some people handle things, and that's fine. It's just not my way.
2: I prefer to watch and listen when I'm in an unfamiliar situation or place, or with people I don't know very well. If I don't understand the dynamic between people or the situation, my immediate response is to watch until I do.
3: Only one person can talk at a time. If I'm with a talkative person, or one that interrupts a lot, my response is to be silent and wait for them to finish before speaking. It's unfortunate that that moment never seems to come with some people, since I was raised to believe that interrupting is rude. Trying to talk in that kind of situation is like getting flattened by a semi truck driven by an ignorantly happy person, chattering away at me from the window while I wave a white flag of surrender. If you never give me space to speak, I won't do it. So if you're talking, and don't leave me enough space to get a word in edgewise, I won't make an effort. If I'm interrupted while I'm talking, I don't keep talking. If I continue talking at the same time as someone else, nothing will come of the conversation but confusion. Since they don't stop, I have to. Otherwise, they'll just talk over me, and since my voice is usually so soft, it's not difficult.
4: If you have no interest in what I'm saying, I just won't say it. It's a waste of my time and energy. You have no interest in listening, so I have no interest in talking. The same goes for giving advice. If you don't listen and never take it, then I'll stop giving it. There's no point. I've wasted my time giving advice and talking to people who really don't care what I'm saying. It's very frustrating, and I'd prefer not to repeat the process.
5: When people interrupt me, something that was intelligent can be turned into something that makes me look like an idiot. This has happened. I wasn't allowed to finish my thought, and suddenly something that otherwise would have made perfect sense was made the butt of a joke. I have a good sense of self-deprecating humor. I do, however, get ticked off when I'm made a laughingstock because someone was too rude to let me finish. This is a much smaller consideration, but if I'm in company where it's happened before, I'm less likely to speak again.
6: Talking involves being around people. To say the things I want to say verbally, I have to endure situations that would normally send me scurrying for cover (see cave comment for reference). As you could probably tell, I post about once every one and a half to two weeks. I could survive, quite happily, on that amount of social interaction with the world at large. I would rather spend my time learning Japanese, how to play the guitar (and cello, and violin...) writing my books, drawing my pictures, talking to my close friends and family, and practicing my martial arts than dealing with the general public, simply because the general public exhausts me.
There are lots of introverts in the world. And most have gone through the usual "oh, he/she is shy" spiel many, many times. And they've probably all wondered just what was wrong with them. Why that part of themselves needed to be changed, or was made out to be something negative. We get run over because we're quiet, and that only confirms it. There must be something wrong, right? There has to be something wrong with us, because no one is listening.
If we don't speak up, we're not heard. And we don't speak up because it goes against the grain. We're quiet people. We think more than we speak. And when we do speak, a lot of us speak softly. Because we get trampled by our more talkative friends, we believe that there's something wrong with us. Everyone around us is loud, and everyone around us gets a certain amount of attention. Because we don't get that attention, we believe it's a problem with us. We believe no one wants to listen, because no one has taken the time and effort to do it.
And, in some cases, we believe we are worth less. Because no one wants to listen, and we're so quiet, we have fewer friends. Why do you suppose quiet people have a reputation for low self-esteem? Many of us blame ourselves for that. We think it's because people don't like us. And we think people don't like us because there's something wrong with us.
But...maybe it's not the fact that we're quiet that's the issue, but the fact that most of the world is so busy talking that they can't hear us. Maybe it's not that we need to speak up, but that the rest of the world needs to quiet down. That we all need to slow down, and learn to appreciate the silence. To hold back the words that aren't necessary, so that the ones spoken truly mean something. So that chatter changes into conversation, and noise becomes communication. Communication is a two-way street. It involves both speaking and listening. If you're listening now, then here you go:
Introversion is not a disease to be cured.
It has some unsavory aspects, to be sure. But then, so does extroversion. Introverts are not less than an extrovert. Just because a person is quiet doesn't make them shy. Just because they're quiet doesn't mean they have nothing to say. Just because they're quiet doesn't give you the right to interrupt them, treat them like what they have to say is unimportant, or believe that they have nothing to say at all.
Because introverts are quiet, we get overwhelmed by those who are louder. We get little consideration from them, and they rarely ask us what we think or pause to let us speak because we "never say anything." I've been talked over and drowned out because I choose to talk softly. I've been interrupted, constantly, to such a degree that sometimes I decide not to speak at all.
But I assure you, it's not because I have nothing to say.
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