The world is run by extroverts. Talking, jostling, texting, laughing, space-invading extroverts. To those of us who are introverts and crave our personal space, it can often feel overwhelming.
I’ve spent most of my life defending my need for personal space. I’m not a touchy person. I don’t freely give out pats and hugs. I dislike crowds and loud noises, and the activities that many folks seem to look forward to on the weekends make me cringe and want to hide in a closet.
“Why,” a fellow introvert once asked me, “Am I always surrounded by extroverts?”
“Because,” I responded, “An introvert would never approach you.”
Often misunderstood as shy, introverts aren’t afraid to talk to strangers. . . they just don’t want to. An introvert refuels by being alone and reflective, sorting through thoughts and feelings, enjoying their personal space. Extroverts, on the other hand, have less need or desire for personal space. They prefer to be in the middle of a crowd, wheeling and dealing and making connections.
While everyone occasionally needs time alone to gather thoughts or take a breather, for an introvert, this is especially true. In my younger days, coworkers and friends would plead with me to go dancing or clubbing or bar hopping. When I politely refused, they couldn’t understand. The truth is, such activities are an enormous energy drain on those of us who take our personal space seriously.
At various times I’ve been referred to as understated, demure, shy, or “standoffish.” Some people mistake my need for personal space as snobbery, and feel threatened by my unwillingness to be a part of the crowd. “Aren’t you lonely?” they ask. And the answer is always, “No.” “You’re isolating,” is the accusation, to which my reply is, “Yes, and I like it that way.”
On the rare occasions I want to socialize, I do so, with a small group of especially close friends. I’ve never felt the need to collect friends the way some people collect stamps or beanie babies. For me, it’s very much quality over quantity. I’ve no patience with superficial relationships, and no desire to spend energy on relationships that drain me.
Perhaps because I grew up the eldest girl in a family of seven, my personal space is sacred to me, and I often don’t want to share it with people outside of my immediate family. I guard my space and my time, and that of my family, ferociously. The world is quick to deprive us of any and all time alone if we let it. People are quick to fill our calendars and ask for our time. I structure my life in such a way as to make sure that my family and I have the personal space we need.
