‘Some of our greatest ideas, art, and inventions – from the theory of evolution to Van Gogh's sunflowers to the personal computer – came from quiet and cerebral people who knew how to tune in to their inner worlds and the treasures to be found there. Without introverts, the world would be devoid of Newton's theory of gravity, Einstein's theory of relativity, WB Yeats's The Second Coming, Chopin's nocturnes, Proust's In Search of Lost Time, Peter Pan, Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four, The Cat in the Hat, Charlie Brown, the films of Steven Spielberg, Google (co-founded by introvert Larry Page) and Harry Potter.’ – Susan Cain
Recently I watched a brilliantly insightful and interesting TED presentation by Susan Cain on why the world needs quiet people. In the video, she passionately defends introverts, arguing that they bring amazing talents and abilities to the world, and so should be encouraged and celebrated (personally, I couldn’t agree more). I definitely recommend you watch it.
She also talks about how, sometimes, introverts suppress their own nature in order to conform to the ‘norm’ or Extrovert Ideal by deliberately pushing themselves out of their comfort zones and facing their fears. Now, while this is a fantastic way to experience all that life has to offer and increase your confidence, too much of this could cause you to lose sight of who you really are. And that can only lead to unhappiness.
All this made me think about my own experiences. When I was small(er), I was quite shy and felt intimidated in group settings. I used to completely clam up when the teacher picked on me to answer a question. To this day, I instead relish one-on-one conversations with friends and love to listen to other people. Was there something wrong with me? No: that’s just who I was.
Then, something magic happened. I discovered books, and writing, and music and films; the things that make you think, laugh, cry and feel inspired in equal measure. And it gave me this strange kind of inner confidence. I immersed myself in fictional worlds and sympathised with people who were merely a figment of someone’s imagination, which taught me empathy. I learned that I could express myself much more easily through words on a page than speaking out loud. I discovered the electrifying buzz, that tingling shiver-down-the-spine feeling that music can give you, and the sense of accomplishment that you can get when you teach yourself to play something that, miraculously, sounds decent. I started doing (pretty lousy) impressions of characters from films, which was how I fell in love with acting. It made me feel alive: stepping into someone else’s shoes meant that I could strip back the shyness that had been holding me back, and slip into something more confident and free. Before approaching someone, I would pretend that I was role-playing someone who was self-assured and unafraid.
With the support of my amazing family and friends, I learned to internalise that feeling, and eventually I wasn’t acting anymore: I knew I had that confidence within me. The key was to be comfortable with just being myself. I mean, let’s face it, I’m never going to be the life and soul of the party, or a social butterfly – but to be honest with you, I’d rather have those few meaningful, authentic connections than a superficial mass of people who I can never get past small talk with.
What I’m essentially trying to say is: if you identify yourself as an introvert, don’t try to change yourself just to fit in with society’s expectations of the Extrovert Ideal. As much as the world needs outgoing people, the world equally needs people like you. By all means challenge yourself, and be outwardly confident when the situation calls for it, but most importantly be happy with who you are; hell, be proud of who you are. Go on. I dare you.
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