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THE EXTROVERTED INTROVERT



Am I normal? Is this weird? Is there something wrong with me? These are just some of the questions spinning in my head on repeat. Daily. Non-stop. For a good couple of months. Then I got sick and had to stay in bed for two weeks. And that didn't help. I was already so in my head. I started down-spiraling. Fast. I kept digging myself deeper into the hole. And I thought it was all true!

How did I even get here?

I tried to find the correlation between my past and who I used to be or how I used to be, to who I am today. Being stuck in that dark hole, there was no way I could think clearly or make any sense of it.

Once I could get out of bed and the house and take a step back (it was actually several steps, about 12 miles of them), it all started to become just a little bit clearer. But let me rewind…

Ever since I can remember interacting with others in social settings, I somehow became the life of the party, the joker, the attention grabber, the loud, obnoxious guy who dominated the conversation. Some even called me scary. And looking back, I don't blame them. I was overly outgoing and overly sexual in my conversations to get reactions out of people and, by doing so, in some way, control the situation. I was what would an untrained observer easily describe as an extrovert.

I wouldn't say no to an invitation to an event or a party, going out to the bar, or any gathering. I had to be networking because that's what you're supposed to do. But it was also an opportunity for me to be the center of attention and get some validation. (It's all very layered, I am aware) To be seen, to meet many people, have the same exhausting empty conversations about nothing repeatedly. Making things up or embellishing stories to make myself seem more interesting. Telling inappropriate jokes, causing some people to laugh, offending some… Still not feeling good enough anyway. And I couldn't, for the love of me, figure out why I felt so hot every time I talked because, like clockwork in these scenarios, a tiny stream of sweat ran down my spine, soaking my underwear. The fact is, I had social anxiety (and by had, I mean I still do). I hated talking about myself in group settings with people I didn't really know. From the outside, though, you'd be looking at someone who could command the room with such ease, making it look like his second nature. But I'd probably lost a couple gallons of water in sweat doing that each time.

As I got older and more comfortable with myself, I slowly, without any conscious decision-making, stopped frequenting the bars, the pool parties, and the must-attend events everyone would flee to. And as I did that, the level of high anxiety I used to feel stopped frequenting me. I removed myself from the forced social scene, where, let's face it, almost everyone feels uncomfortable due to the lack of authenticity, therefore, even less chance to connect with someone. You know what I am talking about. We can all feel the energy, but we will drink enough to numb whatever weirdness we feel.

By removing myself, I pretty much eliminated any possible invitations to other social gatherings. I mean, there were a few here and there, but I could only say no so many times before people said fuck it. And didn't invite me anymore. Which, in their defense, is fair.

When I was younger, I would have done anything to not be alone, as a part of FOMO, but also just wanted to be part of something, anything, as long as it involved other people and gave me some sense of belonging. Even if it meant doing something incredibly dull or being with people that made me feel like shit about myself. They were just fillers. And I know for many of them, I was the same. But I started realizing the price I was paying for this was far higher than what I was actually getting out of it. Our time here is so precious, and I was wasting it. The mental and emotional exhaustion and the emptiness I would feel after those social things stopped being worth it. Reading a book at home alone often brought me more joy and fulfillment than a day full of pool party hopping.

My circle of friends and people I see regularly shrank to a handful of beautiful and diverse humans that don't require me to be anything other than who I am, and all they want from me is to be happy. Nor do they need me to be their filler. Time spent with each of them is connected, present, and filled with love. We all share the same introverted qualities. And we all have conversations about how we should put ourselves more out there. It's a running joke at this point.

Later on therapy helped me see what was becoming so evident just by listening and being true to myself. I realized just how wrong I had it about who I was for a big chunk of my life. I used to think I was the epitome of an extrovert. But it turns out it was nothing more but an act to protect the real, more sensitive, introverted me. And as time went on, I dropped the act and started enjoying my own company. Not belonging to anyone but myself. I felt an immense sense of relief for the first time – not needing someone to witness my every move, no desperation to have a boyfriend like I used to. None of that. I was content.

Going hiking by myself, going to the movies, having dinner solo, going shopping, or traveling the world on my own didn't feel strange anymore. It felt peaceful. I never wondered what other people saw or thought about the "lonely guy" in a restaurant at a table by himself. I was too busy devouring plates of my favorite sushi and basking in the moment. Having the best time.

Then something happened…and I don't want to say it was social media, but it was social media. I found myself comparing and questioning if I am putting myself out there enough. Am I robbing myself of opportunities? Have I become a total recluse, and that's why I am single? Did I get too comfortable being alone? Should I have more friends? Should I date more? Is this normal? Is something wrong with me because I enjoy alone time and my own company so much? It all happened and got dark very fast.

And I realized there was something wrong. I had let a momentary feeling of sadness be compounded by the things I was seeing on my social media feeds. And that made me down-spiral and question the joy and contentment that had taken me so long to find because it didn't look like what others had. I wasn't at the parties everyone would be talking about the next day. I wasn't making new business contacts at networking events. I wasn't at the hip restaurants or taking the big group trips with the big group photos where everyone seemed to be having the best time.

But after getting out of my house from everything after my down spiral, I recognized just how lucky I was to have found my own contentment and know how that looks to me. We all find our joy and delight in different ways. But that doesn't make my way weird or wrong. I no longer feel guilty saying no to something I know I won't enjoy instead of forcing myself to do it just so I am not disliked. I treasure my time in solitude, not because I don't like people, but because I need it, and it helps me be a better person. I am grateful I no longer let the fact that my friends don't want to do an activity stop me from doing it, wasting a beautiful weekend on my sofa waiting around for who's gonna call me to do something. I feel very fortunate to realize that who I thought I was isn't at all who I am. And that when I stopped trying to be everything to everyone else, I became me. I can honestly tell you, having spent some extensive time in my own company, I am pretty awesome. And since I am being honest, I very much prefer the introverted me over the exhausting life I used to lead trying to keep up, being like everyone else, and being the epitome of an extrovert. But I can always turn it on in an emergency and be the extroverted introvert.

© 2024 by Michal Gregus

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