Introverts enjoy being alone as an opportunity to recharge their batteries, to shake off the physical and psychological fatigue that comes after a strenuous, crowded day, and to find a little more of their own center again.
This distinguishes them from non-introverts, who quickly associate loneliness with loneliness and often find it difficult to endure silence. But loneliness only turns into loneliness when you connotate it negatively - it's a question of attitude, like so much else.
For me, being alone is a high form of happiness.
And then again this question: What is wrong with me?
So that we don't misunderstand each other at this point: Contrary to the above quote, as an introvert, I am always suffering from being the way I am. And I wonder what is so difficult about going through life so easily and openly and actively and interested and permanently communicating. And why I can't manage it - no matter how hard I try.
A progressive society - unfortunately it seems quite often - has little or no room for introverts. They take too long, they're not flexible enough, they don't make relevant contacts fast enough, and they seem to be somewhat solitary at all. In a world of teams, Skype conversations, start-ups and permanent stimulus overload, however, it seems that people are being sought who can communicate quickly and build (and drop) bonds that pulsate with the rhythm of time.
One has simply no time to dig deeper and usually also none for hesitations and emotional-strategic tactics. Ideally, batteries should not have to be laboriously recharged, but should always be ready for use. One hundred percent.
And also in the immediate environment (the one that doesn't know you any better) the behavior I show sometimes seems strange to exhilarating.
If it becomes too much for me in the middle of a beautiful evening, because I can't breathe anymore, I can't concentrate on the conversation, because my thoughts are capricious and my emotions are dancing salsa (no matter who is sitting opposite me now), I withdraw noticeably. And for someone who doesn't know me, it may seem as if I'm suddenly disinterested or have said or done something wrong. Neither one nor the other is the case.
It is simple and touching that I would like to grab my coat and pile out the door. Fresh air! Clear head!
But most of the time it doesn't work as I wanted it to and I feel like I'm living according to the conventions of social coexistence, which are felt to be much too rigid at this moment.
This probably has something to do with the fact that, like some introverts, I am also probably highly sensitive. A word I've only come across over the last year, which I've become more and more involved with, explains so much of myself (and what's behind it).
Most people use small talk to get warm with a stranger, and only when they feel comfortable do they get more seriously involved with each other. Highly sensitive people seem to be doing it the other way around.
Nevertheless, in such moments the judgment machine still begins to rattling in my head and whispers in my ear that I shouldn't get into such a fuss, at least pull myself together, what should people think.
The result: I try to stay socially compatible - and have the feeling that my smile is stapled on my face. All my attention is focused on saying the right thing, nodding at the right places and making appreciative/interested/astonished noises and not giving the most powerful impression that this is all too much for me again.
In such moments one can strongly question oneself.
Because sometimes you want the other person not to notice it. And you actually find the person you are talking to exciting - and you would also like to be considered exciting (or at most attentive) yourself. The effort involved in achieving one or perhaps both of these goals is sometimes disproportionate. And you can really nibble on that.
The way to get clear for yourself that you are quite okay and completely right as you are is a stony one - whether you are introverted and/or highly sensitive or not. That's no secret.
Nevertheless: Sometimes I wish things would run smoother and more smoothly - and I can't do much about my central administration in the brain regularly labeling me as a mimosa.
I think the best way to become friends with introversion and high sensitivity is (as with all things) to deal with it and accept what you have been given and actively use it for yourself and the others.
To see it as a gift, not as a stain to fight against.