I cannot remember a time when I haven't felt awkward in social situations or preferred being alone to partying. I'm sure that makes me weird, but I am who I am. I am shy. I have always been shy and will most likely always be shy. I don't like being shy, but I find that I prefer quiet and my own company to noisy places and boors. I don't do casual conversation well; I like the reciprocity that comes from a conversation between two people. In fact, I can be quite social when I feel comfortable and when a few people are around. I enjoy conversation, especially about current events or education. I enjoy going out with others, but after a couple of hours, I'm ready to be home again.
When I've told people that I'm shy, an introvert, they've laughed. I can hide this quality, as most introverts do. I can be loud, act gregariously, but for short periods of time. After awhile, in most uncomfortable social situations, I find myself trying to find an excuse to leave. This usually happens when I feel that I've exhausted my gregarious resources, and I need to go and recover.
What's hard is that I'm married to an extrovert. He likes parties, bars, loud restaurants. He likes loud music and being on the go all the time. He, much like his parents, likes to surround himself with people. When we first met, I found it thrilling to be with someone with such energy. About three months after we met, I was exhausted! I looked forward to those times when he had to work late and get up early, simply so I could recharge. Twelve years later, I just tell him when I'm tired, when I can't go anymore. There are social functions that he does without me, simply because I need some alone time.
I need my daily allotment of alone time. Whether it's staying up a little later or taking a walk or a bike ride by myself, I need "me" time. I never feel guilty about "me" time because if I don't get it, everyone suffers. Years ago, my husband took my need to be alone as rejection of him, but he now understands that time away makes me a much happier person when I return. In social situations, I might wander outside or into public room (especially if it contains books!). I breathe, I relax, and I try to rejuvenate. There is a flip side to this need for alone time.
People who don't know me assume I'm a snob. They feel that my quietness or my aloneness is a rejection of them. If I'm outside during a party people think I'm not having a good time or that they need to come and keep me company. I'm urged to rejoin the party. I also find that it is hard for me to initiate conversation, especially with people I don't know. I'm not good at it at all, and I fear rejection and judgment. I like events where children are present because I feel comfortable with them. I have my son with me, and all of us play, tell stories, laugh.
Moreover, I hate going into situations where I know no one. I don't know how to talk to people, or so I think. I find my attempts are often rebuffed, probably because I project such social awkwardness as I try to find common ground. My husband is so much better at meeting people, and in social situations, I find myself clinging to him like a leech. I then feel badly for him because of my own social awkwardness. People, as soon as they find out I teach, want to tell me about their education, the teachers they hate(d), or make fun of education. However, it isn't any better when I'm with teachers; I feel awkward and uncomfortable with them too.
Being an introvert has helped in several situations. When I moved to Amarillo to teach, I knew virtually no one. I had to learn about myself while I was there, how to entertain myself, and how to be truly alone. Ultimately, living in Amarillo helped me when I had to go on bedrest for 20 weeks. While my husband came home for dinner, he wasn't home until 7 pm; he went to bed at 9 pm, so he could get up at 4:30 to leave the house and go to work. I was alone, completely alone, from 4:30 am until 7 pm each day. My mom was sick at the time, and a friend of mine would come over when she could, but I had to learn, once again, what it meant to be truly alone. I survived my bedrest, but I found that I crave my alone time.
It's hard to have enough alone time during the school year. By the time I'm home, I've worked with 100 or more students and adults during any given day. We still have homework or other afterschool responsibilities and activities, and I don't have the time or chance for alone time. My husband helps me carve out some alone time, which we all greatly appreciate.
I wouldn't suggest that being an introvert is the best way to live a life, but it is my way. I recognize when I've had too much social stimulation and know how to remedy that. Now, if I could only figure out how to handle unfamiliar social situations or casual conversation!
