An Open Letter to My Fellow Introverts

Dear Fellow Introverts,

This one’s for you.

{To our extroverted friends: hello! None of this applies to you, but feel free to read along in an attempt to better understand the introverts in your life. Also, thanks for being you. We promise we like being friends with you even if we turn down your invitations to go out 78% of the time.}

Continuing on, fellow introverts aka Marian-in-the-Mirror, I have two words for you today: show up. These are the words we need to carry with us every now and then. But let me back up.

This morning I woke up and regretted the fact that I’d told a friend I’d go run a 5k with her. I was tired, and my body felt funky, and I was two-thirds of the way into the book I was reading, and the arm chair was comfortable, and bed still sounded incredibly appealing, and the list could’ve gone on. Because I’m a deeply compulsive people pleaser (and really only because of that), I dragged myself out of the door to meet my friend. And here’s the punchline: I had a really great time.

I made some new friends. I got a little exercise. And my bladder gave out on mile three, which made me laugh really hard and gave me a funny story to tell you guys! Isn’t it wonderful having had your body permanently rearranged by multiple pregnancies?

Something about the experience (forcing myself to the 5k, not the bladder issues) reminded me of the time I was getting my hair cut by a fellow squadron spouse and she somehow talked me into going to a dinner that I had carefully managed to avoid committing to. One moment, she’s chopping my hair off, and the next moment I’m digging through my clothes trying to find something suitable to wear (ie. not my normal uniform of skinny jeans and snarky t-shirts). And again: I had a really great time.

The other spouses and I laughed hysterically. The food was halfway decent. And we proved the speaker’s point that community and laughter go a long way towards resilience and hope.

Truthfully, this happens almost every time I go out with people. I dread it on the way in. Really, I do. Formal occasions are the worst. And you would think that I’d be used to them now after the last fourteen years of going to retirements and squadron functions and Air Force balls. Nope, every time I think I’m going to be sick. And then without fail, every time, there is something or someone that makes it worth it.

This is why I’m giving you my two words: show up.

Show up and wait to be surprised. Show up and look for ways to serve. Show up and see who has a story they are willing to share with you (often, a story they need to share). Show up and look for someone else who looks uncomfortable (trust me, you’re not the only one). Show up and just be kind.

So very many times, it’s the showing up that’s the hard part. Once you’re actually there, the extroverts have already gotten the party started, and most of the time, they’re only too willing to drag your introverted rear into the fun. But we have to choose to be there first.

Now, I’m not advocating showing up for all the things. That is a recipe for disaster. (My friends have invited me to a 6am gym work out Monday-Thursday—and that sounds miserable to me. They keep inviting me, and I keep laughing in their faces.) But pick a few things. Things that matter to you. Things that matter to the people who matter to you (that may be more to the point).

And then tell your fuzzy socks and your book and your cozy blanket and your large mug of tea that you’ll be back in a little bit—and show up. Why? Because you might have a great time. But mostly because we aren’t meant to live alone (yes, even us introverts).

Alone time is great. It’s necessary and healthy and probably a thing our extroverted brethren should try out every now and then. But if that’s all there is, we will have no community. And without community, we might survive by the skin of our teeth, but that is literally all we will do. We won’t grow, that’s for sure, and we definitely won’t have anyone we can rely on in the tough times, and most importantly, we won’t have anyone with whom to share the enjoyment of a vivid sunrise or a perfectly flaked pastry or a race well run.

So for today, I’m saying thank you that I showed up—first at the 5k and then at the pool with friends and right now with my written words for you. And then I’m encouraging you to try showing up a little more often yourself.

As I tell Tiny every night at dinner: “Try it. You might like it.” Show up.

Signed,

Your fellow introvert

PS Cheering you on from over here. I promise. msf