I think when most people think of the introvert personality they think, in error – shyness, or more accurately, social avoidance. Social avoidance is one aspect of introversion, but we tend over time and with acceptance of our personality quirks, to grow adept at maneuvering around social occasions; because they’re indeed occasional by design, and not constant. We learn to prepare for social stimulus.
The personality trait I struggle most with, on the other hand, is a continuous barrage of thoughts and ideas – the forgotten stepchild of many an introvert personality. Even though ideas are our fuel, an incessant bevy of them can be as exhausting as making small talk for more than a minute.
My mindset seems to never tire, nor fully accommodate this bipolar pattern of “thought-sweat.” We’ve all heard someone say they’re mentally tired – that’s what I’m talking about; and this kind of exhaustion – the feeling of being spent, is every bit as legitimate as physical tiredness.
We introverted types are often pigeon-holed by others as quiet, all the time. In actuality, I’m at times, so mentally loquacious, I experience an enormous spillover compulsion and have to talk and talk and talk until I’ve spent everything that’s been building, brewing, stewing, steeping and growing inside me. Or I write.
Thank you, dear spouse for taking on the loving role of holding tank for my insights – and genuinely appreciating them. Part of what makes you – ambivert that you are – my perfect and forever partner, is the fact that you are sometimes the only person who gets my sarcastic humor and you understand my psychological need for space, often when your extrovert side wants “contact.”
Frequently, quiet times are the introvert’s moments of renewal for the next overflow of insight. Silence prepares us for the energy needed to think imaginatively again.
Often, I’m overstimulated with ideas and exhausted by over-thinking. I cannot tell you how many properties over the years, I’ve imagined owning and re-imagined for one purpose or another; how many imaginary trips I’ve taken; jobs I’ve imagined; imaginary speeches I’ve made; academic programs I’ve completed – even dissertations I’ve written, in my imagination.
The flow of many an introvert’s imagination is incredible, thorough, detailed, structured, and full of possibility. For example, in the blink of an eye, my thoughts might go like this:
- “There are so many things I would like to have been; it’s mind boggling. Like an English teacher. So, could have Mom. She was my model grammarian. I probably love writing because of her. Then there was that letter I received in the 9th grade inviting me, “on good authority that I would make an excellent journalist,” to join the Press Club.
- I should have been a conservationist or preservationist like Beatrix Potter (also a notable writer – one of my favorites, and illustrator). I love nature; walking in nature, not hard-core hiking or backpacking or Appalachian-trail-type stuff, but strolling, pacing, or lollygagging, for the purpose of clearing my head, changing up the scenery, exercising, or generally hanging-out with God in the stuff He created.
- Speaking of God and creation – He created me an introvert – and that’s a good thing. I love that poetic Scripture from Psalms that says God wondrously knit me together in my mother’s womb. He made me the way I am, on purpose. I wonder why God gave me intuitive gifts, that seem not to bear fruit or benefit throngs of people.
- Speaking of people – I should like people more. Truth be told, I actually love people, but prefer to love them in writing, not as much in person, or especially in groups.
- I frequently find myself wanting to be a medical professional, then I remember the blacking out at my several attempts to assist in the medical process. I also remember that the fantasy of being in medicine is all I need to fulfill that psychological longing – (checkmark).”
I’m reminded that fantasy, a gift to us introverts, allows us to be all of those things we imagine. Similarly said of reading books, all one needs to be rich and full, is an extravagant, unrestrained imagination; visionary ideas; and brief indulgences in illusion.
Speaking of illusion – often when I’m walking in or near the woods in my neighborhood, I’ll see at a distance something that at first thought, is a wild animal; a deer, porcupine, weasel, fox or bear, only to be corrected when up close, the animal turns out to be an overhanging branch clinging to dead leaves or a clump of dried grasses; or a black, Angus cow, escaped from a nearby farm. But the illusion, like any fantasy provided a rush of possibility; and along with it a spark of hope, in general.
With time, learning, and the gift of acceptance, I’m relinquishing the slippery slope from fleeting, creative fantasy to a deeply fixed and fanciful belief, or delusion. Having gone through an intense period of fundamentalist Christianity (traits which carry over to any fundamentalist tradition – Christian, Muslim, political liberalism or conservatism), I developed firm convictions and walked around in complete confidence in the truth of my beliefs; only to come around to a more peace-led, balanced system that celebrates my fallible imagination, gifted by God-within. I’m humbler now, and liberated.
I’ve settled, not unhappily nor by the acceptance of a lesser state, on being a generalist, not a specialist – and to write about everything, anything, that comes to mind – and that’s a lot. So, I’m a personal essayist – it’s settled.
There is a point when I come to a complete halt – experience a tilt in the pinball machine of my mind or hear the buzzer of an off-balance washing machine. I can’t take anymore thought and have to find my feet or hit the ground, whichever process stops the abundance of ideas swirling around inside me.
The things that bring me out of the overflow – once reverie, of thoughts that have turned brown and limp, troublesome, and empty, are chores or jobs that are mundane, un-skilled, and I’m sadly good at, but productive, concrete, “sh—work” – like hand washing dishes, doing laundry, cleaning anything, reorganizing a closet, tidying up a room, sorting papers, answering a matter-of-fact email or prioritizing or obliterating my inbox of tasks I didn’t have the emotional energy to deal with yesterday or last week.
The spigot has effectively been turned off – for now. It’s time for quiet and respite – until next time.