The Quiet Rise of Introverts

by Brenda Knowles

  It seemed the general belief in Western culture was that if you were not interacting in a relationship you hardly existed. Others shaped and proved our existence. They talked to us and touched us, therefore we existed.

  I learned that introverts dig deep into their inner worlds to find existential confirmation. When in solitude, we are in tune with our inner voice and our personal values become clearer. There is no one to refute them. Too much external stimulation and interaction, and our inner voice is muffled.

  I feel connected to others even when I am alone. I have time to miss them or wonder about their feelings. A desire grows to love and engage with them.

  My wish is for solitude to be an encouraged and accepted state. Those who crave it should not be ashamed or misjudged as selfish. Many of our greatest inventions and works of art were born out of solitude. The benefits of making space for reflection are endless, but below are a few of the key ones:

  •More self-awareness, a chance to hear our inner voice

  •Less anxiety due to a removal of the perceived gap between what we are and what we should be

  •More interpersonal understanding

  •More intuitive decision-making

  •Appreciation of beauty

  •Creation of art

  •Thoughtful actions and reactions

  Like Thoreau, Bukowski, and so many other writers and artists, I found solitude to be a fertile space for curiosity and ideas to bubble up and form associations where once there were none. Creativity thrives in solitude. While running on a trail, driving by myself, or dreaming lazily in the shower, sweet memories and random facts joined to become solutions to everyday dilemmas or epiphanies to be shared in my newest endeavor, at the time, space2live, a blog about introverts and relationships.

  SLOWING DOWN/PRESENCE

  The tag line for space2live was: Pay attention. Reflect. Evolve. Back in the days of running errands, carpooling, and constant busy-ness, I had to fight to stay awake and not get lost in the details of doing and doing. I’d had a taste of personal and creative awareness, and I wanted to learn more. I longed to slow down.

  “Willing is doing something you know already, something you have been told by somebody else; there is no new imaginative understanding in it. And presently your soul gets frightfully sterile and dry because you are so quick, snappy, and efficient about doing one thing after another that you have not time for your own ideas to come in and develop and gently shine.“ —Brenda Ueland, If You Want to Write: A Book About Art, Independence and Spirit

  The frenetic doing of modern life drained me. All of my energy went outward toward external tasks, but I was filled up by deep concentration and a new awareness of beauty.

  Writing for space2live subconsciously forced me to become a steadfast observer. I wanted the details of the senses to fill my writing with flavor and imagery. There was a new appreciation for nuances and ironies. In order to catch those, I had to pay attention. It’s hard to quickly pay attention. Presence and awareness take time.

  While on vacation in the Dominican Republic, my family and I took a tour off the grounds of the resort. While riding in our tour Jeep, we passed two Dominican women sitting in a doorway of a rusted tin shack. They were talking and smiling. They waved at us as our noisy Jeep drove by. A woman on the tour made the comment that Dominicans seem to take the time to enjoy life. Another woman quickly piped up, “Not me. I get anxious if I have too much time on my hands. My mind just doesn’t stop running.” It struck me as interesting that the poor Dominicans seemed to be more content than the privileged tourists. I wrote about it in a post for space2live using sensory detail.

  Staying present eases the grip of anxiety, in that it keeps our minds from wandering to a future where negative “What if…” scenarios play out. Worrying about what has not happened yet is counterproductive and stimulates the primitive and reactive part of our brain. Presence gives us a feeling of control because there is certainty in now. We can see, feel, hear, and taste what is happening now. The future is uncertain—a guessing game.

  For help staying present, I began to meditate and made a daily practice of it. I would spend ten glorious minutes sitting on my closet floor each day (a mom takes her privacy wherever she can find it), noticing my breathing and keeping my brain from thinking about what to make for dinner or if the kids’ vaccines were up to date. I’ve never had such a calm state of presence as I did when I would meditate regularly. Scientific research backs up my findings. A 2012 study done at Stanford University found that meditation practice was associated with decreases in negative emotion and social anxiety symptom severity, and used fMRI tests to show that the brains of meditators experienced measurable increases in attention-related parietal cortex neural responses (activity the more evolved part of the brain) when implementing attention regulation of negative self-beliefs.

  THOSE WHO ALLOW YOU TO BE YOU

  One day, years ago, I found myself sitting in the waiting area of the music school my son attended for guitar lessons. The school’s owner had come out and greeted me with a kind, gentle voice and then left. Within the quiet following his departure, I listened to musical notes drifting in from nearby classrooms. I smelled candles burning, their fragrance mixing with my slow, easy breathing. I noticed my frenetic spirit, rested. Personal ideas and dreams began to seep into my consciousness. I realized it had been a long time since I felt that at home and in tune with myself (outside of meditation and solitude). I imagined being a part of an artistic world of musicians, writers, creators. A world that seemed so magical, meaningful, and—for me—out of reach. I had never been especially musically gifted or artistic.

  I considered taking lessons myself, but I was afraid to step outside of my safe routines. How would that kind of me time affect my family? Was it selfish to consider playing guitar? I kept thinking about the lessons but was hesitant to sign up. I sent an email to the music school’s owner saying as much. He responded with, “Why do you feel guilty about taking time for yourself? I feel it’s the best thing in the world to fill yourself up, and then it spills onto everyone else.”

  I started lessons. The decision changed my life.

  Over the next few years, the music school provided a sacred place for my true spirit to reveal itself. My courage grew within the safe discussions that took place during my guitar lessons. The first lesson, Mike, my teacher told me of his love of the 1970s television show, Little House on the Prairie. I thought that was a fairly vulnerable admission for a man. I found his honesty refreshing and inspiring. I credit Mike for making lessons more than perfect scales and pristine playing. Each lesson was about learning and exploring the world as well as music. We read books together and analyzed spirituality, relationships, writers, and creativity in between guitar playing. Mike had a calm, safe presence. We became friends. He listened without judgment if I spoke of my worries about falling short in my roles as wife and mother.

  I still got nervous each time I played guitar with Mike observing me (a characteristic of those with Social Anxiety Disorder), but I also experienced deep satisfaction when we played together and I made it through a whole section (mistakes included). I was in a creative setting where it was OK to just be. I didn’t have to be perfect. I could play just for the pleasure of the sound, the experience, and the companionship.

  YOU DON’T HAVE TO WRITE RIGHT

  Buoyed by the positive experience of guitar lessons, I looked into another artistic endeavor. A friend mentioned a literary center in my area. She said it was a hangout and teaching center for writers of all levels. I checked out the website and found the course list inviting and non-intimidating.

  I chose “Intuitive Writing” as one of my first forays into the world of writing. Again, the format was loose and informal. The teacher, Roxanne, wrote the mantra “Follow your energy!” at the top of the syllabus. Roxanne (a psychoanalyst) made up the intuitive writi
ng label with the idea that we should write without censorship, without lifting the pen from the paper, and without judgment. Our thoughts should flow from our hearts, down our arms, and onto the paper. This, plus the sharing of our writing, would be healing and inspiring. Roxanne gave us prompts such as “What I really want to say is…,” and then we would write off-the-cuff for twenty minutes or so. We always had a choice regarding how much, if any, of our piece we read out loud. Roxanne’s gentle nature and absolute assurance there was no wrong way to write in her class quieted our inner critics. We could be vulnerable with our words. The class experienced joy and connection, with no fear of failure.

  At the end of the intuitive writing class, Roxanne invited me to join a small private writing group that served as an extension of the intuitive class. She led the private group as well. I eagerly accepted the invitation.

  I remember sitting around a kitchen table with my new writing group, feeling the intoxicating freedom of mutual vulnerability. We were all in various stages of learning and healing. We were looking for a place where we could remove our masks of false bravado. We were looking for acceptance and permission to make mistakes. In that place I wanted to share. I couldn’t stop myself from sharing what had been locked down forever.

  I had moved from a world where mistakes were pointed out and “right” was better than “kind,” to a space where support was palpable and stories resonated. Head nodding abounded. My spirit soared. It was easy to dream and feel grateful in that space. I wanted to spread that feeling, that spaciousness—but felt stunted in my regular world.

  DESPAIR: ANOTHER CHANNEL TO SELF-AWARENESS

  My day-to-day family life required all of us to have our acts together. No slipping, no falling short, no showing weakness. We were McMansion-deep in the meritocracy. I don’t believe anyone in my house felt safe enough to be vulnerable. There was always someone watching and waiting to exploit our soft spots. Fear was in the ether of our home. We kept breathing it in and spewing it out. We couldn’t get it out of our pores. The need to achieve and keep pace with the families in our community and socioeconomic level kept us all running, burying our true selves in the pursuit.

  As author Jonathon Fields says, “Self-awareness comes with an evil twin, self-judgment, which, for many, tips into fear, censorship and self-loathing with stunning efficiency.”

  Even though I was thriving in personal endeavors, subconsciously and consciously, I felt inadequate as a wife and mother. I didn’t love my husband enough. I didn’t sacrifice for my kids enough. I wasn’t a doer naturally. Now that I knew I was an introvert, I was extra aware I wasn’t quick on my feet with answers, decisions, and action steps. I didn’t have an advanced degree. I didn’t have a job making money.

  To make up for all of those inadequacies I tried to be my family and community’s version of perfect. I went against my introverted and sensitive nature. I emulated neighbors, friends and members of our community in order to receive validation.

  I was so unhappy at home. I bled energy and authenticity there.

  My husband would come home from work and sit in the car, dreading entering the house and dealing with the unhappiness inside. I tensed up the second I heard the garage door go up. That meant it was time to put on my competent and confident mask. Time to act like I did not spend a miserable day dealing with child meltdowns and tedious attempts to keep the house in perfect condition. Time to do my best to appear loving toward my husband, who felt like the kingpin to my misery—the reason I had to live in high gear. I did not want to fail in my duties.

  The externally generated tension that pushed me to seek relief from the doctor in the form of an antidepressant now sat squarely in my chest, reminding me of all my responsibilities and where I fell short. As I struggled to sleep each night, tightness in my chest accompanied a flashing reel of responsibilities to be handled the next day.

  I was now aware of my weaknesses as well as my joys, but the weaknesses dominated my everyday living, while the moments of true satisfaction only existed when I was free from my household.

  CHARACTER OVER COMPETITION

  In The Road to Character, author David Brooks says that all the people of great character in his book, including such notables as Dwight D. Eisenhower, George Marshall, and Viktor Frankl, had one pattern in common: “They all had to go down to go up. When they were in a crucible moment, they suddenly had a greater ability to see their own nature. They had to humble themselves in self-awareness if they had any hope of rising up transformed.” Brooks states that in the “valley of humility,” they learned to quiet the self and only in quieting the self could they see the world clearly.

  While following the recipe spelled out in the language of the competitive meritocracy, we have little self-awareness. We are asleep. While experiencing moments of quiet in solitude and nurturing relationships, self-awareness arises. We begin to wake up.

  As we open our eyes, self-judgment surfaces. We see or feel like we’ve missed out on something grand. We’ve assembled all of our external roles and rewards, but feel anxious. If we choose wrong, we could be cast out of our primary social circles for violating the norms. It’s not easy to know what to do when we’ve followed others for so long.

  We’ve never developed the inner fortitude to be able to handle popular disapproval. As an introvert, it hurts when we wake up to realize we are not the personality type our culture admires. It stings to know this, and yet it is in this time of humility that we start our transformation. We build resiliency and self-respect.

  While following the recipe for self-respect, we do not look to give ourselves a competitive edge over others. We look to be better than we used to be. We confront our weaknesses. We develop our eulogy virtues. We strive to be dependable in times of stress, and morally upstanding in times of temptation. Self-respect is earned by inner triumphs, not external ones. Inner triumphs feel like home to an introvert.

  CHALLENGES OF WAKING UP

  One challenge of waking up is escaping the lull of résumé virtues and other people’s recipes for life. We may seem independent, but our personal worth and integrity still reside in other’s value systems. We lack the vocabulary to describe and execute our inner desires and eulogy virtues. Résumé virtues are always going to be a part of our makeup. They push us to explore and build external success. The problem is that we fall asleep striving to achieve and compare ourselves to others. We don’t create strong inner realms that fortify us against disapproval. If we don’t consistently reflect and analyze our behavior and decisions, we are bound to make the same mistakes over and over, including (unsuccessfully) dating the same kind of people and (unhappily) working the same kind of job. Eventually, tension and anxiety tell some of us we are missing out on personal growth, significance, and meaning.

  Tension, solitude, paying attention, and positive relationships wake us up.

  Action steps for waking up:

  1.Notice the places where you feel a tension or dissonance in your life. Do you tense up when a significant person in your life enters the room? Does Sunday night bring about a feeling of dread because you have to go to work the next morning? Are you tired of spending every Friday night at home watching TV? Does it sound intriguing to get out and meet a few more people?

  2.Engage in and protect your solitude. See time alone as vital to your well-being, just like sleep or exercise. Explain to your children and partners that solitude is self-preservation for you, not rejection of them.

  3.While in solitude or in a group, use a prompt such as “The last time I was really angry…” to start ten to twenty minutes of uncensored writing. Do not stop writing the whole time. Do not edit. Let the subconscious become conscious. Share with others if you feel comfortable.

  4.Pay attention. At night as you lie in bed, picture a scene from the day and describe it in writing or in your head, including details from all five senses.

  5.
Notice where you feel energized or at home. Who, if anyone, is with you? List your relationships that feel most nurturing and nonjudgmental. Spend more time with them. Try new things with these safe people. People we love and admire positively influence our behavior and character.

  Another challenge of waking up or self-awareness is the self-judgment that comes along with it. Once we are aware of our traits and flaws, we realize others are aware of them too. While in this “valley of humility,” our ego quiets. We focus on victories over our weaknesses rather than on victories over others. In confronting our shortcomings, we build self-respect.

  Action steps for ameliorating self-judgment:

  1.Foster self-respect. Put yourself in a humbling situation like taking guitar lessons without any prior experience or skill. Let yourself make mistakes and survive.

  2.On your day off, instead of watching Netflix all day, offer to help someone and come through for them.

  3.Collaborate with someone you generally compete with at school or work.

  Practice Two: Calming Our Nervous System Principles of Self-Care

  The timing for writing this chapter on self-care was perfect. I was having one of those weeks where all of my energy flowed outward and very little flowed back toward me. My closest relationships required a lot of assistance and attention, but were unable to offer the same in return. I helped a friend move. Dealt with relationship challenges from my teenage son. Experienced no emotional intimacy with my significant other. Ran a million errands. Managed several house repairs. Slept poorly and managed to contract a rash on my face. Needless to say, my emotions ran high and my energy tank was running on empty.

  I’d been in this low place before. Self-awareness and experience provided guidance.