In a time when we are all striving to understand ourselves, discover who we really are and figure out how that individual fits in with the rest of the world, the question of being introverted or extroverted can rise to the surface. Most of us have probably always had a sense of which one we are. I was always considered an extrovert. I grew up performing—piano recitals, school plays, morning TV announcements at school—so it was assumed I was an extrovert. Plus, I love being around people. I don’t have a difficult time getting to know people, I don’t mind speaking in groups, even groups of people I don’t know, and I love loud, busy crowds.
But there is a more subtle side to me that has kept me confused for a long time about whether or not I’m truly an extrovert. While I love busy crowds, I don’t seek them out. When I plan a weekend night out, it includes one or two close friends catching up over a bottle of wine. Not a wild party. And no one else sees me at home by myself, perfectly content to spend time by myself. I can get stuck in my own head, unaware of what’s going on around me. I can read for a very long time by myself, uninterrupted, and I need peace and quiet to work.
So what about that definition of introverts and extroverts that says introverts get their energy from being alone, while extroverts get their energy from being around people? If I’m required to follow this definition, I probably do fall in the extrovert camp. But if that’s true, why do I come home from teaching 24 fifth graders and lock myself in my bedroom for a little while? Why don’t I pack my free time with parties and gatherings? Why don’t I surround myself with friends and fun on a regular basis?
The answer is so simple it’s amazing we haven’t realized it sooner. I’m not an extrovert or an introvert. I’m right in between, an ambivert. I fall right in the middle of the spectrum. I understand both of these worlds, and I draw strength from whichever one I need at the moment. Like with most things, we cannot classify the entire population into one of two distinct categories. What a relief. We all know how different we are, that we all have nuances and shadows of definitions. But I would be willing to bet that very few of us actually fall on one complete end of the spectrum or the other. To realize that we all have strengths and weaknesses, that we all contribute in our own unique way, and that may not completely fit a one-size-fits-all definition, is refreshing and can be truly liberating. Now, instead of feeling guilty for being an extrovert who loves spending time alone, or feeling a little too loud- for an introvert- in a group of people because I’m truly enjoying myself, I can rest in the idea that maybe none of us are all one or the other. Maybe we’re all just ourselves, a little bit in between and that’s perfectly alright.
