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My
experience of being introverted by
A PHOENIX FIREFLY
The Difficulty of Duality
When I hear the word "war" I picture a very different idea of the word than what other people would define. I picture the two bickering creatures, an Angel and Devil, perched on my shoulder, whispering attractive ideas into my naive ears, and then I find myself battling with myself on the decision these two little creatures want me to do. My decision, would it be for the benefit of the people around me? Will it be productive? Will it allow me to settle back and relax? Will my integrity be maintained?
Such internal conflict has become the standard each day, as I struggle to feel comfortable in my own skin as an INFP raised and encouraged to be an extrovert. I recall my mother telling me stories about when I was younger. My mother would hold me, and my arms would fall stiffly to my side as a tiny baby. My twin sister embraced anyone who held her, and my mother would look bewildered when she looked at my quiet form thinking "What is wrong with this child?"
What is wrong with me? Such a question was always in my mind growing up, since I first entered grade school. I was known to be quiet, intelligent. A bookish nerd was the standard comment. I was told by family and peers that I should be more social, outgoing, likable. This caused me to step back, and rethink how I did things. Wasn't I polite? Didn't I always listen, and lend an ear? I wasn't really that much of a troublemaker at school...so what was the problem?
I attempted to tackle this problem. Up until recently, I had tried to please everyone and still maintain my own system of values. At the present age of sixteen, I see myself asking the same questions I pondered over when I was nine.
I dumbed myself down. Living in an extroverted city such as New York is difficult as it is, I tried my best to avoid conflict. How? Put down the book, and engage in meaningless conversation. After pleasing my peers, and skipping the opportunity to be teased, I had felt guilty. Those two entities were at it again, bickering in my ear. "No, it was good that you put down that book. You should conform. Everyone else has to, everyone else is similiar. What makes you so different? So special?" the Devil hisses in my ear.
Well, I suppose that is true. After all, my close sibling, an older extroverted brother had told me that in order to function, I had to put down that Laura Ingalls Wilder novel, and go chat with the girls in the corner. It is good to socialize with a whole group of people. It shows alot about your charisma and how you functioned, so he said.
However, the quiet Angel, my value system, whispers calmly in my ear "Dreaming is a fantastic gift. You should feel no shame for doing what you love, regardless of what people think, yes?"
That is true too. What action could I use to avoid teasing, make my family happy?
I put that book away, and it was a while since I took it out again. I felt guilty for lying to myself, and felt guilty for not being like everyone else. For lying to them too about who I truly was, and what I wanted to do.
I still haven't recovered fully and returned to what I love to do. I still inwardly wince when I take out a book in school. The first time in...years, I sat at the end of the table in my Mediation class, with a book in my hand without embarassement or fear of being teased. The other Mediators, true, awfully loud extroverts were on the other side, chatting away. In this particular school, Mediators were chosen for being loud and outspoken, not for being intuitive and excellent listeners. I happily opened Phantom of the Opera, and engaged myself in its pages, blocking out all sounds until the Mediation teacher tapped me on the shoulder and said "Firefly, I really like it when students read, but you should close that book and be more sociable"
I was shattered. No, honestly, shattered. It had been years since I was able to read a book and not care, and now a teacher had told me it was the wrong thing to do. Stunned, and hurt, I snapped the book shut, and refused to meet the eyes of the Mediators who were silent, all looking at the table at me.
Was it really a wrong thing to be an introvert? Sure, I don't notice a mess, a phone ringing, or the time passing, but why does that make me different?
Why should we put up a false front, just to please other people? Now, the Angel is getting through. And, I have to bluntly say, Its about time. I am tired of lying to myself to please others. I am tired of denying myseld something I enjoy. I am tired of listening to others instead of myself.
I am tired of not being myself.
And I bring myself to that book I had pulled out in Mediation class. The Phantom had worn a mask to hide himself from society. It is time I shed my own mask, and be proud of my accomplishments, and dreams. To show a proud face to society, and most importantly, be proud of myself.
It is a gift to be born an introvert in a family of extroverts and realists.
I am an introvert, and at sixteen years old, I am awfully proud of it.
Now, If you will excuse me, I have some Victorian literature I want to lay my hands on.
A Phoenix Firefly
