How do you people?

Grappling with (embracing?) my introversion

Hello (again, if you’re returning!) 👋🏾 I’m Ingrid and I publish Permission. I share words about my world as a grieving woman, in middle age, as a mother of boys, as an Australian living in The Netherlands, and all the nuance (and mess) that goes along with these. To know more you are welcome to check out my About page, and to read more you are welcome to check out Permission.

Last week my husband went to Barcelona for a work conference. We spoke on the phone at the end of the first day. At the time of our call, he had been awake for almost 20 hours due to an early flight leading straight into the all-day conference followed by the Spanish tradition of a long late dinner. He was exhausted, as you would expect. But he was also energised. I could practically feel him buzzing through the phone. He had spent most of the day connecting with people, known and new, and there’s not much that fuels him more. I also like to say he could make friends with a tree because he’s naturally great at striking up conversations even with the quietest of people, building relationships, making people feel comfortable and seen. It’s one of his many gifts.

I am not like this. I am terrible in crowds and am often searching for a quiet corner / escape route / salvation. I get overwhelmed easily by noise, I am socially awkward, and I frequently say the wrong / weird / unacceptable thing. I don’t have enough fingers and toes to count the number of engagements I’ve rescheduled or cancelled because my inner battery was flat – the battery that allows me to be present, interested and engaged. To be what I’ve always perceived a normal person to be in social interactions.

Peopleing is not my strength.

I know peopleing is not a word, though it does exist in Urban Dictionary so it’s clearly not just me who needed a verb for this noun. And hopefully it goes without saying that I don’t at all dislike people. I love people, many people. I love meeting new people, I love connection, I love conversations about business and writing and parenting and travelling and feminism and the weather and whatever else sparks our shared interest. I especially love spending time with women, understanding their experiences and learning their world view.

I travelled to London on the weekend for a work-related event and a writing-related event. My frequent trips to London involve much peopleing, and this is one of the best things about going to London because the peopleing is with some of my favourite people in the world. I used to have a spreadsheet for my trips due to the volume and variety of catch ups:

• Breakfast

• Brunch

• Lunch

• Coffee

• Dinner

• Theatre

• Drinks

• Dancing

Even looking at that list makes me tired, and my inner battery screams in protest. I don’t know how or where the energy came from, or if I was just so disconnected from my inner workings that I didn’t clock the after-effects of so much peopleing.

This time, I limited myself to one peopleing-activity per day until Monday. I haven’t limited myself to one social activity per day since I had a toddler, but in hindsight perhaps my toddler had the right of it. Put all the energy, attention and focus into that one thing. Be present, be engaged, and then when it’s over, go home and recharge with a nap, a book, or both (why on earth did I stop doing this?! Sounds like a dream). And on the Monday, when I had two important peopleing events, I gave myself the gift of disconnection in between them; I returned to my silent hotel room and sat around in a bathrobe for two hours. I didn’t speak, I didn’t use my phone, I didn’t read or write. I simply sat and let my battery recharge from the quiet solitude.

Peopleing in action... first with my Sparkle Sisters at Frankie Tortora's Doing It For The Kids meetup, and then sparkling at sunset at Amy I Beeson's Writers Meetup in West London

I used to hide these aspects of my personality away because I didn’t see anyone else struggling in the same way I did. I’m not sure about the psychology of it, but I seemed to be attracted for my closest relationships to those with extroverted tendencies – my husband, my sister, my best friend, my work bestie, all extroverts. It may have been because we are drawn to people with traits we admire or wish we had. I definitely felt this way; I resented those introverted aspects of myself and wished forcefully to be different. I was frustrated by my inability to flourish in crowds, meet loads of new people and make lasting and favourable first impressions. I would look at the ease with which those around me spoke to new people comfortably and weren’t inhibited by thoughts of saying the wrong thing, asking the wrong questions, filling a silence with the wrong comment, or laughing at the wrong time. I would wonder why I didn’t have that same ease. I would wonder if I was broken.

Thankfully, I’m discovering more and more people who are built similarly to me. People who don’t thrive in crowded spaces and prefer instead smaller, more direct connections. People who have learned, as I’m learning, to embrace the way connection happens for us, instead of trying to force it in unnatural ways. I’m blooming the way I was designed to and not comparing my bloom to the blooms of the flowers around me. It's empowering, it’s liberating, and it also allows for stronger, sustainable connections with people who I actually want to know. What a revelation!

I would so love to know, how do you people? Have you always peopled in a way natural and comfortable to you? Or are you finding your way of peopleing is changing?