We want less—and more: less talk, more understanding. The ultimate question of a capitalist, "What do you do?" keeps conversation focused on activity rather than on motivation and personhood. If you hate your job, the conversation will have little to do with you. You'll tell the inquisitor what you do, he'll ask more about it, and the conversation will move further and further away from what you value. When I lived in Minnesota, I was known as a psychologist, a smart professional who listened to people. What people did not know about me was that I was also an actor, a slow reader, a theologian who once considered the ministry, that I had a secret wish to go to Paris and study under a chef like Audrey Hepburn did in Sabrina, that I was tired of classical music because I heard it so much as a child, that I feared abandonment, that I still found excitement in the bright-colored stories of Betty and Veronica of the Archie comics.
Whew! Once an introvert gets going...anyway, when we moved and I left behind my practice, I happily entered a place where I had no identity. I puzzled about how to answer the dreaded question, "What do you do?" I could have easily said that I was a psychologist and then get the standard response, "So, you must be analyzing me." Instead, I decided to just tell the person what I was into that particular day. Some days, I was a general contractor for the crew building our house. Others, I was writing about Eve. Some days, I lingered in my favorite shops. Most days were a mix of a lot of things.
We are all a mix of a lot of things, but conversation generally reduces us. So how do we get to the more inside? I started to answer this by writing out some alternative conversation starters—an extroverted method. But I caught myself, as I do more readily now. For introverts, relationships begin inside.
Let's use the desire-based method we discussed in Chapter 7. Whether you are looking for a friend, love interest, or small community, imagine having exactly what you wish for. Get as specific as possible. These questions may help:
• Where are you? What setting are you in?
• Are you involved in an activity or just hanging out?
• Are you involved in an activity
• How do you communicate?
• What do you appreciate about this friend or friends?
• What do you appreciate about this friend or
• What are you learning from the friend(s)?
• What does this friend(s) appreciate about you?
• What feelings do you have when you are together?
• What feelings do you have when you are
• What can you share with this person?
• What passions or interests do you have in common?
• What are your deal-breakers? What characteristics are not acceptable in the friend(s) you choose?
As you build your personal ideal, notice people around you. Play detective and observe what appeals to you and what turns you off. Make note of relationships you witness directly or in stories—film, literature—that you'd like to have in your life. What is the potent ingredient in these intimate connections? I still remember watching the movie Beaches when it came out in 1988, and wishing for the kind of friendship the two female characters shared. But what it was, specifically, that I envied, was the fact that the two women mattered enough to each other that they could fight and feel hurt and run away and come back. I had played it safe in relationships.
Some of my colleagues might argue that it's a bad idea to promote fantasy—that wishful thinking can lead to hurt and disappointment. I would agree that hurt and disappointment are quite possible when we seek out what we want, though I also find that people who keep seeking generally find. But I think that the concern about fantasy is based in the extroversion assumption—the idea that we should just get out there and meet people. This kind of advice is so woven into our thinking that we don't question it. Introverts are not oriented that way. "Meeting," in the introductions-and-small-talk sense, is not our thing. Incubating the desire is our thing, and it works: we get clear about what we want, excited about getting it, and smart about our strategies. Good incubators are often the ones who seem lucky—they happen to be in the right place at the right time. Because the internal activity is not visible to others, the good fortune seems effortless. And, in a way, it is.
Yes, wishful thinking may result in disappointment. But, if you're an introvert, putting what's out there before what's inside is a formula for disappointment: your best stuff stays inside, your energy runs out after the initial introductions, you limit your options, you get discouraged, and, all the while, you're not having fun.
But do introverts expect too much? Might we drive someone away with our intensity? True, those of us seeking deeper connection can be intimidating to those who prefer meeting and moving on. Note that, when I say deeper, this not only refers to psychological or emotional depth. Deeper is what we think about in our private experience, whether we contemplate relationships or why the Cubs' Mark DeRosa swung at ball four with the bases loaded in a playoff game. In one of my books on psychotherapy, intimacy was defined as closeness to another person's thinking. As with the mind meld, the therapist attempts to get as close as possible to the meaning things hold to the client. In the consulting room, however, this process goes in only one direction. In the relationships we choose, two minds—or hearts or spirits—are trying to know and be known by each other.
So what is it inside you that you want known? What kind of inner life are you looking for in someone else? Whatever that is, the introvert wants to get to it.
Whatever it is, go to it.
My friend Christopher and I once discussed world religions. Both of us expressed our confusion over their structure and people's willingness to follow. Our conversation ventured deep into the heart of Catholicism, Buddhism, Islam, and several other dominating religions that we felt were insane to follow completely by the rules. It ended up with me emailing several churches and temples to find an answer, and I found most of their responses to be quite inspiring. Our conversations have also ventured into the theory of evolution, world government, life on other planets, and carbon-based matter. We tend to think deeply.
—Solveig, age fifteen
INTIMACY THROUGH IDEAS
If you dislike parties, do you really want to meet partiers? If you don't drink, do you want to spend your evening at a bar? We know the answer ("no"), yet parties and bars are often suggested for people looking to meet someone new—especially a romantic somebody. It seems a simple, but often-overlooked alternative, to seek out the minds that interest us.
If your mind is a notebook, writing as you go, take a writing course or join a writers' group. If science is your thing, attend a lecture series sponsored by a local college and hang out for the Q and A sessions: create the conditions for a meeting of minds. Volunteers are needed everywhere, for environmental projects, research, the arts—you name it. Investing in a cause you care about puts the idea first and the social aspect second. If you'd rather just share the silence, join a meditation circle.
But your search is likely to be more refined than that. Sure, you may want to meet a writer, but not just any writer. You also want someone who shares the values most important to you. And it would be nice if that person enjoyed a form of entertainment you enjoy. And so on.
This is one of the beauties of online profiles. All of the above can be included, and more. Online friends networks and dating sites, like the coffeehouse, are responding to the needs of introverts. We can write, not talk. We can get to the good stuff, and we can press delete as needed.
Whether you meet someone online or live, you'll find a better match if you give room to your desire, and you clarify what you want.
This requires a huge shift away from our proximity-oriented, "love the one you're with" thinking. For extroverts, who enjoy associating, getting to know a lot of people is not a problem—in fact, it's part of the fun. For introverts, who have limited energy for interaction, we need to be more thoughtful and deliberate about whom we meet—which, happily, is what we do best.
But "going for it" is risky. When we acknowledge what we want and apply energy toward it, we face the possibility of disappointment and loss. When I moved from Minnesota to West Virginia, I had my soul mate with me, but I was hungry for some new female friends, a need I had neglected in the past. I experienced my share of disappointment and loss: the extrovert friend(s) who repeatedly brought someone else along to lunch (the more the merrier, and the less intimate) and the introvert friend(s) who didn't have energy for another relationship. But, looking back, these were proximity friends.
No surprise to me now, I met "my people" at a class on memoir writing. I signed up primarily because I'd heard good things about the class and the topic interested me. Again, in retrospect, it makes sense to me that we often meet "the one" when we aren't looking, but are just engaged in what we love. But I didn't meet just one. I recognized one as a columnist I admired. We talked after class—I am bold when it comes to applauding another person's writing—and it was love at first sight. Cindy and I shared the same vision: I was authoring my first book, a desire she also held, and she had a column, something that was part of my vision. We shared an idea, not in a competitive way, but in a reverent sort of way. Since then, Cindy has launched her first book and I secured a column.
The instructor wanted to foster family feelings among us, and scheduled readings at peoples' houses. Sharing our writing gave us that immediate access introverts crave. At one of the parties, I met another woman, a warm, easygoing introvert. Something had felt familiar about her all along, as if we had grown up in the same family. I trusted her, and my trust was well-founded. Though our lifestyles were quite different, we shared a deep commitment to our values and a hunger for truth. Beth is my best friend—and so is Cindy.
During that class, a few of us gravitated together and eventually formed a writers' group. That was about seven years ago. Now we have a name, The Writers' Village, and we are writing a book together—a book that brings a piece of each one of us into a mind meld.
I'm very loyal to my friends, but I don't have tons of people I consider friends. I hang out with a lot of people, but a good friendship is not something that happens very often. The people I'm close with I would do anything for. I value honesty.
—Ben, musician and producer
STICKING IT OUT
Whether you are looking for your people or your person, accept that you may strike out a few times before you hit a home run. It's not easy to lose a relationship that seemed right at first. In fact, it's one of the hardest experiences in life. But unless you allow some relationships to be wrong, you are unlikely to get to the one or ones that are right.
Whatever kind of introvert you are, some people will find you "too much" in some ways and "not enough" in others. You may be considered too intense or not enough into socializing. And when you are seen this way, it hurts. And you question yourself. That's normal.
But it's crucial that you also see the other side of the equation. When you look back on someone who has disappointed you or left you, he was probably "too much" in some ways and "not enough" in others. Maybe he was too much into partying and not enough into closeness. The signs were there all along, but you didn't want to see them, or perhaps they were covered over by the hopes you both had at first. Or perhaps the person came into your life for a reason, and the two of you helped each other through something.
To sharpen your relationship awareness, grab a sheet of paper and a pen. Along the left side, make a list of your past relationships that didn't work. Across the top, list the headings, "Not Enough," "Too Much," and "Gift." Then, for each person, note what was not enough for you, what was too much for you, and a gift you received from that person. If the loss is fresh, feel free to leave the "Gift" column empty—especially if you're still angry and grieving.
As you look over your list, you'll probably see some patterns. Do you tend to draw people who are consistently unable to give you what you need? Or, perhaps you attract people who give you a lot of what you don't need. When you start to become conscious of these patterns, ask for honest feedback from someone you trust, or give yourself the gift of a therapist. By investing the time to figure it out, you'll save yourself time in trial-and-error relationships.
Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.
—Albert Einstein, physicist and novel thinker
Comfort in relationships is key for introverts, so time is an important factor in existing relationships as well. Sometimes it just takes a certain amount of hanging out together before we feel safe enough to disclose the good stuff. That's why family relationships can be extremely important to introverts. Siblings already share a history, so a lot of groundwork has been taken care of. A partner or spouse can become a safe haven of intimacy in an overstimulating world. Introverts also benefit from knowing others are in it for the long haul. My two sisters closest in age and my husband are the people with whom I have risked the most honesty, and they with me. We know we're not going anywhere and that our closeness is the ultimate goal.
GOING DEEP
So here's where we talk about conversations, because you'll probably have one at some point. If you want a book on icebreakers, this is not it. Icebreakers are usually just silence breakers, and they're usually designed to initiate talk at social events. They can be extremely useful for those purposes, but those are not the purposes we are talking about. Here are some thoughts on how to "go deep" with people you find through your introvert channels:
Don't... Introduce topics that bore you—i.e., "Where do you work?"
Ask questions that can be answered with "fine"—i.e., "How are you?"
Do... Ask questions you don't know the answer to—i.e., "When did you first know you wanted to teach?"
Ask for personal definitions—i.e., "Help me understand. When you say the film was 'dark,' what does that mean to you?"
Observe. Notice how it's going. Allow silence. Don't try too hard.
Being authentically introverted in relationships may feel weird at first. That's because, in our society, we equate relating with being extroverted. In the next section, we move into the spaces we share with extroverts, and practice staying where we are.
Part III:
Standing Still in a
Loud World
Chapter 11:
The Conversation Conundrum
The difficulty with this conversation is that it's very different from most of the ones I've had of late. Which, as I explained, have mostly been with trees.
—Douglas Adams
Many introverts find great companions in pets—and trees—because they don't talk. When I walk my dog, I can tell her everything on my mind, and she doesn't interrupt; she doesn't top it with a story of her own—she just walks with me. Ah, if people were only so easy. There is probably no area of greater conflict for an introvert than in the arena of social conversation. That is, if there are extroverts involved. Here's an example:
Extrovert: How is your day going?
Introvert: (taking the question in, thinking)
Extrovert: I have had the craziest day...
Introvert: Yeah? (distracted from thinking)
Extrovert: Yeah, it all started this morning when... (continues for five minutes or so)...So you're doing well then?
Introvert: Yeah. Oh, I gotta get going. See ya!
While the introvert is reflecting on the question (thinking first), the extrovert takes this as an invitation to fill the void (talking first). As long as the introvert doesn't interrupt, the extrovert continues to fill the interpersonal space with talk. But as long as the extrovert talks, the introvert can't think and stays mute. Mute means the invitation is still open, and continued talk assures that the introvert remains mute. By the time the extrovert pauses to ask, the introvert's head is pounding and he or she just wants to get out so she can think. The extrovert just assumes the introvert had nothing to say, and moves on.
Not all extroverts converse this
way, of course. In her book, Intimacy and Solitude, Stephanie Dowrick refers to these "needy, talkative, self-absorbed, and unself consciously intrusive" people as "exhausters." Emotionally sensitive introverts tend to attract exhausters, or as I call them "extreme talkers." When I work with extreme talkers in therapy, I give them feedback that if they block me out, they aren't likely to get much help from me. They invariably respond with the request, "Please interrupt me." Though this is not my preferred approach, I have found that they do accept my interruptions and pay attention. And there really is no other way in; these talkers have the uncanny ability to keep pauses just short enough to block any possible response.
Whether I cut in or not, I have learned to keep my mind about me amid the talk. I'll share some tricks of the trade later in this chapter. But outside of my office, I rarely interrupt, and I avoid conversations that require me to do so. Emotionally needy people need therapy, and emotionally healthy introverts need to avoid oppressive conversations. This may sound crass, but I make a clear distinction here. For introverts, extreme talk is not cheap at all—it takes a huge toll on us. Besides, our listening doesn't really help the talker! If the talker makes his way into therapy, however, the annoying excess—the part that is caught up in something, refusing to move on—is welcome and becomes the focus of treatment. We all have excess, and even the most reserved introverts can become extreme talkers in therapy. Some are so relieved to finally have airtime that they rush to get everything in while there's time. In Ovid's myth, Narcissus keeps looking at himself in the reflection of the pond because he does not yet know himself; therapy facilitates this self-knowledge.
If you get trapped in a conversation with an extreme talker, by all means, cut in—then cut out. Keep in mind that the talker may actually expect this, since he or she gives you no other alternative. Once you exhaust your polite efforts, cut in, say a quick "Gotta go—bye!" and cut out—just walk away. Don't look back. He or she is probably still talking.
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