Sorry I'm Late, I Didn't Want to Come: One Introvert's Year of Saying Yes

by Jessica Pan

Question: What would happen if a shy introvert lived like a gregarious extrovert for one year? If she knowingly and willingly put herself in perilous social situations that she’d normally avoid at all costs? Would it offer up a world of life-changing experiences? Or would she wind up in the woods, eating weeds and communing only with wolves until she died of malnutrition, alone but kind of happy that she never had to engage in small talk about Bitcoin ever again?

I read an article that surprised me: apparently, when people are forced to talk to strangers, it makes them happier.

I VERY highly doubt that talking to strangers ever makes people happier. They are lying to the author and us lol

the fear of being intrusive is hugely exaggerated. The more important point is this: what we should actually fear is being boring and dying having never connected with anyone. Then he stares at all of us, meaningfully, and says it again, slowly. “The fear and bleak reality of being boring and dying having never connected with anyone is vastly underestimated.”

When you believe something about yourself for so long but then finally challenge it, everything feels different.

Personally, I would rather volunteer as a tribute in a real-life Hunger Games. Instead of trading business cards, you could trade poisonous berries. Instead of small talk, you get to set killer wasps on your enemies. Both of which are far more exciting than a freelancer’s happy hour soiree.

Odds are, no matter who you are, you’re just as abysmal as I am when it comes to sticking to plans.

I hate these joyful bastards.

Your vigor for life appalls me.

What is hiding in my brain? What embarrassing garbage is lurking, just ready to jump out, finally unconstrained from all the usual filters of normal life?

I’d once read that embarrassment is a healthy emotion, because it signals to others that we care about the social code. When we trip in public or realize we are waving to someone not waving at us, our blushing is an apology for breaking the code. It’s sad to find out that deep inside of you is . . . a desire to commit to societal norms.

But self-confidence doesn’t find us: we have to push ourselves to do something hard and live through it, and then confidence will eventually follow. I’d faked confidence and, by doing so, created it. It really did feel like a feat of wizardry.

Paul once told me, “The fear of rejection feels worse than the reality.” I respectfully beg to differ.