Introversion reversion

I've been having a tremendous difficulty with my lifestyle lately. While my kind of planet isn't quite getting blown up, it is definitely going through some changes. I daresay I'm living through the weirdest experience of my 36 years of existence. I speak of none but the coronavirus.

But we'll come back to that (and dispense with the gratuitous use of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy references). Surprisingly, the actual difficulty I've been having with my lifestyle is not the global disaster unfolding around me, but rather something much more mundane. It's that I've been having an identity crisis, about one very specific personality trait of mine: Am I really an introvert after all?

For most of my adult life, I was fairly confident in my extreme introversion. From the Myers-Briggs test I took in 10th grade, on which I scored 99% introverted; to the "Party Like an Introvert" kit I designed in grad school; to the book (The Introvert Advantage) I purchased in 2012—you don't know what a statement that is, from a person who never ever pays for reading material!—I solidly identified as an introvert.

But around the same time I purchased that book, something happened. I started drinking alcohol. What a miracle drug that substance is! All of a sudden, parties went from anxiety-inducing horror shows to something I could actually describe as fun! I was fortunate enough to start dating a certified extrovert shortly thereafter, which made meeting new people a regular, and totally tolerable, occurrence in my life.

After a few years of nonstop fun, my boyfriend lost interest in the social circuit, and the friends that I'd developed in that time started to disappear into their own private lives. Everyone I knew was getting tired out and ready to quit, while I felt like I was just getting warmed up! When my relationship ended last March, I threw myself wholeheartedly into building a new social network, seeking out activities and gatherings with abandon and partying like it was my job.

It was around this time that I began to question whether I really qualified as an introvert any more. While being extroverted seems like it would be an asset, the thought of it actually made me very uncomfortable. My whole identity was built on being introverted. If I was acting more like an extrovert than everyone I knew who actually claimed to be an extrovert, what did that make me? Well, I can now say with the wisdom that comes from a year of ruminating, it was "desperate."

After an early adulthood living like a shut-in old woman, I had finally discovered the joys of being young. After a lifetime of being mostly isolated, I had found a sense of belonging. All humans want to belong—even introverts—and so, I embraced every opportunity to have a social life, and when my tenuous connections began to unravel, I doubled down! On the surface, my actions seemed to be textbook extroversion (even to myself!), but I now believe it was actually me compensating for the handicaps of being a true introvert – and, oddly enough, the thing that made me realize it was the coronavirus.

I hesitate to make light of such a serious situation, but apparently every pandemic has a silver lining...and for me, it was once again feeling secure about my antisocial side. I spent much of the last year desperately seeking human contact. I started trying to organize get-togethers among my friends; I joined Bumble BFF; I considered each person I met a potential pal; I said yes to every invitation. To be honest, though, it was all getting exhausting.

All the anxiety about reaching out, the inevitable rejections, the struggle to keep connections current, the frequent hangovers (yes, what a miracle drug and a mistake that alcohol is!)—my efforts to maintain a social life were more cost than benefit. But I had to keep doing it—I had to! Or else I'd find myself depressed and lonely, just like I was all those years ago.

Then COVID-19 arrived. When I started reading about how our best bet to keep the spread of the virus under control was to practice "extreme social distancing," I was all in. If I could finally give up the frantic cultivation of a network and just coast along for a while, how wonderful would that be? If my being alone could be, not something forced upon me by my failure to form connections, but a personal choice that actually serves a public good, why should I not embrace solitude? On Wednesday, I vowed to do my part and cut all my in-person interactions to a bare minimum, until such a time as I feel the crisis is over. And I felt relieved by my decision.

That was when I knew I was still a member of the introvert club. While I wasn't exactly looking forward to weeks of self-imposed isolation, neither did I feel particularly bad about all the activities I knew I was about to miss. I have lots of things to keep me busy alone, and I knew I could handle it. For some reason, being alone by choice is not nearly as depressing as being alone by accident of fate.

Ironically, no sooner had I made that decision, than I was contacted out of the blue by 2 separate friends I hadn't heard from in an age, wanting to know if we could meet up sometime. What is it about a virulent illness that makes people want to come together? I don't know, but I declined one invitation and had the other one conveniently negated by the cancellation of all public gatherings. I got into a somewhat contentious exchange with the organizer of one of the Meetup groups I belong to, who insisted that I should come out to small group Meetups because they were not gatherings of 500 or more people, but I held my ground (or rather, I just stopped responding to her texts, as any true blue recluse would!).

I'm so glad I got back in touch with my introverted side, because it's not only making me feel like I have a better handle on my identity, but it's also making me feel like I have some control in a scary world that's getting crazier by the minute.

We, the citizens of the earth, are in an unprecedented situation right now, yet we have the power to do something about it. Introverts, unite! (Or rather, disband immediately!) Solitude will make us stronger.