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Posts Tagged ‘introvert’

  1. Hope for Introverts Who Feel Like Party Poopers

    May 10, 2015 by Diane

    People in a concert

    Recently a friend invited me to attend a three-day camping/music festival in the mountains, an hour drive from where I live. For an introvert, three days amongst hordes of people and loud music is nerve-wracking. “Sounds fun!” I said, and then immediately began fretting.

    Will there be port-a-potties? I hate port-a-potties. What will I do with my stuff: my lawn chair, my backpack, my snacks and meals and bottled water and book and writing tablet and sleeping bag and whatever comfort crap I lug with me? And then there’s the hour drive up winding mountain roads. Driving is not my forte. And chitchat. I loathe chitchat! I never know what to say.

    But I told myself: it will be good for you to get out from behind the keyboard and mingle. So I bought a ticket.

    Except I nixed the camping part.

    And the three days.

    I committed to one day. For a few hours.

    Do you see how my introverted brain narrowed my experience so quickly? And still I worried! I worked myself into a nervous wreck. A weekend of fun turned into something that required me to gird my loins well in advance.

    Why?

    Because of the thoughts I entertained. Those thoughts were unwelcome guests, crowding the space in my mind.

    I tried smiling. It temporarily lulled my body into thinking that all was safe. I tried meditating, focusing on my “third eye,” directing my gaze upwards. It eased my racing heart, somewhat. I tried engaging in soothing self-talk. The only difference between today and any other day is the knowledge that I’m going to a music festival, and the dysfunctional thinking that I’ve attached to that future experience. But in spite of all the self-talk and relaxation techniques I still felt like damaged goods, unable to look forward to an event that most people would find enjoyable.

    What’s the matter with me!? I agonized.

    In desperation, I turned to the book The Introvert Advantage: How to Thrive in an Extrovert World. The author, Marti Olsen Laney, devotes a whole chapter to attending parties and other such events. What I read gave me new insight into myself, and changed my outlook. By Saturday morning I was eager to hit the road.

    What were Laney’s tips?

    Read on, fellow introverts.

    First: you are not damaged goods. You’re an introvert, and crowds will suck the energy from you. Extroverts thrive on gatherings and other people; it’s how they recharge. Introverts recharge by going within. So it’s natural to feel anxious before attending a big event. Here is how to make the experience less overwhelming:

    1. Relax the day beforehand to conserve your energy.

    I spent the afternoon in the park reading, and after a leisurely dinner, I watched a DVD before going to bed.

    2. When you arrive at the event, acclimate yourself gradually. Stand on the fringes and take it all in. Allow other people to approach you. When you’re feeling comfortable, proceed into the belly of the crowd.

    When I arrived, I greeted my friend, located the restrooms (yay, no port-a-potties!) and slowly made my way to the main stage. I set up my lawn chair in the back of the crowd next to three people sitting in lawn chairs and reading books. My kind of people.

    3. Take breaks as needed. Go to the restroom to escape, or step outside and take in some air.

    I wandered off by myself to take in the breathtaking view of the redwoods and the fog drifting in from the coast, and then found a small jazz trio jamming in the mess hall.

    4. Set a time limit for how long you’ll stay.

    I decided to give myself until 6:00, so I wouldn’t have to drive down the mountain in the dark. I ended up staying until 7:00, because I was having such a great time.

    5. Schedule downtime the following day to recharge your batteries.

    It was back to the park for me, with a good book.

    I am happy to report that the experience could not have been more perfect.

    Takeaways this week:

    The Introvert Advantage by Marti Olsen Laney. If you’re an introvert and want to understand why you are the way you are, or you’re an extrovert who wants to understand introverts, get this book. Includes great tips on how to find balance in an overwhelming world.

    Respect your strengths as an introvert (creativity, good listening skills, lasting relationships, persistence, concentration…to name a few), and the requirements needed to protect your energy. Constant activity and loud noise is a drain. That’s okay. Take breaks as needed, set a time limit for participation, and rest before and after engagements.

    Conversations with groups can be intimidating. It takes longer for introverts to formulate ideas when conversing (it’s how are brains are wired), but that’s okay. A good line to use: “Give me time to think about it,” or “I’ll get back to you on that.” Or just smile, maintain eye contact, and let the extroverts do all the talking. They love to!

    Category Fer Cryin' Out Loud | Tags: ,,,, | 18 Comments

  2. Feeling socially awkward? Take some tips from Twitter

    April 26, 2015 by Diane

    Twitter bird

    Twitter is a hugely popular social media site. There’s something appealing about schmoozing with total strangers in 140 character increments. As an introvert, it fits my comfort level.  But what about face-to-face interactions? Could Twitter teach the socially-awkward something about communicating in person? Based on what I’ve observed on the site, here are my top ten do’s and don’ts for making a connection in the flesh.

    1 Do get to the point when talking. With 140 characters, there’s little room for idle chit-chat. On behalf of introverts everywhere, I’ve decided to make this a rule. Get to the point. Nobody wants to hear everything going on in your head. Just the highlights.

    2. Don’t share highly personal information with people you don’t know. Would you approach a group of strangers and blurt out the details about your parents’ divorce? Would you turn to the person squeezed next to you on the subway and tell them you have a cyst on your ovary? No. Why? Because they don’t know you. And they don’t know what to do with that information. It’s best to keep your interactions with strangers light, funny, or helpful. Don’t bleed in the lap of someone you’ve just met.

    3. Don’t expect to have meaningful conversations when you’re in a room packed with 1,650 people who are all shouting at the same time.

    4. Do shut up occasionally, and wander amongst those 1,650 people, and listen. When you hear something interesting (and you will, eventually), tag the person who said it, draw them to the side, and respond.

    5. Don’t approach every person you meet, tell them you’ve just published a book and it’s available on Amazon, and then walk away. People will start to avoid you.

    6, 7 and 8. Do expect to capture the attention of, oh, say a publisher, if you have 5,000 people following you around every day. Especially if they’re eager to pay for whatever wisdom you choose to emit. But don’t pretend that you know anything about those 5,000 people, except maybe the dozen disciples in the closest proximity who can actually hear what you’re saying. Those stragglers in the back? They’re eventually going to stop following you, because hey, where’s the joy in following someone you can’t even see or hear? Don’t take it personally when those stragglers disappear.

    9. Don’t expect to feel nourished when walking past a line of people who have exactly one second to tell you something important.  That’s about as fulfilling as trying to read a constantly changing Twitter feed. Real nourishment comes from having a one-on-one conversation, sharing meaningful ideas.

    10. Don’t be surprised if people take offense when they can’t engage you in conversation. As an equivalent to lining up tweets on HootSuite, theoretically you could wake up early, leave a voicemail or text on the cell phone of everyone you know, and assume that at some point during the day, probably while you’re working your nine-to-five desk job, they’ll hear that message. Alternatively, you could place a cardboard cutout of yourself on every street corner, spouting a tape-recorded monologue. While this technique may be highly appealing to introverts, it doesn’t foster a connection with others. Still, it’s highly appealing. On second thought, let’s make this a do.

    Category Fer Cryin' Out Loud | Tags: ,,,, | 4 Comments

  3. What Makes a Writer?

    March 22, 2015 by Diane

    hand opening red curtain on white.

    What compels a person to isolate herself in a room, have imaginary conversations with people who don’t exist, observe life from the sidelines, and suffer extreme highs and lows? Is it neurosis, or art?

    In her book The Forest for the Trees: An Editor’s Advice to Writers, Betsy Lerner asks, “Is your neurotic behavior part of your creative process or just…neurotic behavior?”

    I decided to peel back the curtain and take a look at what makes up the writer’s personality:

    1. The voyeur

    Lerner says, “…the great paradox of the writer’s life is how much time he spends alone trying to connect with other people.”

    This “trying to connect” became painfully obvious to me when I accepted a friend’s invitation to hear a live band at a bar and grill downtown. I wasn’t prepared for the assault of music, so loud that we had to shout to hear each other. My ears ringing, I parked myself on a stool with a view of the band and the kitchen, the smell of something akin to rotting food and spilled wine overpowering my senses, and I was back in junior high again, the wallflower watching others on the dance floor flinging their arms about, twisting their hips, one bespectacled man in a hat firmly grasping the derriere of a young blonde woman. I might have joined in (the dancing), but couldn’t bring myself to budge from my perch. Why? I felt paralyzed. Was it social anxiety? Was I showing my introvert colors? Was my ability to interact with my tribe reduced to 140 character tweets and 700 word blog posts?

    No. You’ve changed, I told myself. You’re more reflective now, more meditative. This just isn’t your scene. Followed swiftly by: you haven’t changed at all. You’re still that twelve year-old aching to be included.

    Have I become a voyeur? An observer of life, mentally recording sense impressions, and not a participant?

    2. The neurotic

    I spend a great deal of time alone, writing, and there’s a danger there: I become lonely. Even in a coffee shop surrounded by people, I’m focused solely on my words. Yet at the same time, I’m not lonely at all: I have imaginary friends who populate my pages. I have ideas I immerse myself in, conversations in my head to imaginary readers—albeit one-sided conversations—but I anticipate the reader’s response.

    Am I neurotic?

    3. The schizophrenic

    I write in many voices. Here’s one:

    Oz is within, man. It’s always been within. Isn’t that what Baum was saying? There’s no place like home-sweet-home, man, but that home-sweet-home is inside you.

    And another:

    We were doing okay, you and me. We were doing what people do on Sundays…reading the newspaper, slurping coffee, eating a late breakfast of bangers and mash, taking a drive, and then you straightened up in the passenger seat at the stoplight and said “that’s it, Pete. I want a divorce.” Just like that. And the light turned green and I sat there, my mouth open, until the driver behind us tooted his horn.

    And another:

    There wasn’t much evidence. A wallet. A handkerchief. The boss chalked it up to another rendezvous when the missus was gone. Who shot him? And why? You might be wondering these things, and that’s good. You keep on wondering. Because what I’m about to tweak your ear with could fill a shot glass in an hour.

    All these voices: am I schizophrenic?

    4. Bi-Polar

    Some days the writing goes well, the ideas flow, the words flow into pleasing patterns and I’m on a high. Other days I struggle to be clever, or concise, or compelling. Plot becomes elusive. A character becomes passive. I plunge into hopelessness and slog through despair and wonder if I’ll ever finish the novel, the copy, the post.

    Am I bi-polar?

    5. The Artist

    Writers are a neurotic breed. We teeter from neurosis to neurosis, blessed with a “gift” but also a “whip,” to borrow from Truman Capote. It’s the mark of the artistic temperament. It’s the way of the creative process: to observe, isolate oneself, experiment with voice,  “stalk our demons” for material (as Lerner advises), to triumph and fail.

    So, to answer the questions I posed: am I a neurotic schizophrenic voyeur with bi-polar tendencies?

    No.

    I’m a writer.

    Category Behind the Writer's Curtain | Tags: ,,, | 6 Comments

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