I was five years old when I realized that the world favors extroverts.
I remember overhearing a conversation between my mom and my friend’s mom. Expecting to hear some sort of reminiscing about childhood and how we reminded them of themselves, I was shocked to instead hear my friend’s mom say, “I like Hayley, but she doesn’t socialize like other kids do.”
I know my mom said something to defend me, but I tuned out her words. I was too focused on the “but” in the other mom’s sentence. While I vaguely understood that I wanted less playdates and more alone time than my peers, I didn’t know that anybody would interpret this trait negatively.
Despite this realization that the world favors extroverts, I was content for most of my early childhood spending time alone and avoiding birthday parties, because the other kids never teased me about it. It wasn’t until middle school that the loneliness really set in. At this point in time, the triangulation of the popularity hierarchy, dating, and “hanging out” without parental planning emerged. Although I enjoyed spending time with my close friends, I had no interest in climbing the social ladder; it felt like an unnecessary expenditure of energy to me. As I result, I endured a lot of the classic whispering, snickering, and bullying that haunts the unpopular kids in locker rooms and hallways.
Growing up as an introvert in an extroverted world has been the main source of my insecurity. I’d like to say that I’ve been able to get over it, but I haven’t. Even today, as a junior in college, I find myself comparing the number of hours I socialize to those of my peers, feeling like a failure if I’m not “up to par.” However, I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t gotten better. For the first time in my life, I’m able to feel secure in myself when I make the decision to stay in on a weekend and order food alone. I no longer feel like there’s something innately missing in my personality that makes me desire less social interaction than some of my peers. I do, of course, still worry sometimes that I’m missing out because of my introversion, but I’m growing to accept that my experiences are my own to create, and they don’t have to fit the stereotypical mold of a rich and fulfilling life.
I guess my whole point in writing this article is to show people that growing up as an introvert in an extroverted world can be painful, but it definitely gets easier. That’s not to say that the struggles ever cease to exist- even as I write these concluding lines, I’m fighting a desire to affirm to readers of this piece that I DO have friends and DO socialize, just not as much as my extroverted counterparts. I’m still scared of being known as the “friendless loser” because I actually enjoy spending time alone with my thoughts. But I am writing this piece, and that’s a step in the right direction. And I hope, if anything, it will give solace to other introverts out there dealing with the same insecurities. So, please, don’t hesitate to reach out or contact me if you’ve experienced anything similar—even if I respond virtually, from the cozy haven of my dorm room, I promise I’ll be thinking of you.