Learning I’m an Introvert Changed Everything

If you have read my bio then you know that I am an introvert. I am not sure if I have always been an introvert or not. I feel like in my high school and college days I was more outgoing and I socialized more often. I noticed after I had my kids and I started getting older the more I liked to be at home and not go out as much. I started to hate social settings especially with large crowds, they would exhaust me.

For a long time, I didn’t really know what was “off” about me when I was in social settings. I would always think how much I wanted to go home and be by myself. Everyone else seemed to thrive in loud rooms, make small talk look effortless, and somehow have energy after a full day of being around people. Meanwhile, I would leave social events feeling drained, and not just drained, but completely exhausted. I used to wonder: Why is it so easy for them and so draining for me? It wasn’t until I was well into my thirties that it finally clicked — I’m an introvert.

What is an introvert? In the simplest way that I can explain it, introverts recharge by spending time alone. It’s not that we dislike people (although, let’s be honest, some days I do). It’s just that socializing, especially in big groups, pulls energy from us rather than giving it back. I much prefer to spend most of my days at home doing quiet things, like writing! Extroverts, on the other hand, usually feel more energized the more people and interaction they get. Neither is better or worse. It is just that we all are wired differently.

Looking back at myself as I came to understand that I am an introvert, so many of my struggles suddenly made sense. Like why I dreaded big public events (like football games and kid’s school activities) with a pit in my stomach. Or why I could only handle parties for about two to three hours before feeling like I needed to quietly disappear and go home. Or why, after a busy and crazy week, I wanted nothing more than to hide under a blanket and avoid the world for an entire weekend. It wasn’t that I was broken or antisocial. It was just…me.

But for a long time, I was ashamed of it. I honestly thought something was wrong. I’d look at the people who seemed to sparkle in crowds, who could strike up conversations with random strangers like it was nothing, and feel this heavy ache of wishing I could be like them. I thought maybe if I just “tried harder” I’d become an extrovert by sheer willpower. Spoiler alert: that’s not how it works.

It’s funny to say now, but for years, I seriously thought being an extrovert was like winning the lottery of life. They had the confidence, the social circles, the endless momentum. Meanwhile, I felt like I was stuck behind this invisible wall, wondering what secret everyone else had that I didn’t. I wondered why I would shy away from people when I was in a large group and why I always kept to myself. I always had felt like people didn’t want to talk to me but I couldn’t figure out why.

And yet, when I finally accepted that I am an introvert, not something to fix, just something to understand, it was like I could finally breathe. Have you ever carried a heavy backpack for so long that you forgot you were even carrying it…until you finally set it down? That’s how it felt. I realized it’s not about “fixing” myself. It’s about living in a way that fits who I actually am. It is about using my introvertness as an advantage instead of trying to be someone I am not. It has been an amazing journey learning about myself over these last couple years.

Here’s something they don’t always tell you: forcing yourself into extrovert activities, especially one after another, can take a real toll. When I overbook my social calendar, I don’t just feel tired, I feel totally drained, sometimes even physically sick. For introverts (especially me), rest isn’t optional after a lot of stimulation. It’s necessary. It’s maintenance, something I have to do, like charging my phone. Until I realized I was an introvert, I thought I was just a lazy person because I needed to rest after getting home from social activities. When I learned why I was like that it made me feel much better about who I am and that I couldn’t help but resting, all because my body and mind needed it.

Of course, there’s plenty of common advice floating around about how introverts should “push themselves” or “get out of their comfort zones.” And sure, some nudging can be good sometimes. Growth happens when we stretch. But constantly pushing yourself to operate like an extrovert when you’re wired differently? I have moments of being more outgoing, but in my opinion you can’t make an introvert become an extrovert. That’s not growth. That’s burnout.

I have had to learn that what works better for me is being selective with my energy. I pick the events that really matter to me. I leave when I’m starting to feel drained, not when I’m already running on fumes. I schedule quiet time before and after big social things when I can. Before I wasn’t paying attention to what my mind and body were telling me when I was in social situations. Now I understand and I listen to what I need. It sounds simple, but for a long time, it never occurred to me that it was okay to build my life around what actually felt good, instead of what was “expected.”

Once I learned that I was an introvert I felt like I was able to live my life a little differently. It has taken me some time to learn about myself. I still feel like there is more that I can learn about being an introvert. I learn something new everyday. Now when I learn more about being an introvert I have “Aha” moments. It explains so much, and I feel like I am learning about my true self.

If I could go back and tell my younger self anything, it would be this: being an introvert isn’t something to be ashamed of. It’s a different way of moving through the world, and it’s absolutely okay. You don’t have to pretend to be louder, faster, or busier to belong. You already belong.

And honestly, once you stop spending all your energy trying to be something you’re not, you finally have some left over to become who you actually are.