My shyness and introversion incline me to talk too little. My attempts to compensate for my shyness and introversion to put others at ease incline me to talk too much.
If I were just an acquaintance that you don't care about any more than anyone else (because if you're reading this you probably care more about what I have to say than the average person) would you rather I err on the side of talking too little or talking too much? (No, I am not capable of just talking appropriately or only about interesting topics.)
Showing posts with label introversion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label introversion. Show all posts
Friday, February 22, 2008
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Things They Should Invent: study of introverts living in nursing homes
When I hear about what life is like in nursing homes, I dread it. Even if the care is exemplary, it would be hell for me because I am an introvert. Rather than having their own shower, nursing home patients are bathed (because they can't do it themselves). Health care workers come check up on them in the middle of the night. Their lives are necessarily regimented because the institution is, well, institutional - they have to wake up and go to bed and eat and be bathed at a specific time rather than whenever they want.
For me, that's no way to live. I get great joy - yes, joy is le mot juste - from sleeping in as long as my body needs to, having a ridiculously long shower and doing some of my best thinking in the pseudo sensory-deprivation that ensues, then eating whatever I want whenever I want at my own pace. I call this process rebooting my brain, and it's an essential part of staying sane and personable enough that people don't defenestrate me. Another thing that's important is being able to completely let my guard down. I cannot completely let my guard down when another person (apart from mi cielito) is in the room, or may enter the room. I could never let my guard down at my parents' unless I was home alone, and my personality suffered for it. If I lived in a nursing home where there were no locks on the doors (which is normal, according to a PSW friend of mine) I could never let my guard down, at all, ever, for the rest of my life. That's not a life worth living, that's just being kept alive.
Someone should do a study on how nursing home conditions affect introvert patients, whether they're significantly worse off than extrovert patients, and maybe come up with new care models to help people preserve their psychological privacy. I tried googling, but the results were tainted by non-scientific definitions of "introvert" - people who think the word means shy or quiet or nervous or doesn't want to go to the potluck, rather than the technical definition of being energized by being alone.
For me, that's no way to live. I get great joy - yes, joy is le mot juste - from sleeping in as long as my body needs to, having a ridiculously long shower and doing some of my best thinking in the pseudo sensory-deprivation that ensues, then eating whatever I want whenever I want at my own pace. I call this process rebooting my brain, and it's an essential part of staying sane and personable enough that people don't defenestrate me. Another thing that's important is being able to completely let my guard down. I cannot completely let my guard down when another person (apart from mi cielito) is in the room, or may enter the room. I could never let my guard down at my parents' unless I was home alone, and my personality suffered for it. If I lived in a nursing home where there were no locks on the doors (which is normal, according to a PSW friend of mine) I could never let my guard down, at all, ever, for the rest of my life. That's not a life worth living, that's just being kept alive.
Someone should do a study on how nursing home conditions affect introvert patients, whether they're significantly worse off than extrovert patients, and maybe come up with new care models to help people preserve their psychological privacy. I tried googling, but the results were tainted by non-scientific definitions of "introvert" - people who think the word means shy or quiet or nervous or doesn't want to go to the potluck, rather than the technical definition of being energized by being alone.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Balance
I never realized how delicate a balance introversion is. Lately I've been more reclusive than usual, making no effort to initiate social contact with even my closest friends, and sometimes even avoiding social contact. At work, I've been thinking lustful thoughts about going home and just being inside my head for a while. I've been avoiding buying my lunch at places with chattier workers. And, as you've probably noticed, I haven't felt the need to blog nearly as much.
I just realized why all this is: a small (and, thankfully, temporary) change in the way things are done at work has me spending more time talking to other people, but under circumstances that are in no way rewarding. I'm getting more external stimulation than I'm used to, and less time with my own thoughts, but no intellectual or personal satisfaction. Now I have no objection to talking to other people, our conversations are perfectly pleasant, but it is draining me where I wasn't being drained before.
So yeah, I'm going to be quieter for the next few weeks probably. But I'm glad I've noticed this, because it's going to inform career decisions that I'll be making over the next 5-10 years.
I just realized why all this is: a small (and, thankfully, temporary) change in the way things are done at work has me spending more time talking to other people, but under circumstances that are in no way rewarding. I'm getting more external stimulation than I'm used to, and less time with my own thoughts, but no intellectual or personal satisfaction. Now I have no objection to talking to other people, our conversations are perfectly pleasant, but it is draining me where I wasn't being drained before.
So yeah, I'm going to be quieter for the next few weeks probably. But I'm glad I've noticed this, because it's going to inform career decisions that I'll be making over the next 5-10 years.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Why introverts find social interaction draining
When I was googling information on introversion recently, I found a number of comments from extroverts who simply could not fathom how introverts can find social interaction draining. I've been mulling this over, and I think I can explain. However, it requires a triple analogy. Please note that this is for casual acquaintances and strangers only - the dynamic is somewhat different for intimates, as I'll explain after I've presented the analogies.
Picture how you'd feel in each of these situations:
1. You're not at all hungry, but you're in a situation where you're being offered food and it would be rude to refuse.
2. You're a performer in a musical theatre extravaganza, but you've only seen your own lines, score, and choreography, and haven't rehearsed at all.
3. You're engaging in a sex act that will give your partner an orgasm, but cannot possibly give you an orgasm.
Imagine experiencing all these feeling simultaneously, and you've got how an introvert feels when interacting socially with casual acquaintances and strangers.
I will elaborate:
1. Being offered food when you're not hungry
Maybe you're just standard "not hungry", maybe you've just finished a big meal and you're trying to figure out how to discreetly loosen your pants. At any rate, if you were left to your own devices it certainly wouldn't occur to you to seek out food, and if there were a plate of food in front of you, you'd have no particular need to take a nibble. However, you're in a delicate social situation where it would be rude to refuse, so you take some food. Maybe it's really good, maybe it's mediocre, maybe it's disgusting. Maybe you have a bite and you feel okay you didn't particularly need it, maybe it's just too much and the thought of taking more nauseates you, maybe it's surprisingly good and you wouldn't mind having more when you're hungry, but you're really kind of full now. Eating the food may be more enjoyable than you thought, or nauseatingly difficult, or just meh, but the fact is that you didn't need it, and if you hadn't been offered any food you wouldn't be missing it.
The food is social interaction. Introverts very rarely need social interaction. Personally, I don't start wishing for social interaction until I've gone about five days without any human contact, and then an hour on ICQ with a close friend will take the edge off so I can function. When I do have social interaction it may be good, bad, or neutral, and I may have the energy to handle it just fine or I may be absolutely exhausted and desperately looking for an out. If it's exceptionally good, I might come out feeling better, but if it's bad or neutral I'll come out feeling worse. Whatever the result, I didn't go into the situation needing or wanting social interaction, and if there had been no social interaction I wouldn't miss it.
2. You're on stage and you've only seen your part of the script
You've only seen your own lines, and don't know what your cues are going to be. You have the sheet music for your own songs, but you don't know if it's a solo or if you're in the chorus. You have your own choreography and stage directions, but you don't know who or what else is going to be on the stage. Oh, and the pages of all this material are not numbered, so you're not sure if you have it in the right order. You've never rehearsed - you don't even know what the plot is or who your character is - and then you're thrust on stage and you have to improvise.
Casual social interaction does not come naturally to introverts. Because I don't need it, I can't just apply "Do unto others," as my golden rule instincts are telling me that social interaction would be unwelcome. So, to produce the requisite small-talk, it's constant improvisation, constant self-monitoring, constant thinking on my feet. I have a small corpus to work with, but I have to stay on my toes and consciously decide how the material I have fits into my current situation. For example, here's my background train of thought as I ride the elevator with a colleague:
And it's like this all the time, whenever I'm doing any social interaction. I can't just talk mindlessly, (I've heard that extroverts can - is that true?) I have to work at it.
3. You're doing a sex act that cannot possibly give you an orgasm
Maybe you enjoy giving your partner pleasure but you don't particularly care for the act itself, maybe you're doing it out of duty, maybe it's kind of fun although certainly not orgasmic. At any rate, your partner is going to have an orgasm, but you're not. It simply does not stimulate the areas that need to be stimulated to give you an orgasm. And, because of the complexity of the act, there is no way for you to apply a little bit of friction to help yourself along without neglecting your partner.
Social interaction gives extroverts what Marti Olsen Laney calls "Hap Hits" - brain chemical reaction thingies that make you feel good. (There's a far more grownup explanation in her book, but I never took psych or biology, so my understanding of the science falls just short of being able to explain it to others. It is somehow related to dopamine.) Introverts don't get this. Maybe I'm doing my social interaction out of duty, maybe I'm glad it's entertaining the other people, maybe it's even fun, but it is not going to give me Hap Hits. I get my Hap Hits from being alone, without too much stimulation, and just being able to think. I get into a sort of calm and happy place, and then I can mull things over and think of new ideas and spontaneously solve translation problems that are sitting on my desk at work. (If you've been reading a while, you've probably noticed my Things They Should Invent - they come from this happy introvert place. So did this intricate analogy.) However, I can't do this while engaging in social interaction, and I can rarely do it while out in public (unless I'm in a situation where I'm sitting quietly and am not required to interact with or be observed by others). Just talking to others or determining whether I need to talk to others or walking down a busy street without getting in anyone's way stimulates too much of my brain, and I can't get to my happy place because there's too much else going on. While social interaction gives extroverts their Hap Hits, it actually prevents me from getting mine. Which is fine, (after all, you can't be having an orgasm every minute of the day) but it's never actually going to be stimulating.
Added bonus analogy: Let's go back to the sex act that gives your partner an orgasm but cannot give you one:
This is what it's like when extroverts try to convince introverts that they need to work at becoming more extroverted.
So, in summary: Under most circumstances, introverts have no particular need for social interaction, it's hard work that requires constant effort and doesn't allow us to let our guard down for a minute, and it doesn't give us Hap Hits and prevents us from doing things that do give us Hap Hits. Even if it is a pleasant social interaction, the net effect is still draining.
So how's it different for close friends?
1. I'm still not hungry, but my close friends are the food that I have cravings for. The closer the friend, the stronger the craving. If I'm on my period and I've had a rough day, I'm probably craving Lays Salt & Vinegar Chips, and I'll eat any available unless I'm painfully full. You're probably sitting there saying "But I'm good food too!" You may well be. Maybe you're the best sushi in the world. But I'm not craving sushi, I'm craving Salt & Vinegar. Maybe if I eat some sushi I'll start developing cravings for it, but most likely I won't since I have all the craveable foods I need, as I have all the friends I need. So as it stands, I'm full, so I don't want to eat your sushi - not even the best sushi in the world - because then I won't have any room for Salt & Vinegar (i.e. I'll be too tired and cranky to be civil company for mi cielito.)
2. I still don't know the plot of the play, but my close friends are very good at doing improv with me. We've performed together before and gotten quite used to each others styles. They know how to cue me without breaking character. If I mess up, they use their l33t impr0v sk1llz to smoothly incorporate my gaffes into the performance. You're probably sitting there saying "But I know how to improv too!" and I'm sure you do - I always depend on everyone else's improv skills to get me through the performance - but my friends and I have worked together longer and it's much easier for me to work with them.
3. I'm still not going to have an orgasm doing this, but mi cielito knows how to make me feel good. He knows certain ways to touch me that aren't orgasmic, but are still rather happy and tingly. He knows my secret fantasy scenarios. He knows that if we do this one thing before and this other thing after, I'll enjoy the nonorgasmic sex act a lot more. Similarly, my close friends know how to keep me from getting overwhelmed, they're used to my sense of humour and the way I think so I can just blurt out anything that comes to mind without having to worry about whether it's appropriate small talk, and I can back off or zone out as needed without having to worry that they'll get offended or start thinking something's wrong with me. You're probably sitting there saying "But I want to help make the social experience good for you too!" I'm sure you do, but you don't know how. Your intentions may well be good, you may well have had experience with other introverts, but you aren't used to me. Just as there's going to be a bit of fumbling around the first few times you have sex with a new lover, even the most well-intentioned interlocutor is not going to make the experience as pleasant for me as a good friend.
Most interaction with close friends is still draining, but they know how to make it pleasant enough that it's worth being drained. On very rare occasions, it can be not draining - that's why when I say "Being with mi cielito is just like being alone," it is the highest compliment - it means that he can overcome the most basic aspects of my neurology and make what is normally a draining experience into a stimulating experience.
Picture how you'd feel in each of these situations:
1. You're not at all hungry, but you're in a situation where you're being offered food and it would be rude to refuse.
2. You're a performer in a musical theatre extravaganza, but you've only seen your own lines, score, and choreography, and haven't rehearsed at all.
3. You're engaging in a sex act that will give your partner an orgasm, but cannot possibly give you an orgasm.
Imagine experiencing all these feeling simultaneously, and you've got how an introvert feels when interacting socially with casual acquaintances and strangers.
I will elaborate:
1. Being offered food when you're not hungry
Maybe you're just standard "not hungry", maybe you've just finished a big meal and you're trying to figure out how to discreetly loosen your pants. At any rate, if you were left to your own devices it certainly wouldn't occur to you to seek out food, and if there were a plate of food in front of you, you'd have no particular need to take a nibble. However, you're in a delicate social situation where it would be rude to refuse, so you take some food. Maybe it's really good, maybe it's mediocre, maybe it's disgusting. Maybe you have a bite and you feel okay you didn't particularly need it, maybe it's just too much and the thought of taking more nauseates you, maybe it's surprisingly good and you wouldn't mind having more when you're hungry, but you're really kind of full now. Eating the food may be more enjoyable than you thought, or nauseatingly difficult, or just meh, but the fact is that you didn't need it, and if you hadn't been offered any food you wouldn't be missing it.
The food is social interaction. Introverts very rarely need social interaction. Personally, I don't start wishing for social interaction until I've gone about five days without any human contact, and then an hour on ICQ with a close friend will take the edge off so I can function. When I do have social interaction it may be good, bad, or neutral, and I may have the energy to handle it just fine or I may be absolutely exhausted and desperately looking for an out. If it's exceptionally good, I might come out feeling better, but if it's bad or neutral I'll come out feeling worse. Whatever the result, I didn't go into the situation needing or wanting social interaction, and if there had been no social interaction I wouldn't miss it.
2. You're on stage and you've only seen your part of the script
You've only seen your own lines, and don't know what your cues are going to be. You have the sheet music for your own songs, but you don't know if it's a solo or if you're in the chorus. You have your own choreography and stage directions, but you don't know who or what else is going to be on the stage. Oh, and the pages of all this material are not numbered, so you're not sure if you have it in the right order. You've never rehearsed - you don't even know what the plot is or who your character is - and then you're thrust on stage and you have to improvise.
Casual social interaction does not come naturally to introverts. Because I don't need it, I can't just apply "Do unto others," as my golden rule instincts are telling me that social interaction would be unwelcome. So, to produce the requisite small-talk, it's constant improvisation, constant self-monitoring, constant thinking on my feet. I have a small corpus to work with, but I have to stay on my toes and consciously decide how the material I have fits into my current situation. For example, here's my background train of thought as I ride the elevator with a colleague:
"The back of my bra is riding up - will anyone see if I pull it back down? What's she saying? Oh, she's mentioned that she moved. An appropriate follow-up question would be to ask her where she moved to. Oops, now I'm in the very front of the elevator and the people behind me will need to get off first. How can I tell who wants to get off first? Which way should I step? She moved to Brampton? Why would anyone move there? What do I say in response to that? Oops, sorry lady, didn't mean to stand right in front of you, I wasn't sure which way I was supposed to step. Brampton, no, I've never actually been to Brampton. What can I say now? What's Brampton like? Okay, if I stand over here in the corner and let her off the elevator first, then I can pull the back of my bra down before I leave the elevator."
And it's like this all the time, whenever I'm doing any social interaction. I can't just talk mindlessly, (I've heard that extroverts can - is that true?) I have to work at it.
3. You're doing a sex act that cannot possibly give you an orgasm
Maybe you enjoy giving your partner pleasure but you don't particularly care for the act itself, maybe you're doing it out of duty, maybe it's kind of fun although certainly not orgasmic. At any rate, your partner is going to have an orgasm, but you're not. It simply does not stimulate the areas that need to be stimulated to give you an orgasm. And, because of the complexity of the act, there is no way for you to apply a little bit of friction to help yourself along without neglecting your partner.
Social interaction gives extroverts what Marti Olsen Laney calls "Hap Hits" - brain chemical reaction thingies that make you feel good. (There's a far more grownup explanation in her book, but I never took psych or biology, so my understanding of the science falls just short of being able to explain it to others. It is somehow related to dopamine.) Introverts don't get this. Maybe I'm doing my social interaction out of duty, maybe I'm glad it's entertaining the other people, maybe it's even fun, but it is not going to give me Hap Hits. I get my Hap Hits from being alone, without too much stimulation, and just being able to think. I get into a sort of calm and happy place, and then I can mull things over and think of new ideas and spontaneously solve translation problems that are sitting on my desk at work. (If you've been reading a while, you've probably noticed my Things They Should Invent - they come from this happy introvert place. So did this intricate analogy.) However, I can't do this while engaging in social interaction, and I can rarely do it while out in public (unless I'm in a situation where I'm sitting quietly and am not required to interact with or be observed by others). Just talking to others or determining whether I need to talk to others or walking down a busy street without getting in anyone's way stimulates too much of my brain, and I can't get to my happy place because there's too much else going on. While social interaction gives extroverts their Hap Hits, it actually prevents me from getting mine. Which is fine, (after all, you can't be having an orgasm every minute of the day) but it's never actually going to be stimulating.
Added bonus analogy: Let's go back to the sex act that gives your partner an orgasm but cannot give you one:
Partner: Hey, you know what? You should have an orgasm while we're going this! It's a lot more fun that way!
You: I can't, this doesn't stimulate the right parts of my body. If we do something else I can have an orgasm, but not while we're going this.
Partner: Come on, you just need to make an effort! Anyone can have an orgasm while doing this if they only put their mind to it!
You: No, actually it's physically impossible for me to have an orgasm while we're doing this. See the how my body is positioned? See how your body is positioned? See how all the parts of both our bodies that could possibly stimulate me, as well as the bedposts and the sex toys and the various other bedroom accoutrements are all fully occupied with stimulating you, and cannot possibly be reassigned to stimulate me in a way that would lead to orgasm without ceasing to stimulate you and completely changing the nature of this surprisingly intricate sex act.
Partner: No, if I can have an orgasm while engaging in this specific sex act, anyone can, including you! It's all your fault that you're not - if you were less stubborn and more open-mined, you'd be having an orgasm to! In fact, how dare you not have an orgasm for the sole purpose of spiting me!
This is what it's like when extroverts try to convince introverts that they need to work at becoming more extroverted.
So, in summary: Under most circumstances, introverts have no particular need for social interaction, it's hard work that requires constant effort and doesn't allow us to let our guard down for a minute, and it doesn't give us Hap Hits and prevents us from doing things that do give us Hap Hits. Even if it is a pleasant social interaction, the net effect is still draining.
So how's it different for close friends?
1. I'm still not hungry, but my close friends are the food that I have cravings for. The closer the friend, the stronger the craving. If I'm on my period and I've had a rough day, I'm probably craving Lays Salt & Vinegar Chips, and I'll eat any available unless I'm painfully full. You're probably sitting there saying "But I'm good food too!" You may well be. Maybe you're the best sushi in the world. But I'm not craving sushi, I'm craving Salt & Vinegar. Maybe if I eat some sushi I'll start developing cravings for it, but most likely I won't since I have all the craveable foods I need, as I have all the friends I need. So as it stands, I'm full, so I don't want to eat your sushi - not even the best sushi in the world - because then I won't have any room for Salt & Vinegar (i.e. I'll be too tired and cranky to be civil company for mi cielito.)
2. I still don't know the plot of the play, but my close friends are very good at doing improv with me. We've performed together before and gotten quite used to each others styles. They know how to cue me without breaking character. If I mess up, they use their l33t impr0v sk1llz to smoothly incorporate my gaffes into the performance. You're probably sitting there saying "But I know how to improv too!" and I'm sure you do - I always depend on everyone else's improv skills to get me through the performance - but my friends and I have worked together longer and it's much easier for me to work with them.
3. I'm still not going to have an orgasm doing this, but mi cielito knows how to make me feel good. He knows certain ways to touch me that aren't orgasmic, but are still rather happy and tingly. He knows my secret fantasy scenarios. He knows that if we do this one thing before and this other thing after, I'll enjoy the nonorgasmic sex act a lot more. Similarly, my close friends know how to keep me from getting overwhelmed, they're used to my sense of humour and the way I think so I can just blurt out anything that comes to mind without having to worry about whether it's appropriate small talk, and I can back off or zone out as needed without having to worry that they'll get offended or start thinking something's wrong with me. You're probably sitting there saying "But I want to help make the social experience good for you too!" I'm sure you do, but you don't know how. Your intentions may well be good, you may well have had experience with other introverts, but you aren't used to me. Just as there's going to be a bit of fumbling around the first few times you have sex with a new lover, even the most well-intentioned interlocutor is not going to make the experience as pleasant for me as a good friend.
Most interaction with close friends is still draining, but they know how to make it pleasant enough that it's worth being drained. On very rare occasions, it can be not draining - that's why when I say "Being with mi cielito is just like being alone," it is the highest compliment - it means that he can overcome the most basic aspects of my neurology and make what is normally a draining experience into a stimulating experience.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)