Coping mechanisms for introverts
Mar 14, 2008 The Story of My Life
I just had a happy playdate with 3/4 of the Turn Sharp family. If you read her blog you can tell that she is not an introvert, which made me think of this important coping mechanism.
One of the stresses I have as an introvert is a social anxiety that gets hung up on “Oh I can’t believe I said that! I am such an idiot! I should just go stick my head in a bucket and end my miserable life!” (Introverts are sometimes over-dramatic.) But here’s the thing: Other people don’t tend to notice what idiots we are.
Extroverts don’t notice because extroverts (I believe) are pretty forgiving. Lots of extroverts like people in general so they’re already predisposed to like you. They enter social situations happy to be there and to be socializing. They don’t have all that free-floating anxiety. They don’t fret beforehand about all the ways it might go wrong. So there’s a lot of give in socializing with an extrovert.
Other introverts are so anxious themselves that they’re not going to focus on your screw-ups (they’re too worried about their own). I had a meet-up with a clear introvert a few weeks ago and I could tell that anything I said/did was filtering through their defense system anyway so it seemed like a lot of the pressure was off me.
That’s kind of my point in my last post. It’s not that introversion is all in my head (I know I’m hard-wired that way) but a lot of the way it plays out is all in my head. My internal pep talks before social events are usually about this — that no one likes cold networking; that the extroverts will talk to me if I give them an opening; that the introverts are just as (if not more) tense than I am. It’s telling myself: My feelings are true but my interpretation of the situation may not be true. I will probably always feel a little wrecked after social events but I can stop the anxiety before and after by recognizing my wrecked feelings as feelings — not manifestations of disaster.
The other thing I’ve been thinking about is that a lot of this is skill and we can learn skills. I met two guys who both have this incredible ability to remember people’s names and details about their lives. I asked them both how they do it and they both said: HARD WORK. One of them said he actually took a class to learn the techniques. I was a little bummed out because I was hoping they would say, “Oh I was just born this way!” thereby letting me off the hook for not being able to remember anybody’s name ever.
If socializing well is a skill, I can get better at it. It’s like how special ed teachers work with kids who have a learning disability. They don’t try to cure the disability; they try to help students learn how to cope with that disability. Or how people will work with children who have autism to recognize other indicators of emotion since they have trouble recognizing facial expressions and tone. So I think, this may not come easy to me but it can come easier. The more I push myself, the more I can build coping mechanisms and eventually I won’t be as held back by this twitching left eyelid I’ve got going on.
Until then, it’s the chocolate and caffeine. Hey — these things take time.
March 14th, 2008 at 1:45 pm
When I started in my current job, I was so intimidated. I thought that everything that came out of my mouth sounded lame and I did have a few embarrassing moments. But then, I realized that everyone, no matter who they are, no matter how powerful, how experienced, how brilliant, everyone on some occasion sounds like a moron.
And since most people aren’t brilliant and powerful, and often only marginally experienced, lots of people sound really stupid all the time.
Another thing I taught myself to do is to talk slower. Instead of “um,” pause. Instead of speaking right away, pause, compose the first few words. Look thoughtful, stroke your chin, whatever. Anything to keep from blurting out the first thing that comes to mind because my problem is I can’t follow through - I turn into spazzo and say half a sentence that may have been smart, but since I couldn’t finish it, makes me sound like an idiot.
It’s working too. I had two occasions in the past week to speak on panels in front of people with a microphone in my face, and I think I sounded somewhat like I knew what I was talking about!
March 14th, 2008 at 1:45 pm
Finn is playing house presently
thank you for the fun xoxoxoxo
March 16th, 2008 at 3:25 am
I am so much like you. I’ve been catching up on your blog and there are so many posts I want to reply to - but I’m just going to do this one cause you remind me of myself so much. I’m encouraged by that to no end! If you can do it so can I.
March 16th, 2008 at 7:16 am
The social world of extroverts isn’t always forgiving. There’s an episode in my past that is burned into my memory for all time. Years ago, when I was in my early 20s, I dated a man who was 17 years older than me. Much of the time, I fake extroversion very well. But sometimes, when I’m tired, can’t summon the energy or maybe just don’t like the people I’m around or feel intimidated, I am quiet and withdrawn. That was the case at one small gathering of his friends. I was quiet, but must have appeared sullen or bored or aloof. At the end of the evening, one man said very pointedly, and in full hearing of everyone: “You know, you’d have a lot more friends if you were a little nicer.” (The last word is unclear in my memory, but you get the spirit of his comment. It might have been “nicer” or “friendlier” or something similar like “made an effort.”) Already feeling shy and out of my element, my heart raced, my face burned and I was tongue-tied. I murmured something about having plenty of friends, thanks. One woman — the host — jumped meekly, awkwardly, and with a bit of embarrassment, to my defence. The man I was dating — a confident, high-spirited extrovert if there ever was one — said nothing, as I recall. I always resented him for not speaking up and defending me. I wonder if it was his “duty” to say so, or not, but I felt so exposed, so hung out to dry, so deeply ashamed and embarrassed. I thought of all the biting comebacks later. It has always stayed with me — the reminder that sometimes my passive, bland, observing face looks unfriendly, unkind and unapproachable to the rest of the world.