Why Introverts Might Be the Most Connected People You Know
Introversion is often misunderstood as the trait of someone that solely recharges alone. This is actually only part of the story. Introvert leaning folks also thrive in certain types of social settings.
The Cloak the Mind Makes
There are lots of backstories for introversion — some of it is simply how we were born — but there are also additional factors that can lead to feeling safer in specific environments. As a trauma therapist, I am inclined to focus on these.
A lingering symptom of trauma is the sense that we are broken, ruined, or “not ok” and these types of feelings can lead to a felt experience of isolation. Combine that with a deeply divided society, a sensitivity to over-stimulation, and/or a chronic illness and it can sometimes feel almost impossible to make friends.
I have spent a lifetime combating my own sense of isolation — and I say “sense” with deep intention, because it is a story that my mind will spin regardless of the actuality of my reality. The more honest I have been able to be with myself about who I am, the more I am able to recognize isolation webs as a protective cloak that my mind fabricated a long time ago to keep me safe and cozy when my internal alarm bells are ringing.
This is the story of what I’ve learned in order to hang the cloak in the closet — or at least take it to the laundrymat for a wash.
The Morning Ride
My peak socializing energy is definitely in the morning or during the day and the perfect setting for me is a quiet and comfortable space. Being outdoors is a plus — sunshine or rain I am a bicycle fanatic and I will enjoy my time on two wheels with whomever is willing to join me.
I realized recently, after experiencing some FOMO around missing an interesting evening event, that I was discounting this type of socialization because in my mind, evening socialization is the most “valid” kind of social experience. Catching myself perpetuating this storyline helped me pull a thread from that cloak.
The next morning, after the aforementioned FOMO, I got up early for a ride with a friend who’s also been feeling some social isolation, and we connected over this very topic. We connected. We rode our bicycles in the sunshine, along the water and spoke about our shared experience of the world. What noisy, overstimulating, chaotic evening outing could replace that?
We Are Not Alone in Our Aloneness
Another common trap that I find myself tangled within is the story that everyone else already has the friends they want. Good/bad news: I have lots of evidence that there are plenty of people out there dreaming of deeper connection.
When we are feeling isolated, we are likely to become more attuned to noticing folks that are in connection — so that we can silently shame ourselves for our own shortcomings. The reality is that if we turn our gaze even slightly to the right we might notice someone else longingly gazing at that very same connection we are coveting.
Living with Chronic Illness
Adding a chronic illness to the menagerie of life makes things even more exciting. The illness itself may or may not respond to treatment and we may or may not have the means/energy/ability to manage it at any given point in time and life. We are at the will of this force that we coexist with.
Living with a chronic illness means that my social life has been more creative than conventional. At times I grieve the things I might be doing if I was well enough — but once the clouds clear, I realize how it has helped me focus on the relationships that matter to me. I put the energy I have into helping these buds blossom and ultimately I feel more satisfied and loved than ever before. Performance is less of an option and that isn’t necessarily a loss.
The practical upshot of all of this, for me, has been learning to extend the same flexibility to my social self that I have slowly learned to extend to my body. That means saying yes to the morning ride and no to the evening event — without the accompanying shame spiral.
It means being honest with people I trust about what I can and cannot do, and noticing — with some surprise — that this very honesty tends to bring people closer rather than push them away. It means recognizing that a two hour conversation on a porch is not a consolation prize for a night out. It is, for me, the whole point.
If any of this resonates, I want you to know that the cloak is not a character flaw. It was stiched with care, by a younger version of you who needed it. The work is not about getting rid of it entirely — it is about learning when you are wearing it out of habit rather than necessity, and having the courage to hang it up long enough to let someone in.
The friends are out there. Some of them are drinking tea in the morning sunshine right now, wondering the same things you are, hoping someone will show up for a sic ride.
Heal Into Your Desires 