According to the quiz I just took on time.com, I am "most likely an introvert;" I already knew that, but confirmation is nice. Lately I have been coming across a wide range of articles on introversion and shyness. They crop up on the new sites I visit; they appear on friends' reading lists on Facebook. Then, this morning, I arrived at my parents' house to find a pristine copy of the February 6 edition of Time magazine on the corner of the kitchen counter waiting to be opened and read, the cover story in large, black print, declaring "The Power of Shyness". But my mother absconded with said reading material before I could get my mits on the mag. Well, I guess she did pay for it. Hence my attempt to find it online; hence my taking of the quiz; hence this blog.
Shyness and introversion are two topics which have interested me for years. When I was a freshman in English 101, I wrote that quarter's research paper on Social Anxiety Disorder. I don't remember the resources I used, but I do remember reading one article which seemed to indicate that SAD wasn't so much a disorder as it was extroverts trying to understand introverts, or people who, unlike them, did not seek out the lime light. That article, whatever it was, whoever it was by, struck a cord. Maybe, I thought, I'm not constantly on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Maybe I don't need medication to make me like people more. Maybe I am just another type of normal.
It's a thought that writer Jonathan Rauch deals with in his article for The Atlantic called "Caring for Your Introvert." Written in 2003, Rauch's article resonated, and continues to resonate, with many of his readers. In his article, Rauch distinguishes between shy and introvert by stating that "Shy people are anxious or frightened or self-excoreating in social settings; introverts generally are not. ... Rather, introverts are people who find other people tiring." He goes on to distinguish introverts from extroverts by explaining that "[e]xtroverts are energized by people, and wilt or fade when alone." I find it interesting that there seems to be a push to distinguish shyness from introversion, for Rauch is not the only one to do so. And I can understand why; shyness does seem to imply some lack in social ability. However, while there may be many introverts who are not shy, I doubt there are many shy people who are not introverts. But what do I know? I'm only a shy introvert.
Perhaps I describe myself as shy only because I have done so for much of my life, but, after reading Rauch's description of shyness, I'm rather inclined to think I was right all along. I do get nervous before some social situations, especially if there are a number of people involved (parties, in other words). I always have an attack of heart palpitations before I call someone on the phone. I get anxious, and slightly light-headed, in large crowds -- but that may be more of a claustrophobia thing. There are certain interactions which I once dreaded and no longer have to worry over thanks to our technological, anti-social world. I used to hate writing checks at grocery stores because it took longer, and I imagined all the people (two, usually) behind me in line rolling their eyes. One of my friends even came up with a mock check book and played cashier in her kitchen to help me practice writing checks. I also used to dread approaching bank tellers to deposit my pay checks, especially after one said to me, "You know you can do this at the ATM" (imagine it being said derisively, because that's how I remember it). Hallelujah for ATM machines (which I finally learned to use) and credit cards which make all of these awkward life moments either vanish or dwindle.
On the other hand, I don't think I'm completely useless at being social. It certainly depends on the setting and the people. If I know a number of partygoers at an event, I can often feel (emphasis on feel) like the life of the party, the belle of the ball, dazzling them with my razor-sharp wit, my insight into puzzling cultural happenstances, my brilliant white-toothed smiles (remember those Windows T.V. commercials where the narrator's would flashback and remember themselves as far more beautiful than they actually were? That's the kind of moment I'm having right now). All this before I break away from the party (early) to go home and veg for two hours before bed so I don't end up obsessing over what I said or didn't say or should've said -- something I don't imagine too many extroverts doing. This, apparently, is fairly normal for introverts, the need to recover and recharge. And yet still separate from shyness, which I sometimes feel is still seen as some kind of medicateable (it is a word because I say so) problem. When all is said and done, it appears to me that there is no definable way to describe introversion versus shyness. The lines, as the Times quiz stated, are always shifting.
Of course, none of this means that I take issue or umbrage with any of Rauch's points. On the contrary, I, like many of his readers, find his comments refreshing. It is nice to know that I'm not the only one who struggles to overcome the perception that I am a snob simply because I don't gush over someone's dress or shoes or nail color or that I'm aloof because I don't run around hugging people I've known for five minutes. Not that I'm bitter. Rauch does, however, make a statement in a later interview with The Atlantic which I find interesting and about which I have mixed feelings. On being told that his article has been one of the most popular pages on theatlantic.com, Rauch states that "[t]he internet is the perfect medium for introverts. ... [O]n the internet, no one knows you're an introvert."
He is so right. I love the internet. Given the choice between calling someone on the phone or e-mailing them, I'd choose e-mail every time. Hands down, even with friends, the exception being members of my close family. I find that I can communicate more clearly when writing. I don't worry as much about being funny (well, not always) or whether my stories are interesting or not. I don't have listen to myself try to sound outgoing or infuse my voice with obvious warmth or excitement. No one is going to say to me, "you sound bored." There's no initial small talk barrier to get past; I can just start saying what I want to say, and I can say it for as long as I want (which is why this blog is getting to be so very wordy). But there, my glowing comfort with electronic communication ends. I like texting, but I don't check my phone often enough to give the kind of quick responses people expect. Facebook is great for setting up social engagements, but I rarely comment on anyone else's postings or photos. When friends go through their so-called "friends list" and cull the unresponsive members of that list, I am often one of those who is dropped, even if we were, at one point, close.
My discomfort with social networking is probably rooted in the idea, frequently repeated by many far more educated people, that the more engrossed we become with our on-line selves, the less aware of the real-world we are. Is this misplaced? Maybe. Maybe the internet is the new real-world, and it's just a matter of time before we accept that fact. But I hope not. I would much prefer to visit Mt. Rainier, hike its many trails, witness its springtime rush of wildflowers, for myself than stare at its picture on my computer screen, scaled down to the size of a portrait. And maybe the further danger of social networking, of YouTube, of blogging, is seeing yourself as the main event. When so many people find instantaneous -- and fleeting -- fame through posting videos of themselves online, how can that hope for glory be avoided? How can we (or I) blame people for wanting to stand out? The ironic thing is that as individualized as we may feel our Facebook profile is or as unique as our video or blog may seem to us, 150 million other people feel exactly the same about their site.
A recent headline on The Guardian stated, "Social networking under fresh attacks as tide of cyber-skepticism sweeps US." The article covers a variety of U.S. based authors and their books on the problems with social networking, among those problems isolation and laziness, the loss of the ability to think or reason with any complexity. But, the article points out, that even these critics have critics. The internet has opened up communication between people who would not normally communicate. In a sense, the world is at our fingertips. But... but.
I can go either way here. Rauch's assertion that the internet is ideal for introverts is correct, but should it be the ideal? Are we limiting ourselves? Do we sacrifice a greater knowledge with our immediate surroundings in order to better grasp something on the other side of world, or computer screen as the case may be? As with all other wonderful freedoms, there come a new set of restrictions. I can't help but wonder if part of the problem so many people have with social networking is really just another introvert/extrovert issue. Have we stumbled across a medium that suites introverts better than extroverts, and extroverts just don't like not having their face time? That idea is probably off-base and certainly over-simplified, but it does remind me of that article from English 101. If you don't seek the lime light, there must be something wrong with you. If your idea of social interaction is an incessant volley of tweets rather than an incessant need for small talk, there must be something wrong with you.
I actually tend to think that social networking is yet another form of extroversion in introversion clothing. If I can't be compelled to comment on Facebook's endless wedding/honeymoon/baby pictures because I find it stressful trying to strike the perfect non-verbal tone in a unique, ten-word phrase, you can't tell me that social networking sites are any more shy-friendly than a crowded bar would be. Maybe tearing myself out of the house and dragging myself to a social gathering now and then is just as good for me as getting a computer geek out into the sunshine is for him or her. And maybe I should just take that idea and run and give all five of my loyal readers a break from my apparently endless nattering. If you happen to see me out and about and worry that I'm overly quiet and perhaps depressed, don't worry. I'm not. It's called silence. And it's a very good thing.
Articles I used:
Harris, Paul. http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/2011/jan/22/social-networking-cyber-scepticism-twitter
Rauch, Jonathan. http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2003/03/caring-for-your-introvert/2696/
Stossel, Sage. http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2006/02/introverts-of-the-world-unite/4646/
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