Ambiversion and Self-Sabotage: Learnings From 3 Awkward Situations
What happens when you overestimate your social energy levels, and how to change the pattern
If your energy style places you in that strange space between introversion and extraversion, you are probably confusing the hell out of yourself regularly. You’re not alone.
According to my latest Myers-Briggs (and my internal compass), I am 10% more extroverted than I am introverted, which speaks preference while giving me the option to navigate both worlds without committing to either one — a true millennial dream.
But instead of preaching about the perks of being an ambivert, I’ll walk you through some of the charming ways I manage to self-sabotage.
You see, each of these sides often bites on a little more than it can chew. After observing my maladaptive habits for quite some time, I’ve extracted and laid out some personal learnings here to show you that:
- You’re allowed to feel like a broken pendulum on this continuum and
- There are ways to avoid getting caught up in your own personality sides' crossfire.
To dive in, here’s a poor drawing of my preference split:
Here are some examples of what this looks like in my day-to-day life.
Let’s do this! Are we done?
I am the social equivalent of a puggle. At some point, humans made the unfortunate decision to breed a Beagle and a Pug. The result: a dog with a massive appetite for running, sniffing, and exploring around paired with low energy and respiratory problems.
I have the social appetite of an extrovert and an introvert’s energy levels — because so much goes into the inner processing of my surroundings.
What I do: I jump into social activities, then lose my edge after an hour. I come across as someone who gets easily bored when I get overstimulated and need to re-charge. But because my extroverted side decided it’s time to party, the energy dip and visible apathy are common accessories.
What I’ve learned: If my energy levels drop, I respect my company enough to be transparent and let them know I need to cut the interaction short. I also carefully weigh in the costs of each “yes” I say to social activity.
Impact on my mood: 8/10. How often do I get this right? About half the time.
Quality time alone. But not quite alone, also not great quality.
Honoring the need to re-charge is probably the most important rule for introverts; terrible things happen if it’s ignored. An extreme example of this is my trip to Tuscany with some friends a few years ago when instead of taking alone-time for myself during the trip, I locked myself in the house for two weeks after getting back home. That was an extreme case of low energy that could have easily been prevented had I paid more attention to my cues.
Still, this piece is not about doing smart things, as it is about learning from the dumb ones.
What I do: I often skip social invitations because I need alone, quiet downtime — a great first step. Then I find myself chatting on the phone for 2 hours or engaging in Whatsapp group discussions about the Dutch healthcare system. And if you live in the Netherlands, you know these discussions tend to get long and fiery.
I don’t get quality social interaction nor downtime. I get a half-assed hybrid because my preferences are, like most of my default patterns, vague, shifty, and a little bit toxic.
What I’ve learned: If my initial need is for rest, I’ll probably want to resist getting hijacked by some superficial need for social stimulation. Step away from the phone. That’s it. Now chill.
Impact on my mood: 7/10. How often do I get this right? About 3/10 times.
Work meetings: my nemesis
Most of us know that the value of work meetings is neutral at best, but we somehow still go with the culture. It’s like that third drink in your 30s that you know for sure you’ll regret the next day.
Most work meetings are useless. Yet, just like that extra drink, we avoid facing the truth and put our best step forward, hoping it’ll be better this time.
Getting together to catch up with no structured agenda is my ultimate brain-drainer. I will show up in good faith, hoping that the gathering will put our collective energy to good use this time. Something actionable will come out, and everyone will have a sense of satisfaction and time well-spent. Right? Wrong. And I am part of the problem because I allow for my time and energy to go to waste.
What I (used to) do: I tend to say yes to many brain-drain meetings because I overestimate their potential value. And because I try to be nice, most of the time. Meetings culture is where an introvert’s energy goes to die. I am a half-breed, so I qualify.
I would sit through most meetings quietly, while one part of me felt sorry for having accepted to be there, and another part of me would simmer with pressure while my inner dialogue goes:
“Say something smart. Do it. Please, Speak. Speak now.”
Warming up to speak is like foreplay for my brain. It needs to feel natural. I don’t feel comfortable doing it because it’s expected. I’m not particularly eager to say something unless it adds value, and this goes back to the fact that, in most cases, the meeting's value escapes me.
What I’ve learned: There’s a decline button coming with meeting every invite. It’s clickable, and it does wonders for my energy level. I learned how to respectfully decline meetings that lack a clear agenda while showing up in good faith and well-prepared to those that do include one.
Impact on my mood: 10/10. How often do I get this right? About 70% of the time.
One thing I know for sure is I don’t want to remember, on my deathbed, that all those meetings could have really been e-mails.
Thank you for reading.
