IN MY SHOES: What It’s Like To Be An Introvert
Not until my early 50s did I make a startling discovery: Most of my close friends are introverts. As I brought up the subject with one after another, we spoke in low, confessional voices of feeling numb with fatigue following workdays or social outings we'd otherwise enjoyed, of frequent longings to retreat to a quiet place.
Why was I surprised? Why did it take me decades to figure this out? Because we are introverts, which means we don't reveal ourselves by working through problems out loud or by talking much about how we think or feel. …
Extroverts draw energy from engaging with the outside world and especially from being with other people; introverts need time alone to recharge. …
I was trying to help my younger son,
"Look at yourself, working at home, and then think about Oliver in school with people in his face for seven or eight hours a day," Serena Wieder, the therapist working with my son, said to me. "Once he can organize his own time and activities,
Slowly, various conundrums of my life became clearer: Why, once I'd begun working at home, I dreaded the thought of returning to eight-hour-plus days surrounded by people. Or why, when friends urged me to share a spur-of-the-moment meal by saying, "You need to eat sometime," I often longed to tell them, "No, thank you, I need to eat alone."
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