The Pain of Being Introverted

It's Halloween. I'm supposed to be at a party that theoretically allows me to meet other scholarship students. I walk in, and almost immediately tense up. I completely shut down. Instead of trying to talk to anyone, I choose to text my friend to hurry up and arrive before I die of discomfort.

Ah, the joys of being an introvert.

It's not like I can't talk to people I don't know. And I pride myself on being (somewhat) easy to talk to. It's just that it's so damn hard. My heart goes in my throat, and it requires a sincere effort to get the words out of my mouth. And usually, I can put on a pretty brave front and act like I talk to strangers all the time (after all, I did do this when I worked in retail...but that was mostly because I would get fired if I didn't). But it requires way too much effort.

And the worst part of talking to people you don't know is that 99% of the time, you have nothing to talk about. So naturally, you pretend you have something to talk about. You ask them where they're from. Their major. Their hobbies. The freaking weather. Uggh. It's so hard and boring.

And that's not where the implications of being introverted stop. Something I suffered from throughout high school was the fact that my brother and I were literally in every class together. He is the polar opposite of me--crazy extroverted, natural leader, everyone loves talking to him, etc. So naturally, there was a constant comparison. Sometimes he would even blatantly point out how quiet I was in class, which is probably the last thing you want to do to anyone. And if I ever tried to talk to anyone, he would point that out too. "Oh, look who's finally talking to someone. Maybe you won't go through life alone." And then I would stop talking. So it's not just being introverted that hurts; it's the fact that more extroverted people notice and usually feel every obligation to blatantly point it out.

In many people's eyes, being introverted generally has a negative connotation--one that usually points to a social outcast. I wouldn't go that far. If you put me in the right situation, I'll talk. If you give me the right person, I can talk forever. But the problem is that the conditions have to be just so for me to feel completely comfortable. If not, usually I'll force myself to appear more extroverted, and it is a painful, painful process to pretend to be someone you're not. Yet, I wouldn't have met my friends this semester if I hadn't pretended like I wasn't introverted. Ah, the necessity of being as extroverted as possible in this society.

I'm getting better. I have done so many things within the past few months that I knew would be good for me but made me extremely uncomfortable. Heck, I even joined a somewhat clique-y club. Alone. And I am fitting in, slowly, but I'm getting there.

Sometimes it can be agonizing being introverted, but most of the time I'm okay with it. There are some advantages, but sometimes it is incredibly difficult feeling pressure to be someone I'm not naturally in this extroverted society. Or maybe, this society is actually introverted and we're all having to fake it to have a decent quality of life.