On Introversion

I have a distinct tendency towards introversion. I am introspective, content in solitude, comfortable in my own skin, standing quietly on the periphery of the madness and occasionally taking part. Perhaps it’s a protection mechanism, but then, if it is, it's just as much a protection mechanism as an extrovert’s need to be in the spotlight. I enjoy the company of others, but I prefer small groups. Crowds irritate me. I think they are stupid. People tend to lose their ability to think critically when they become part of a crowd. It's why I despise trends and I despise the act of prostituting oneself to corporations selling shit to other stupid people who don't need it. Bernays, LeBon, Lippmann and Co., they were all right about crowds, you know, and they taught the bosses and the politicians how to manipulate and coerce.

Many introverted people, it seems to me, tend to exhibit a deeper level of personal security than their extroverted counterparts. Or am I biased? In what I see as a world full of people with short-term relationship goals, introverts can perhaps find more meaningful relationships. And if they cannot or don't want to, they can find contentment in their own company. Extroverts seek fulfilment and purpose in the external, surface-level world; they need action, attention, and recognition, and so they continually chase it. Those with a tendency towards introversion, on the other hand, are more inclined to look inward and take pleasure in solitude. Extrinsic rewards matter less to them.

Now, not every inward-looking person fits this stereotype. We differ to varying degrees in the multitude of aspects of personality that seem to exist. We are multifaceted and complex organisms, comprising a blend of base material and numerous life experiences. Who knows precisely why you and I do what we do. The reasons–if they could be identified at all–are largely unbeknownst to us in everyday life. I'm not having a go at extroverted people, it should be said. Each of us is unique, valid, and necessary for the creation of this diverse world we see around us. It's just, introverts are better, ok. We're more reliable, stable, and trustworthy. I could refer to literature here, but I won't. I'm merely giving voice to what seems to be true for me.

I’ll read my books and I’ll drink coffee and I’ll listen to music, and I’ll bolt the door.

J.D. Salinger

Freud said we can trace the reasons for our behaviours, neuroses, and dysfunction, as well as regular, common personality traits, back to childhood, to an incident or incidents that sparked it off. I buy into that. There is a nurturing aspect to why I am the way I am, but I also believe there is a natural aspect to it. Beyond the personality that I seem to be, it sometimes feels like there's something else. Is it my imagination? At night, when I am alone, I can feel it especially. I feel a more profound sense of something. I don't need to put on a show for anyone, not even for those closest to me.

I reject the neuroscientific account of this experience as merely an epiphenomenon of the brain, and I reject the reductionist model of reality that suggests the universe is simply a binary system. Not least because these ideas are the product of brains studying brains, they are incomplete ideas of life by those who are ruled solely by forebrain logic. I reject these ideas because something is happening here where I am that transcends logic. It is equipped with feeling, insight, creativity, and self-awareness capable of self-contemplation. You don't know what it's like to be me, and I can't tell you. Language is insufficient. Science doesn't have a bog’s notion of how I came about. All the things we call things have no underlying support. There is no hook upon which the universe hangs.

A separate argument, perhaps, so I will leave that there for now.

Whatever influences aided in the construction of my surface-level personality, there were many, and they are complete. Complete, and cannot be revisited. In other words, I am what I am as a consequence of a non-linear interaction of variables I cannot possibly quantify. So, to reflect with regret, anger, or remorse for the childhood I should have had is useless and counterproductive to the continued formation of whatever I am. Momentum plays a role in what I may become, but the past’s influence will hopefully be minimal should I have anything consciously to do with it. Although, like Freud suggested, there are aspects of me that drive my behaviour, I have no conscious knowledge of. Momentum happens now, however, and I come out of that.

The quiet of the kitchen at night is my favourite place. When everyone is gone to bed, I am more myself than I am at any other time. I guess that’s a most disturbing contemplation for most extroverts. Because, to be alone with their thoughts, with no one else upon whom to reflect, it seems there is a cavernous void. There is nothing to hold on to–darkness, and a vacancy–little that can be called existence. I know myself because of you, and when you are not there, in the absence of that thing I call “myself”, what else is there? This is a fate worse than death for those who tend towards extroversion. For the introvert, on the other hand, for this introvert at least, there is everything that the world of things and people cannot provide.

People are wonderful, don't get me wrong, especially those closest to me. But even with them, I am not myself. I cannot be because I am diluted, or maybe it’s enhanced, I can’t always tell. I must be a composite of whatever they are and whatever I am. Where there is more than one, there can be a deeper alignment with a stereotype, as with a group, or a further disconnection. Regardless, I become less, yet in another way, I become more when I am with other people. Different is perhaps a better word. I am different when I'm with my sons than when I'm with my daughter. I am different when I'm with my Dad than when I'm with my wife. When I'm in a group of people I don't know, and when I'm with friends. Different versions emerge, but an essential aspect remains.

“I guess I´m too used to sitting in a small room and making words do a few things. I see enough of humanity at the racetracks, the supermarkets, gas stations, freeways, cafes, etc. This can´t be helped. But I feel like kicking myself in the ass when I go to gatherings, even if the drinks are free. It never works for me. I´ve got enough clay to play with. People empty me. I have to get away to refill. I´m what´s best for me, sitting here slouched, smoking a beedie and watching this screen flash the words”

— Charles Bukowski

When I was a kid, I enjoyed spending time on my own drawing and making stuff. Later, as a teenager, I’d spend hours sitting with my back against the headboard of my bed, staring out the window, thinking about girls I liked, smoking cigarettes and listening to music. I did the usual kid stuff too, like playing ball on the road with other kids, and exploring places we shouldn’t and that kind of thing. But it was the nature of my home environment that encouraged me to seek contentment in my own company. There was a time when I resented that upbringing, but these days, as I examine the world around me, I am grateful for it.

Introversion has its disadvantages, though, such as the lack of people in your vicinity when you need them. I've been there too. But on the whole, I see it as an aspect of personality that offers a distinct advantage over my extroverted counterparts. I can work alone and be content. I can dig deep and get difficult things done without seeking support. As such, introverts can become self-reliant. I can sustain severe conditions longer than most. I don’t need applause or recognition, although it’s nice when it comes. Praise is not a precondition to whether or not I undertake a thing, but I’ll take it, reluctantly, I might add, when it comes. It makes me uncomfortable, though.

Oh, now it seems that's just a little contradictory. I’m reminded of Freud’s coy note in the book, Interpretation of Dreams, regarding the absence of an apparently deserved university appointment;

“I am not, as far as I know, ambitious; I pursue my medical practice with gratifying success, even without the recommendation of a title. Besides, it was not a question of calling the garpes sweet or sour, for undoubtedly, they hung too high for me.”

It's not a case of either or. One is not better than the other, and regardless, it's a false dichotomy. There are varying degrees of both in everyone. But some of us do seem to have large portions of one or the other. I'll take introversion any day, and I'm not trading it in anytime soon.