Pearls of 20-something wisdom: The book that changed my life

I've read 500+ books in my twenties. Many of them had a powerful effect on me, but one stands out as being the most formative: Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop Talking by Susan Cain (which came out five years ago today).

In every personality quiz I've taken, my introvert rating has been at least 95 percent. I've always known I was more of an introvert than an extrovert, but it wasn't until I read this book that I really understood what that meant.

We live in a society that favors extrovert traits. We're told to be assertive if we want to be promoted, to be friendly if we want to be liked, to be charismatic if we want to be remembered.

For years, I tried to develop these traits. I made goals to smile at least once every hour in hopes that it would make it easier to be nice to people (or at least give them an incentive to approach me so I wouldn't have to reach out to them). I worried endlessly about the shy image I was portraying to all but those who knew me best. I worked myself to exhaustion just trying to fake my way through a party. Oftentimes the effort of getting myself out the door would drain what little storage I had for social energy.

Try as I might, I never morphed into what American society deemed an ideal personality type. I made significant improvements in overcoming my shyness, but I was essentially still me. The one who wasn't quite right in the head because she just wanted to hang out at home every Friday night.

Then I read this book.

Gradually, I stopped feeling like I needed to "fix" my introvert flaws. I quit wasting precious energy on becoming something I'm not. I finally learned how to fully embrace the person I am.

Once I understood why I am the way I am, I started paying attention to the things that energized and drained me. I figured out what my limits were, which helped me know when I needed to push myself and when I needed a quiet night at home more. I allowed myself to gravitate toward activities I felt more comfortable in (sports and games rather than whatever the "cool kids" were doing) to make the most of my social time.

Finding that unique balance I needed did more to strengthen me as a person than almost anything else has. I found myself in Quiet, and I've been much happier in my own skin ever since.

The aftermath of a bold move

This year, I've focused a lot on enlivening my social habits, which often requires all the boldness I can muster. For some people, making friends is so natural they don't think twice about it, but I have always struggled in this area. Sometimes I feel like every cell in my body is fighting against my having any sort of social life at all. Pushing back against my introverted tendencies is almost always exhausting and discouraging.

It's often a battle I don't win, which doesn't exactly inspire me to try harder. (Which is why it's important to recognize when it's time to take a break.)

But every now and then, I score a victory. And the euphoria from that victory is strong enough to last for days. Weeks, even, if I roll with the momentum.

This week, my goal was to go to Cornbellys with my ward. I have loved corn mazes since the first time I went to one about 15 years ago. I was a brand-new Beehive, and didn't really have friends in the ward. But when your dad is in the bishopric, it's hard to get out of going to activities. (It's even harder when your mom is the Young Womens president—but that came later.)

My worst fear came to pass when everyone clumped into groups and darted into the maze, leaving me to either hang out with my dad or go through by myself: equally humiliating options when you're 12 years old. I entered the maze anyway, mostly to satiate my curiosity; I wanted to see for myself what all the fuss was about. In front of me were a few girls in my ward. One of them saw me ambling along, and immediately invited me to be in their group.

And just like that, I was part of a laughing group of girls, just like I hoped I would be. Every year I went back, it was a similar story—I would somehow find myself in the middle of a group of teenagers, having a great time.

So I had a lot of good reasons to go to the corn maze with my YSA ward. But those same fears I had as a teenager were still there: I would have to show up alone and sneak into a group. There would be three solid hours of socializing. No one would understand my sense of humor, and I'd spend the whole time wishing one of my sisters was with me.

It didn't matter that I knew the activity would be fun. It didn't matter that I've been longing to revisit a corn maze for years. It was still a social activity with people I hadn't cliqued with yet—my instincts were screaming at me to stay home and crochet instead.

But this time, the need for something different—even if it was uncomfortable—won out. And the payoff was better than it usually is—I planted a few seeds for new friendships, saw the stars and some wicked awesome pumpkin carvings, and burned my tongue on 7-11 hot chocolate. (Completely worth it, in my opinion.)

It's another good corn maze memory to add to my journal. But the euphoric feeling I had when I went to bed that night—knowing that I took a risk, which paid off—that's what I'll remember most.

This blog challenge may have been what tipped the scales for this particular battle.

The trick to being happily introverted: Know your limits

Since I finished school, I've had two main goals: (1) enjoy not being busy and (2) have fun. (Pretty great goals, right? Lots of potential for growth here.)

And by "have fun" I don't just mean watching reruns or resurrecting old projects or reading through an entire library—I'm talking about the "get out into the world" type fun. Unfortunately, when you're an introvert, this kind of fun is often more work than it is play.

All those high school stomps I went to in an attempt to have a social life? Work. Reluctant appearances at ward activities? Work. To exacerbate the problem, I've also wasted many a Friday night feeling guilty for passing on possibly memorable social experiences to hide in my room.

Sometimes I was hiding out of fear, yes, but sometimes I was hiding because I needed to be alone. Period.

After years of lofty goals, predictable failures, and mini triumphs, I think I've finally figured out what my limits are: 1–2 non-routine social activities a week. If I can meet that quota, I know I can happily skip out on other things and allow myself to recharge, guilt-free.

For example, earlier this week I was debating whether I should go to FHE. I knew I had a bridal shower and a wedding to go to later in the week, so I ceased the I-must-force-myself-to-go-to-this mind game immediately and enjoyed a lovely evening at home instead. Not only did I conserve energy by staying home, but I also conserved energy by not torturing myself with an endless pro/con list regarding the significance of going to this one activity.

I've been a much happier introvert since I figured this out. There's been much less internal turmoil over my own shortcomings and much more effective use of my energy. Sure, I'm still fully capable of working on those shortcomings, but I have a much better feel for when I should push myself and when I should just let myself be.

An introvert who abides by his or her limits as much as possible = a happy introvert.

To the extroverts

Dear extrovert,

First off, I want you to know that I admire, and often envy, your ability to instantly make friends, shine in the spotlight, and make decisions on the spot. You're a pretty great person, actually, and I'm glad to have you in my life.

But I believe your knowledge regarding the inner workings of an introvert's mind is sorely lacking. This is not entirely your fault--you've been raised in an extroverted world that values being heard over being introspective, being friendly over being shy.

It is not my intention to lecture you on a centuries-long prejudice. But perhaps if you give me a few minutes of your time I can help you understand a significant portion of the human race a little better, and then maybe we'll be able to talk about something more interesting than my nonverbal habits.

An introvert is someone who re-energizes by being alone or meditating on various life happenings. Trust me, there's no need to look so concerned when I tell you that I spent my Friday night cuddling with a book instead of a human being. I may accept an invitation to a party every now and then, but if I decline please don't take offense. I often prefer my own company over that of others, but it's nothing personal. And please don't worry about my well-being the day after a party; I may be exhausted, but I'll recover. Eventually.

Introverts are often erroneously pegged as moody or depressed, probably because of the expression created by relaxed facial muscles. This is one of those situations where you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. Facial expressions are unreliable personality meters, regardless of your genetic wiring.

And finally, introverts are silent because they preserve their vocal chords for opportune moments when they have something useful to say. They are not judging you, they do not think they are better than you, and they are not smarter than you (though you have our permission to assume this anyway). I should warn you, though, that stupid questions will be answered with scowls, glares, and excessive eye rolling. "Why don't you talk?" and "Have you ever had a conversation with anyone?" qualify as stupid questions. I, for one, have decided to stop trying to politely answer idiotic questions like these, and wholeheartedly believe that you deserve whatever damage is caused by my death glare.

As a common courtesy, I don't try to make you feel like a freak whenever you project yourself on everyone around you. I would appreciate the same treatment from you whenever I draw inward.

Sincerely,

An introvert

On being an introvert

Most of the time, I like people. I like learning about their backgrounds, trying to figure out what type of person they are based on the things the don't say, and listening to their dramatic monologues. People entertain me, and I think that, for the most part, people are good. So I'm a fan of them.

Sometimes, however, people annoy me, and the only satisfying company I can find is, well, myself.

Thus is the common conundrum of the introvert: liking and understand people, but not wanting to be around them all the time.

Some common characteristics of introverts:

1. Introverts generally have to be dragged to parties and social functions, and then need at least a day to recuperate from them.
2. Small-talk skills are pathetically non-existent, though listening skills are above average.
3. Introverts are deep thinkers and are very good at entertaining themselves.
4. Being singled out feels a bit like having a heart attack
5. Introverts may be in their element when presenting something to a large group of people, but tend to hide in the shadows when interacting in small groups.

Unfortunately, we live in a society where being a talkative, go-getter type person is not only considered normal, but is preferable in most spheres. Introverts are usually coined with terms such as "loner," "taciturn," and "guarded," while extroverts are described as bighearted, warm, and empathic. It is true that the extroverts are usually easier to get along with, but because introverts are very much a mystery to the outgoing types, they are largely misunderstood, at least among those who don't give their brains time to process information before they start spurting out words.

Common misconceptions of introverts:

1. Introverts are either (1) rude, or (2) extremely sweet with no opinions of their own.
2. Introverts hate people.
3. Introverts are arrogant and/or unintelligent.
4. If someone is lost in thought, clearly that means that something is wrong with them.

One of my biggest pet peeves is when people try to tell me what I'm thinking. Rather than letting me speak for myself, they'll make their own conclusion and announce it to the world as if it were undisputed fact. I love the words of Jonathan Rauch, a self-proclaimed introvert, who said:

The worst of it is that extroverts have no idea of the torment they put us through. Sometimes, as we gasp for air amid the fog of their 98-percent-content-free talk, we wonder if extroverts even bother to listen to themselves. Still we endure stoically, because the etiquette books--written no doubt, but extroverts--regard declining to banter as rude and gasps in conversation as awkward. We can only dream that someday, when our condition is more widely understood, when perhaps an Introverts' Rights movement has blossomed and borne fruit, it will not be impolite to say "I'm an introvert. You are a wonderful person and I like you. But now please shush."

Pure gold.

So, a little advice to the extroverts out there: don't be offended if the introvert doesn't talk to you, don't worry about their emotional well-being when they say they want to be alone, and please, don't talk down to them. Introverts are usually peaceable, easy-going creatures. Until you annoy them, that is.