Brenda Knowles

The Quiet Rise of Introverts


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       • Practice Two offers knowledge and tips to help calm our nervous system without feeling guilty. Introverts tend to have easily stimulated nervous systems. A challenge we often face is a feeling of selfishness if we spend too much time in self-care

       • Practice Three teaches the reader how to be true to himself or herself in the inner and outer world—how to confront our character weaknesses, develop self-discipline, and take action to express ourselves

      Practices four through eight take us outside of our comfort zone. They move us from self to self plus other, from independence to interdependence.

       • Practice Four helps us move past our belief that it is weak to need others. It is OK to rely on others, beneficial even

       • Practice Five shows us how to face and even embrace conflict. In this chapter, we see how pain teaches us about ourselves and confrontation sparks growth

       • Practice Six, like practice two, focuses on the nervous system, but practice six teaches us how to calm our partner’s nervous system rather than our own. We rise to the challenge of maintaining a high level of responsiveness within our relationship

       • Practice Seven moves us from interactions with our small circle of family and friends to the larger venue of community. We explore how to contribute to the world and cultivate purpose, without running out of energy

       • Lastly, Practice Eight is a lesson in lifelong maintenance and curiosity that leads to a balance of inner and outer worlds for the introvert. It is a practice of creating harmony with others without forgetting ourselves

      If you feel pulled between your need for solitude and other’s need for your presence and attention, this book will help you. You will gain understanding, insight, and applicable action steps by following the maturity process outlined within its pages. It is possible to be an introvert within healthy and secure relationships.

       SECTION I: DEPENDENCE

      Extroverts, Anxiety, and the Maturity Continuum

      The acclaimed Swiss psychiatrist, Carl Jung, first introduced the terms introvert and extravert in 1921 in his groundbreaking book, Psychological Types. Jung described extraversion and hence the extravert, as characterized by,

      “…interest in the external object, responsiveness, and a ready acceptance of external happenings, a desire to influence and be influenced by events, a need to join in and get “with it,” the capacity to endure bustle and noise of every kind, and actually find them enjoyable, constant attention to the surrounding world, the cultivation of friends and acquaintances, none too carefully selected.…

      The psychic life of this type of person is enacted, as it were, outside himself, in the environment. He lives in and through others; all self-communings give him the creeps.”

      In contrast, an introvert, according to Jung, was primarily focused on the inner world of the psyche. The introvert,

      “… holds aloof from external happenings, does not join in, has a distinct dislike of society as soon as he finds himself among too many people. In a large gathering he feels lonely and lost.… His own world is a safe harbour, a carefully tended and walled-in garden, closed to the public and prying eyes.… His relations with other people become warm only when safety is guaranteed, and when he can lay aside his defensive distrust. All too often he cannot, and consequently the number of friends and acquaintances is very restricted…His best work is done with his own resources, on his own initiative, and in his own way.”

      Jung did not consider the introvert a social loss. To him, introverts were not rejecting the world but instead seeking quietude where they could best make their contribution to the community.

      Susan Cain, author of Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking, points out that introverts and extroverts also differ in the amount of stimulation they prefer. Introverts work better with lower levels of stimulation. Their brains and nervous systems process sensory information differently. They are more sensitive to it.

      Although we may not think of people as stimuli, they are. Interactions with people are stimulating, particularly to introverts if they occur in a large group or with people who are not close companions.

      It should be noted that according to decades of Myers Briggs Type Indicator data, introversion and extroversion reside on a continuum within each of us. We all have introverted and extroverted tendencies, but usually one temperament is more natural or preferred.

      THE EXTROVERT IDEAL

      For several reasons, it is widely believed in Western cultures that life as an extrovert is better than life as an introvert.

      One of these reasons is the notion that gregarious personalities fare better when competing for jobs, friends, and mates. As mentioned by Susan Cain in Quiet, this line of thought gained momentum in the early twentieth century. At that time, the United States was moving from a rural agricultural economy and population to more urban industrial ways of living. People migrated from small farm towns to bigger cities in search of manufacturing jobs and steady paychecks.

      Among strangers in a new city, anonymity encouraged bold behavior. Your family’s reputation, as well as your own, were not known or on the line. The risk of running into your coworkers at church or the local store was smaller. Emboldened by anonymity and the need to stand out among the competition, people transformed themselves from soft-spoken farmers into confident speakers with solid eye contact. If they didn’t, there would be fewer employment opportunities and successes. They would not be positioned in upwardly mobile and well-thought-of social circles. They would not attract and secure the best or richest mate.

      SMALL RURAL COMFORT

      Much like those rural wallflowers prior to their move to the big cities, I experienced the bliss of living in a small, agriculturally based town in the middle of Michigan. My high school class numbered fewer than 250 students. My dad owned the local shoe store, and many of my friends’ parents grew up in this same small town. Everybody knew each other. My family and I lived “in the country” on a dirt road. It was quiet in our little house, nestled between a creek and fields that farmers rotated annually between soybeans and corn.

      The small school and community afforded us a sense of belonging without having to compete for everything. There were socioeconomic differences among the town’s people, but overall the playing field seemed level. Everyone played their parts and worked together to support the community.

      Hindsight tells me one reason for this cohesiveness: the fact that everyone knew where you lived, who you were related to and where you worked. Our proximity kept everyone in check. It was damn difficult to exist in anonymity. Harmony was the name of the game, and a sharing of resources kept things running smoothly. Granted, there were only a handful of stores for everyone to shop. Fewer resources could incite competition, but mostly it offered a chance to catch up with your neighbor if you ran into them at the bank or meat market. The experience was pleasant rather than frustrating. So many people lived in a small, quiet neighborhood or out in the rural areas (like I did) that we welcomed a chance run-in with someone we knew. We weren’t constantly burdened with crowds, traffic, long lines or job scarcity.

      I personally had a wonderful balance of quiet country living and active social experiences. At home in our small farmhouse, there was an absence of hustle and bustle. There was a cat or two stretched out on the porch, breezes rustling through the leaves of walnut and pear trees, little to no traffic on our dirt road, comforting aromas coming from the oven, and glorious solitude in my upstairs corner bedroom. When “in town” or at school activities, I could be found hanging out in the basement of my friends’ homes watching movies, sharing stories, or playing cards with anywhere from one to fifteen people. As teens, my friends and I spent a lot of time “cruising” in our cars looking for (and often finding) boys and parties. There were school functions like dances and football games too. I was never a big fan of group sleepovers, but I endured and even enjoyed