Being an introvert sucks sometimes

I’m an introvert, in the psychological sense of the word, not the ignorant, uninformed sense of the word. Most people, who are extraverts BTW, think introverts are shy, rude and stuck-up. In actual fact, it’s more that I’m comfortable in my own company and feel overwhelmed by the energy created by large groups of people.

I don’t enjoy crowds and prefer one-on-one conversations over trying to get a word in edge ways in a group. I'm uncomfortable in social gatherings so I tend to find myself a quiet corner from which to observe a party. I have no issues with people approaching me to talk, but I’ll never be the one to go up to a stranger and strike up a conversation. I have a small group of friends, all of whom I love deeply, and a small group of situational friends – colleagues mostly.

Considering that introverts make up, at most, 25% of the world’s population, the world is naturally more geared to an extravert personality. Clubs, pubs, open plan offices, sporting events – mostly they exist to fulfil the extraverts need to recharge, by feeding off the energy of others. Introverts, who recharge by withdrawing into themselves, find these situations completely draining.

For the most part, I’m content with being an introvert. I enjoy solitary activities like embroidery, paper crafts and reading and I spend quality time with favourite people to keep from getting lonely. If I need a change, I go to a restaurant or coffee shop and let other people’s energy wash over me as I submerge myself in a good book.

But every now and then, like last Friday, I just want to be like everyone else. I want to want to get dressed up and party at a club. I want to look forward to attending a work function, since I get invited to so many of them. I want to want to go out and have the kind of mindless fun that the rest of the world enjoys. I want to want to be a little more frivolous. As hard as I try, I just can’t make myself actually want these things. Even when I decide that I’m going to have fun at a social gathering, and psych myself for it by playing my favourite upbeat music in the car, ten minutes after arriving at said event, I’ve had enough and just want to go home.

My desperation reached an all-time high on Friday – I actually considered taking drugs to release myself from this introverted prison. It was only a fleeting thought; the control freak in me wouldn’t stand for that kind of recklessness. But it did help me understand why some people take drugs – to switch off their brains and just fit in for a while.

A-Friend sent me a link to a piece debunking some of the myths surrounding introverts a while ago. The first time I read it, it helped me feel less of an outcast. I reread it every few months, when I’m railing against the short comings of my DNA, because introversion isn't just state of mind, it is actually a biological part of a person. I suspect there’ll be daily readings for the next week or so, until this desire to be different passes.