**This article was submitted to my column at Psych Today and denied, because they said it was too anecdotal. (Since when have I not written anecdotally? Mmmm, okay! Anyway. Decided to post on the blog for the first time in a million years. Why not. Things are brewing anyway. I might as well get back in the habit.) 🙂
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The global pandemic revealed many things. (Most of which are not to be covered here.) However, the biggest reveal was a sudden influx of people identifying as introverts. Why did a global pandemic reveal such introversion?
Despite being the “Doctor of Nonsense” (on Psychology Today) I’m not actually a doctor. I am, however, a bona fide genius when it comes to sniffing out a real introvert versus someone who just doesn’t wanna attend the potluck they agreed to. I’m an introvert playing an extrovert. (Also, a people pleaser playing a tough girl.)
When the pandemic decimated my book tour (and, yes, the world), I realized how much I wanted to sit down and breathe—even though breathing didn’t feel too safe in March 2020. I had been hyped up and super-social for the better part of six months, and, whew—I was tired.
When I sat still for a beat, I did a lot of the “I am home, and therefore I will be most productive” stuff. I know many of you did too. Some people wrote actual books and produced films. I tried. I really did. I produced not much more than a 20-pound weight gain.
But I have to admit that almost three years later, I’m still a bit in my shell. I got into the part of the “can’t leave the house, sorry” mode, and I haven’t been quick to leave.
I’m a little less productive. I went back to working as a lawyer—in my pajamas—of course. (I would never if it required a suit; let’s be real.) But this morning, I realized I hadn’t written for this column in a really long time.
That made me sad, because I really love this column. I am most proud of it, honestly. Also, my posts “should” be much smarter than this one. But I wanted to say, in all of my anti-Nonsense, wisdom: If you are still in your shell, real introvert or not, it’s OK. Maybe you need to feel safe just a little while longer. Also, I think in my hiding I decided that I wasn’t worth reading. That I sucked. That everything I had ever written was garbage on top of a pile of garbage, sitting in a dumpster. That everyone was tired of reading things and opinions.
Really, though, I felt just plain ashamed that I “failed” at ______. Whatever you’d like to fill in the blank. The pandemic definitely left a strange aftermath of failure (of course), but even in small ways. A small shame that maybe I wasted those months at home. That I produced nothing. That I went into a shell and didn’t really come out.
And maybe I, or you, won’t ever fully emerge again.
To that, I say: also OK.
Yes, we owe bills and have jobs. Children might also be on the list, or aging parents, patients, and the like. We might technically “owe” the IRS or need to pick up the dog from the vet.
However, real freedom comes when you stand up and take ownership of your life—and, if applicable, your desire to hide a little. You can do your job, and also hide a little. You can take care of kids, and also hide in the bathroom a little. Breathing space, even in small batches, is a right. But only if you claim it.
No one is entitled to know everything about you. At the same time, the more we discuss our desire to be a little more introverted—whether in reality or in practice—then we, as a culture, can accept each other with more grace.
So, fellow introvert-extroverts and newly discovered introverts: Let’s no longer carry the shame of hiding a little. Let it go. You didn’t write the great American novel these last few years? Who cares. You didn’t finally lose that baby weight? Who cares? Truly.
What in the world can be done about that now?
Instead, let’s applaud how our hiding has led us right to this moment. Let’s applaud how the hiding actually kept us safe in its own way.
You don’t need my permission to also continue to hide, but I will give it anyway.
Permission to stay right where you are? Granted.
It’s OK if you need to hide a little while longer.
Just don’t hide too long—because, it turns out, that we really will miss you when you’re gone for too long.