I’m an Extrovert Trapped by Social Anxiety
For years, I convinced myself I was an introvert. I was wrong.
Until very recently, if anyone had asked me if I was an introvert, I would have given them an unqualified “Yes.”
I wouldn’t even pause and think about it. It seemed so obvious me to me that I was.
When I took a tally of myself, I seemed to squarely fit into the introvert mold.
I’m extremely shy.
Being around other people makes me nervous.
I’m very quiet around others. I barely make a peep around a person I’m not already intimately familiar with.
I avoid social gatherings and events like I had a Final Destination-style vision that something was going to go down at them.
If I’m cornered or roped into small talk, I come out of it feeling worn out and exhausted.
And isn’t that what an introvert is, deep down? Someone who feels drained from too much social interaction and energized from their alone time (or time spent with someone they’re close to).
Where’s the Comfort and Fulfillment?
By all accounts, I’m an introversion success story.
