I'm not an outgoing person by nature. That's not to say I'm antisocial; I just prefer more intimate settings than loud, busy gatherings. I came across this comic a while back where the artist described herself as sitting in the kitchen making friends with the household cat while the party carried on in the other room. It made me laugh in a slightly self-conscious manner. I was as amused at how well I relate as I was the comic itself.
For the longest time I was content with being an introvert. I observed at social events but rarely participated. Wallflower was my comfort zone. I saw no reason to leave it because most people didn't have anything in common with me anyway and introversion was an easy way to avoid awkward small talk.
Eventually I realized I had it backwards. It wasn't that I withdrew because society had nothing to offer me; it was because I felt I had nothing to offer back. Why should I open myself up to a stranger's critique and criticism over nothing of import?
A few years ago I attended South Dakota's annual Technology & Innovation in Education, an ed tech conference and expo that brings educators, presenters, and vendors together for three days of breakout sessions and cool gadget freebies (let's be honest here, the freebies are why we show up). As a ten-year IT veteran, it's sometimes a struggle to find a breakout that is more on the technical side, so I occasionally end up sitting in on a session because it interests me personally.
I couldn't begin to tell you the speaker's name or the title of this specific session, but I do remember him emphasizing how important it was to have a public presence in our current age of technology. This was a novel thought for me. I had been of the opinion that privacy was a default state of being, and being available to the public was reserved for those wealthy enough to afford a PR agent. In my mind, no one could be both social and genuine; the stress alone would kill you.
In March or April I started watching a cult show with a dedicated, loyal fandom. I won't go into details on the show itself here, but I was impressed with how open the cast is towards their fans. They are active on social media, interact with the public at conventions, and go out of their way to reach out to followers who are struggling in various ways. For the most part, that respect is returned by the fans who are as likely as not to chide one another if they feel a member of the "family" has stepped out of line and imposed on a cast member's privacy.
Recently one of the actors was involved in an act of violence that resulted in him being hurt enough to warrant a trip to the hospital to treat minor injuries. The instant outpouring of love and concern for someone most of these people only know on screen was incredible. It was awe-inspiring. And to me, it was also slightly terrifying.
It had me reflecting on the risks these actors have taken on in opening up their internal lives as much as they do. These are intelligent people; I'm sure they've weighed the pros and cons. And yet they have done so much for others through their willingness to sacrifice a measure of privacy; in some cases, a significant measure.
It finally came together for me. I'm not here to absorb what the world has to offer while I sit quietly in the corner making the acquaintance of a house pet. There's give and take, but even more than that, I'm worth something to others. I have something to give. I can learn to open up, and actually do so authentically, to those around me because I have something to say that they want to hear.
I discovered I'm not actually an introvert; at least not in the classic definition. I began to put myself in social situations where I knew my boundaries would be tested. And every time, the payout has been incredible. And awe-inspiring. And also slightly terrifying.
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