Do you remember how, a few decades ago, being an introvert meant you were inferior?

At least if you were an American, that is. One of the most comforting insights of my early twenties was realizing that my personality, while not ideal by American standards, would be prized in cultures like Japan. “She’s quiet, likes to read and can sit alone for hours in a tree? She intuitively forest bathes?! We’ll take her!” As opposed to the US, where could-not-be-any-more-sensitive-pre-teen-Keely LOVED to hear things like, “The cat’s got this one’s tongue, huh?” “A real talker, that Keely.” Much appreciated, adults who like to comment on children’s personalities. But whatevs. It contributed to my alcoholism (liquid extroversion for my brain chemisty), which taught me about recovery principles, which opened the door to my life’s calling. So it all worked out. (Yes, Don, I am, in fact, still “nauseatingly optimistic.”)

Thankfully, good ol’ Susan Cain changed the introverted = inferior dynamic when she published “Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking” in 2012. Thanks Susan. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Truly, much appreciated.

After Quiet worked it’s way through the world, we all learned that extroverts are people who gain energy from socializing, like introverts are people who gain energy from alone time.

Then, the “let’s dig a bit more” amongst us also learned about ambiverts: people who switch between the two poles, introverted in some settings, extroverted in others.

Then, the “let’s really dig” amongst us also learned that, as we do personal development work and hone a meditation practice, calm our nervous systems and/or do things like neurofeedback, we naturally move to the middle of the spectrum. We become neither introverted nor extroverted, but we hover right in the middle. We put on our extroverted hat when the situation calls for it, then switch to our introverted one when the time is right. Back and forth we seamlessly flow.

But here’s where the conversation is today: no longer is the introvert/extrovert conversation dominated by a discussion of where you get your energy. “Oh, socializing fills your cup? Extrovert.” “Alone time does it for you? Introvert.”

Now, the discussion is about stimulation.

High-stimulation environments tend to short-wire introverts in a wildly unpleasant way, while they energize extroverts.

Noise, bright lights, lots of sounds, multiple things going on at once – they shut an introvert down, while they fuel an extrovert.

All of the same things from above still apply–ambiverts walk amongst us and most of us move to the center of the spectrum as we grow–but I find the shift interesting.

Mostly because of how overstimulated I was this morning, trying to write in a noisy hotel lobby. Way too much going on for me to be able to focus on the task at hand, given that writing, for me, requires a shift into the parasympathetic nervous system so that I can access flow state.

Later today, when Sam and I go to a comedy show, I’m going to thrive in a more stimulating environment, because the task at hand will be different.

I’m actually not all that sure why I’m musing about this, aside from really liking that how we handle stimulation is now driving the introvert/extrovert discussion. 

If you want to nerd out on the science, it apparently has to do with the D4DR gene, dopamine receptor sensitivity and the introverted brain’s preference for acetylcholine. I tried to summarize it, but neuroscience doesn’t really do it for me, so I stopped. 

Also, after I walked away from this musing to shower, I experienced the most glorious joy when I realized that writing about stimulation at the start of Thanksgiving week could not be more perfect. It wasn’t remotely conscious or planned, but feels pretty, “Thanks Universe,” to me.

For years, my mom would welcome people to her house by saying, “Feel free to hide out in any of the bedrooms if this crew gets to be too much for you. Keely does it all the time and it’s fully welcome in this house,” and I want to give her “way to human” points for that. 

If you happen to identify as an introvert and have big, together-y plans this week, it could be a fun time to play with this concept. If you find yourself getting drained, overstimulated, or otherwise out of sorts, maybe this concept will be helpful. It’s not necessarily that you need to retreat to a tree in the backyard for hours on end. But perhaps a part of the house where there’s a bit less going on will feel good to you. It’s really (to my current understanding) not at all about being around other people or not. It’s about what’s going on in the environment and compatibility amongst the people in the environment (as well as nervous system regulation–if your nervous system can’t relax in the presence of others, this isn’t about introversion/extraversion; there’s something else at play). 

But, should it just be about the ol’ I/E spectrum, maybe you and I will bond when we both sit in silence together, blissed out by being “alone together” (thank you, Michelle, for teaching me the joys of being alone together).

Happy Thanksgiving week!

P.S. I couldn’t find a good article summarizing the shift from how you get energy to how you handle stimulation. It’s something I’ve heard in bits and pieces from various podcasts, articles, conversations, etc. I think this article by Adam Grant is good and, while I don’t know this source or author, this explanation of the neuroscience behind it feels accessible.

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