Growing up, I was a shy kid. I cried a lot. I cried when I had to go to school. I cried at school. I cried. I cried. I cried. While at home, I was happy, it seemed that whenever I had to leave my mom’s side, I would be petrified and want to curl up in a ball, a giant ball with pig tails and cry.
I was shy. Everyone told me this. When people introduced me they always prefaced their introductions with, “Oh, she’s shy.” And I, while very shy, hated this. I hated being shy. I hated people thinking that I was shy and quiet and, thus, in need of their gentle care. Even though I likely did need their gentle care. But, anyways that’s not the point. The point is that growing up, shy kids are downgraded and outgoing kids are upgraded, or praised, or recognized most as the desirable kind of kid. Yeah. And since I was shy and deemed an introvert by my Sociology text book in college, I wanted to always pretend to be something else, or I wanted to pretend to be outgoing and the life of the party.
With age and maturity, I’ve become less shy. I am, in fact, very social. I enjoy laughing with others and talking and being around others. But, I am also very independent. I like being alone sometimes, on elevators, at the park, at the gym. I like it. I like being alone sometimes because it’s refreshing to me. Oh, and speaking of being alone, I once attended a movie alone. And it was the best movie experience I ever had. So, uh, yeah, how did I get here?
Introvert. Alone. Shy girl. Yeah, all those things are me sometimes, but not all the times. I’ve come to love that part of me along with my other side as special parts of me.
Are you an introvert or an extrovert? Or, a bit of both?