Monday, June 17, 2013

Book #37: Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking by Susan Cain

When I was around the age of 9, I did two things for fun. I would read, and I would go kick the soccer ball into the backstop across the street and tell myself stories as I did it. I did both of those things for hours and hours and HOURS on end, and I never got tired of it.

When I was in school, I hated groupwork with a passion. I didn't have a birthday party the entire time I was in high school. I hated the whole dating game SO MUCH, and first dates were pretty much torture. When I found out about the whole business school ethos of networking, I instantly knew that I never, ever, ever wanted to get an MBA and have to schmooze with anyone, ever. (It seriously sounds like worse than having to go get a PhD.) In every workplace I've ever been in (temping, internships, grad school cubicles), it takes months or even years for me to get to know the people around me.

Now, I still love to read. I also hate small talk, but I love talking about "deep" things that are important to me--I feel so happy and connected with people after those conversations. I am surprisingly happy staying at home and not seeing anyone else all day long (although that changes depending on Dane's whininess). 90% of the time, Tommy and I will spend time together playing Boggle, doing crosswords, or curling up and watching a movie together. I fluctuate between feeling guilty that we don't do enough social things with other people and feeling guilty that we aren't best friends with everyone we know. I often let calls go to voicemail, not for any specific reason but more because I often feel like I need to be in the right mental spot to talk to someone over the phone. I have a horror of awkwardness. None of this is to say that I'm antisocial or anything, but I don't thrive on all social interactions.

Guess what? I'm an introvert. After all of these facts about myself, you'd think it would have been obvious before reading this book, but I had honestly never thought about myself in that way. One major reason is because of our culture's fascination with the Extrovert Ideal, as Cain puts it--we value extroverts far more than introverts and push employees, students, kids, and friends to be more extroverted so that most everyone learns how to act like an extrovert, no matter how much they don't like it. Introverts tend to feel guilty (like me) or wonder if there's something wrong with them when they don't enjoy large dinner parties or networking events or when they feel exhausted after giving a presentation at work. But Cain's whole point is that there's nothing WRONG with being introverted--there's actually a lot of value in introversion that our culture is missing out on by forcing everyone to act and work like decisive and talkative extroverts. It's okay to be introverted! There are times when it's important to use extroverted skills (like when teaching Relief Society, for me) but it's even more important to be aware of where your natural preferences and skills lie and to know how to recharge your batteries and interact with the introverts and extroverts around you. (Luckily for us, Tommy's an ambivert--according to a self-test in the introduction to the book, and yes, that is a real word!--so we don't have any real conflict over how we want to spend time together. He's just as happy reading in bed together as I am.)

I really liked this book. I think Cain did an excellent job of incorporating scientific studies and real-world experiences into her points in the book, and the final chapter included specific tips for dealing with children or students who are introverts (for parents and teachers), which I think is a fantastic resource. But mostly, I liked it because it gave me so much to think about--and it really helps me to legitimate my desires and my interests. I like hanging out with people, but it's okay if I don't love big events with lots of people and if I want to leave early. And it's okay if we spend almost all of our evenings doing nothing exciting. It's just some cultural expectations that make us feel that way.

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