#introversion

#introversion

The book I wrote isn't even about introversion. But the process dispelled any doubt about where I fall on the introvert/extrovert scale. My project was to collect childless and childfree wisdom from academics, experts, and lay people. I talked with hundreds of people about the topic and had a ball. Extrovert, right? Not so fast. Sure, I talked with a lot of people when I was interviewing, but most meetings were one-on-one or in groups of no more than eight participants.

This summer has been a season jam-packed with a rapid succession of family reunions, road trips to visit far-flung loved ones, and hosting what a friend impishly refers to as "house pests." As a non-parent introvert, I'm saturated. The extended immersion in family gatherings involves everyone else's children. Doesn't matter if the kids are absent or in attendance. They're still omnipresent, mentioned frequently as a main topic of conversation.

I'm an introvert. Actually, I'm one of those extroverted introverts. Once I force myself to get out there and talk with people, I really enjoy it. But the thought of it beforehand can be overwhelming. I also consider myself a creative person. I do a lot of wondering and mulling and some occasional stewing and brewing and dwelling. It's solitary and sometimes lonely up there inside my head.

I've embarked on a five-year mission to become more outgoing, figuring out which situations I could be comfortable in, and setting myself exercises in social etiquette.

Most of my lifelong friendships have been with those who share a common characteristic, be it intellectual interests or values, demonstrating the importance of connection in friendship.