You think this is rude? If you were being beaten on the head, would walking away be rude? For introverts, being "talked to death" is very much like being beaten on the head. Some of us end up with migraines, some of us get slimed by the anger spewed in our direction, and most of us feel drained of life energy. Talk can hurt us, and protecting ourselves from harm is not rude.
In contrast to extreme talkers, many extroverts strive for balance in the conversation, or even focus entirely on the introvert. These extroverts often ask direct and specific questions, moving the interaction along in a rhythmic fashion. The introvert, who prefers open-ended questions, may dutifully answer the extrovert—the path of least resistance—while becoming increasingly frustrated and bored. Though the extrovert may feel she's getting to know the introvert, the introvert can easily feel bypassed. Remember the tent analogy? The important activity is inside; the aide outside is answering the questions. By contrast, the extrovert's good stuff is right out where you can see it—so no wonder she assumes the same of the introvert.
My husband is one of these "inquisitive extroverts." By the end of a party, he has spoken to everyone there and seems to discover something interesting about each attendee. I recall one of these parties. We drove together—big mistake—and he was still enjoying the party well past my burnout point. Because the host was a friend of mine, I felt comfortable grabbing a book from her bookcase and plopping down in a cozy chair. Ironically, the book was Stephanie Dowrick's Intimacy and Solitude, a lovely book that kept me company until I was able to pry my escort away.
Inquisitive extroverts are easy to like and good at gathering information. My husband often updates me on my own family! But I've learned not to go to parent-teacher conferences with him. His interrogatory approach leaves me in the dust, and I either sit stupidly or fume until he catches my death stare and gives me some room.
Regardless of the intentions of the extrovert, the underlying dynamic remains:
• Extrovert outpaces Introvert.
• Introvert either tries and gets tired, or listens and gets tired.
• Extrovert fills the void.
• Introvert gives up, and looks for a way out of the conversation rather than a way in.
Add more people, and the introvert may not enter the conversation at all.
So how do we make an appearance in these conversations? Do we even want to? Let's look at our first example again, but we'll pry open some space for the introvert's feelings, and turn up the volume:
Extrovert: How are you?
Introvert: (taking the question in, thinking) Extrovert: I have had the craziest day... Introvert: Wait a minute! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? Don't fill the void. I LIKE the void! I need the void to make room for my thoughts. So if you really want to know how I am, leave the void alone until I come up with something. If you don't want to wait, that's cool—just find someone else to talk to. I'm really quite content to be alone.
Alternatively, in the ancient words of Lao-tzu, as translated by Stephen Mitchell, we might ask:
Do you have the patience to wait till your [my] mud settles and the water is clear?
Can you remain unmoving till the right action arises by itself?
—from the Tao Te Ching, or The Book of theWay
Waiting for the "right action"—or in this case the "right words"—is what introverts do naturally; but extroverts don't easily let the mud settle. They stir it up! So try as we may, our water does not become clear.
THE RISK OF PLAYING
There will always be those conversations that we just get through. Sometimes both parties are just being polite. But it is important to know that when we nod and allow extroverts to dominate we can pay a price. The extrovert ultimately loses too, but that's another book.
One problem with playing along is that, in the absence of talk, extroverts are easily able to project their own thoughts onto us. We know that we're not really present in the conversation, but the extrovert does not know this. To the extrovert, silence is just silence. The void is devoid. Or the void is agreement. Or the void is whatever the extrovert needs it to be—not because the extrovert is evil, but because he or she is oriented to external action. It just happens that the only action being recognized is the extrovert's. Let me provide some examples:
• A reporter asks, "So what are your thoughts on the situation?" As you think about it, he continues, "A lot of people are feeling this way..." You nod to indicate that you're listening. He quotes you as saying what he just told you "a lot of people" have been saying. This scenario actually happened to me. Even though I had eventually shared my own thoughts with the reporter, because I nodded and did not actively dispute his statement, he assumed and even quoted my agreement. I read his thoughts, attributed to me, in the newspaper the next day.
• Your extroverted partner talks with you about a problem the two of you need to address. You listen, not sure what your thoughts are on the matter. You may nod to indicate that you are listening. Because you don't say much, your partner assumes agreement, but you don't follow through on her expectations. Your partner is mad.
In these examples, the extrovert carries away potentially damaging assumptions about you. In one case, you are publicly misrepresented. In the other, a loved one sees you as neglectful or inadequate, or both.
Even though these responses may cause harm, the greatest harm occurs when we start to take on the beliefs of the extrovert. This happens very subtly, and we may not even realize what's happening. Though we think we're dismissing the extrovert by providing a patronizing response, we also dismiss ourselves. Let's consider the example of you and your partner: he or she brings a specific set of assumptions to the conversation. Your partner assumes something is wrong, and that he or she has a solution. Because you haven't had a chance to think about it, and it sounds pretty good, you go along with it. But then you find yourself, and your partner finds you, not following through on the solution. You and your partner both conclude that you are neglectful or inadequate, or both.
But, more likely, you haven't really bought in to your partner's way of thinking, and this is why you aren't following through. If you take your partner more seriously, and take yourself more seriously, you would need time to explore your own assumptions about the proposed solution. Once you do so, you may discover that you have a whole different take on the situation. You're not a bad person after all—you just have not entered the conversation!
But if you don't take the time to find your own truth and you conclude that you are just a bad person, the harm goes deep. You wonder why you're so negligent, so lazy, so thoughtless—actually, you haven't thought enough, you become alienated from yourself, and you're on your way to that self-hating syndrome called depression.
STOP! It is time to stop the conversation, stop the self-reproach, and start tuning in to what you think. When my own psychoanalysis gave me the time to tune in, I was struck by how much I had inadvertently agreed to. After one of my sessions, I wrote this poem, which I titled "I Will Decide":
You used to soak into my pores
you infiltrating, me accommodating.
I became your wants and needs
I became you.
I used to disappear into your opinions
My head nodding, my "uh-huh" echoing
You represented me.
Then I woke up
A neonate, but with a powerful cry,
"I am mine, and I will decide."
SLOWING IT DOWN
So how do we stop the action, or at least slow it down, so that we can let our mud settle and discover our thoughts?
The answer is simple, but challenging: Hold your ground. Notice that I didn't suggest you think of a witty retort: we suck at that. Holding is very different than responding. Holding your ground means doing whatever you need to do to stay centered. In this sense, it is a kind of meditation, a practice in stillness. For some of us, this means holding your head steady, resisting your tendency to nod and say "uh-huh." Let your f
ace show that you don't know yet.
Tune in to what you are feeling. Your head may trick you, but your gut is usually dead-on.
Holding your ground also means staying free of the pressure to entrain, to succumb to the spell of extrovert intensity.
Social skills training stresses the importance of eye contact, but limiting eye contact may be necessary when you need to unlock from the gaze of an intense extrovert.
Psychoanalytic therapists learn to maintain a position of neutrality so that the client remains free to express himself. For introverts, maintaining neutrality is a way to remain uncommitted until you have an opinion or response. This skill takes discipline. When someone is laughing and you don't find it funny, you don't laugh. When someone says, "You know what I mean?" and you don't know what she means, don't say "yeah." You don't even need to say "no," because the question is rhetorical. Doing nothing is amazingly powerful.
As you wait for your mud to settle, notice what's going on inside you. Turn up the volume on your internal voice. For a psychoanalytic therapist, the inner voice helps lead to insight about the client. For example, when I am bored by something the client is saying, that is an indicator to me that the client is stuck in a neurotic repetition—same story, different day. My boredom tells me that the client is avoiding something.
In the case of a casual conversation, your inner voice is for your use. Here's an example:
Extrovert: We need to talk.
Introvert: Silent. (Thinking: "Why?" "I don't feel a need to talk.")
Extrovert: We aren't spending enough time together.
Introvert: What do you have in mind? (shifting the discussion from "we" to "you"; getting more information) Extrovert: I want you to be around more.
Introvert: Silent. (Thinking: "Noooooooo! I don't get enough time to myself as it is!")
Extrovert: Why aren't you saying anything?
Introvert: (Honest) Because I'm thinking about what you're saying.
Extrovert: So what do you think?
Introvert: (Puzzled, internally-focused look) I'm thinking a lot of things (slowing it down).
Extrovert: (Impatient)Well?
Introvert: Let's see (slowing it down). I want to respond to you, but I'm also worried.
Extrovert: About WHAT?
Introvert: Silent. (Thinking: "Back off! Why are you so mad?")
Extrovert: (The silence amplifies the extrovert's overreac-tion.) Okay, sorry. Go on.
In the example, the introvert stays silent when the question requires a betrayal of self. The introvert also talks at the pace of his or her emerging thoughts and feelings. I am reminded of the game show, Who Wants to be a Millionaire? As contestants on the show search for the right answer, they are encouraged to talk through the process. By bringing the internal process out, they are better able to focus on their thoughts—rather than on external pressures like television cameras and the clock.
Introverts, you have a right to remain silent. You have a right to not know. You have a right to ask for more information. We'll talk more about caring for intimate relationships in Chapter 15, but remember that many conversations are optional, and that most conversations can be postponed until you feel more up to it. Here are some other tips for making space in conversations:
• Look down—or sideways or up—as a way of temporarily unlocking from the expectant gaze or flow of words directed at you. Show that you are thinking by furrowing your brow, scratching your head, or whatever body language comes most naturally to you.
• Work in a break. If someone asks a hard question, say, "That's a hard question. I want to sit with it a bit. Let me shoot you an email later." If you can't think of anything, say you need to hit the restroom. It's not a lie. You do need a rest!
• Pick your medium when you can. If someone says, "I'll give you a call" and you detest phone conversations, say "Could you email me instead? I'm harder to reach by phone." Even if you answer all your calls, this is not a lie: you are more defensive and harder to reach in a phone conversation.
• Give yourself a break. There will be days where you will forget all of this, or you'll just be too tired to try. Like meditation or physical exercise, this is a practice, not a test you either pass or fail.
• Give yourself second—and third, and more—chances. If you think you betrayed yourself in a conversation, and you will, you have the right to go back and edit what you said. My kids don't like when I do this and will protest, "But you said..." I just hold my ground and say, "Yes, I did say that. Now I'm saying this."
CONVERSATION PREPARATION
The most terrifying experience of my life, other than jumping out of a plane, was taking unscreened phone calls on a live television news show. The clock was ticking—it was a four-minute segment—and callers often asked questions that would take about a year or three of therapy to answer. Slowing things down was not an option. When I jumped out of a plane, I at least had a parachute to slow my fall!
There are some conversations that cannot be slowed down. A job interview needs to cover a lot of ground in a limited time frame, and media interviews barely give you time to introduce yourself. If your words aren't ready at a moment's notice, you may lose an important opportunity. Though quick responding is not the introvert's forte, you can nail these forums by preparing. Consider this: most authors (as well as many actors) who provide media interviews are introverts. The secret is to practice these conversations before you have them. Here's how:
• Find someone you feel comfortable with to play the interviewer. Have him or her shoot you questions, get stumped, fumble and flub, get over it, get it together, and get through it, over and over again.
• Take a break between each practice session and think about what you want to say. Jot down and memorize a few key points that you want to cover. Keep it as simple as possible: you just need some ideas to get the ball rolling. You'll be able to take it from there.
• Have your practice interviewer change his or her questions so that you get flexibility training.
• As you practice, ask for feedback or videotape your responses to see how you come off. Recall the metaphor of the general in the tent? If you tend to keep your genius of the general in the tent? If you tend to inside and send an aide to do the talking, you'll want to make sure that aide is well trained.
When I was sixteen or so, I had the dreaded session with the school's guidance counselor. I remember...answering her questions with my trademark short and quiet answers. After about five minutes of this she said to me, "Why don't you look me in the eye when you talk to me?" She really caught me off guard as no one had ever called me on that before. Frankly, I had never realized I did that. I have never forgotten that conversation. It seems obvious, I'm sure, to most people, but from that day on I started looking at people when I talked to them. It actually helped me...feel less alone.
—Ingrid, day job: internal auditor; passions: travel, reading, wildlife (to name a few)
Though some interview situations are high pressure by definition, we can often make formal conversations more introvert-friendly. Consider the following:
• With media interviews, indicate that you'd like to provide "talking points" or a list of questions to help the interview run smoothly. Most hosts appreciate this.
• Do your homework. Listen to the show, talk to the producer about what to expect, Google the people who are interviewing you for the job. Don't let your imagination run wild and scare you. Get the facts.
• Call the shots. I have asked interviewers to send me questions in advance, I have told newspaper reporters that I need to think on a question and get back to them, and I have said "no." You often have more power than you realize.
• Remember that you know more about you—your research, your qualifications, your opinions—than anyone else in the room.
Another pressured conversation that deserves mention is the doctor visit. Doctors, especially those working for an HMO, are characteristically rushed. How many times
have you had your head filled with questions for the doctor, only to come up blank when he or she asks, "Anything else?" The doctor is halfway out the door, you can't think, so you answer, "I guess not." Then, the minute you get home, a flood of questions comes back to you, and you want to kick yourself.
Or you've hired a lawyer or accountant, and you pay for your conversation, so short is indeed sweet. In these cases, it helps immensely to write down what you want to cover; tell the doctor (or lawyer or accountant) at the beginning of the appointment that you have a list. After all the school they've gone through, they know how to complete assignments, and the written word carries power. And professionals are concerned enough about their lawyer's fees to see to it that your list is attended to.
MUSIC TO OUR EARS
The conversations that are free of conundrums are the ones, usually with another introvert, in which there is plenty of time for the mud to settle, and for clarity to come. These are the conversations that lead to discovery—of self as well as the other. They happen with extroverts, too, but require more commitment and effort. The yin-yang conversation between opposites in love can generate amazing insight and growth—that is, if you can both stand it. We'll indulge in these more rewarding conversations in Chapter 15.
Chapter 12:
The Anti-Party Guide
At every party there are two kinds of people—those who want to go home and those who don't. The trouble is, they are usually married to each other.
—Ann Landers
If we wanted to sort introverts from extroverts without the help of the MBTI, we could just send everybody to a party and note what time each person leaves. A party is one activity that seems to polarize introverts and extroverts. Extroverts love them; introverts avoid them. Introverts may enjoy a party—for a little while—but will start looking to the exits long before the extroverts come up for air. And, even though more than half of the population would rather stay home with a book or a close friend, our society equates party with "fun! " Tell someone you don't particularly enjoy parties, and you might as well say, "I'm no fun."
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