There is a common misconception within society that being an introvert automatically means that you tend to be shy and quiet. This is inaccurate.
The label simply means that you need time alone to recuperate so that you are ready to undergo your daily routine, rather than spending that recovery time in the company of others.
I usually fall into the category of introverts that are on the shy side, but this is more due to my personality than anything else. It takes a lot for me to become comfortable around strangers, and a large stretch of time often passes before I can allow myself to speak without reviewing every thought in my head before it leaves my mouth. Even nowadays, people that I’ve known for years remark that I speak more freely, but nothing has changed. It just means that I feel less confined by my own internal fears and don’t care about blurting out what comes to mind.
This results in people thinking that I’ve had a complete change in personality as time goes on, which is false. My thoughts remain constant, but my actions have a certain freedom that they didn’t have before. I do find it amusing when strangers consider me to be quiet and reserved when my family knows that I am the complete opposite. If I become comfortable in your presence, I am far more multifaceted than the quiet individual you first meet. But if I’m put in another new situation, I shrink back into that former shell until I feel satisfied emerging.
Even then, I need my privacy. My family has this running joke that they plan on ripping my bedroom door off because it is always closed whenever I’m home, but it represents a larger part of who I am: I recharge when I am alone. I need my privacy. If I had to state one of the most difficult parts about college, it would be sharing a room, and it’s not because my roommate is terrible or anything like that. It’s because when I need time to think for myself, my thoughts are on a tight leash because I don’t have my space.
Because I have always enjoyed my own company, some people interpret my need to be alone as if I’m being rude or hate other people. I don’t hate other people, and I don’t mean to be rude. I simply need to give my mind the freedom to recharge so that I can return to everyday life without feeling sluggish.
There was a certain question that struck me a while back: am I being a horrible person for spending time in my room when I am only with my family for a weekend? This nagged at me for a while, but after pondering it further, I recognized how my behavior shifts when my mental state has taken a nosedive: I’m moody, exhausted, and can barely keep up a conversation. I think that my family would rather see me at my best, enthralled in whatever we’re doing, then see me interact with them when my heart isn’t in it.
This is more than a journey into my own mind and how I work: it’s a plea. I do need my space and I may be more reserved at times, but don’t make the mistake of assuming that I dislike you or I mean to come off as rude. It’s just another facet of who I am.
