I can’t remember exactly when I first heard the term “introvert”. It wasn’t a trending word when I was growing up. However, I do recall that it was used to describe our relatives who barely spoke and mostly kept to themselves. There was a negative feeling attached to it whenever they talked about introverts. I felt a mix of sadness and curiosity about these people. Sad because why was being quiet and private seen as a bad thing? And curious because I wanted to understand why so-called introverts behaved that way. I soon forgot about it altogether. At the time, I didn’t pay much attention to the concept of personality types. I had other things to think about and classifying myself in a spectrum was the least of my concerns. I didn’t know how introversion applied to me since I was a talkative kid (I talked because I had a lot of questions and opinions) and was always surrounded by people – even if it wasn’t my choosing.
Most people wouldn’t believe I am an introvert. They couldn’t imagine a world where I live and operate as an introvert because all they’ve ever seen is my public persona, the mask I put on whenever I’m around people. If you were to talk to my friends, teachers and classmates from grade school all the way to the university, they’d describe me as an energetic, talkative and spirited person. I learned how to put on an outgoing personality mainly because of my upbringing. I developed a knack for adapting in social situations to meet societal expectations. I worked my way through the discomfort and endured the awkwardness of it all.
I grew up in a rented house full of people. I didn’t have a sibling until I was six years old. It’s safe to say that I had the full attention of everyone that time. I was the baby and when my parents discovered that I could carry a tune, I became the family’s source of musical entertainment. At the age of 3, I didn’t just memorize my nursery rhymes but also knew the chorus part of the song Words and Music by Andy Gibb. (I wasn’t even born yet when it was released. I didn’t know the singer’s name and the song title until today – thanks Google.) Since then, singing has become a big part of my identity and I was expected to share my talent at various events.
My parents were proud of me and they always asked me to sing for them and for our house guests. I knew it would make my parents happy so I went along with it but deep inside I didn’t want to. The thought of singing before anyone made me uncomfortable. I said yes just to avoid scolding and punishment. If or when I say no, my Dad would tell me to stay in the bedroom and not come out until guests have left. Being banished from their sight for a few hours gave me temporary relief. I was sort of happy because I didn’t have to sing, but also sad and hurt that I was punished for having my own decision. I thought of different ways to avoid or escape every special event they hosted at home. I went outside, played with the neighbor’s kids, rode my bike and pretended that I was free from this predicament. This is why I don’t like parties and having guests. They made me miserable.
School life came with its own set of challenges. When I was 10 years old (grade 4 elementary level), the school principal got angry at me because I refused to sing in one of her monthly programs. Mind you, this was the first time I said no to her. I couldn’t remember my reason for saying no, I must have been tired, was having a sore throat, or was simply testing my teacher’s patience. I always got in trouble for having my own say in situations, I noticed. That same day I said I wasn’t ever going to sing again but I sang my heart out in that school from grade 1 to 6.
In high school, no one would ever suspect I was an introvert especially because I had a group of girl-friends to laugh and cry with (oh gosh, the drama of youth!) I also joined a sports team, signed up for student clubs, ran for a Student Council position and of course sang in a high school band. I did these things mostly for additional points on my report card. My academic standing would suffer if I didn’t engage in extra curricular activities. Never mind that I was doing well in all the subjects (except Math, the bane of my existence) I must do more, achieve more, become more. Why is our education system designed this way? It was also at this stage in my life when I fully realized that people don’t celebrate the shy, quiet, reserved personalities.
I do get shy every now and then but shy isn’t a word someone would use to describe me when I was a kid. However, I was full of hesitation and resistance as evidenced by my guts to say no. (I am still very much like this today.) I liked to think things many times over before jumping in, but often felt pressured to go ahead and do it anyway. Most of the things I did in my younger years were due to peer and societal pressure. My grandmother, bless her soul, witnessed my hesitation and resistance one time when I was requested to sing at a beauty pageant in the town where she lived. She must have thought I was being shy. She told me that I’m a smart girl and that I shouldn’t be shy because smartness and shyness don’t go together. Being smart will take you places while being shy will get you nowhere, she said. She was a teacher for many years and this was her way of encouraging me to show up in the world. She passed away recently and I didn’t get the chance to tell her that I’m not shy or that being shy doesn’t make someone inferior or less smart.
“What’s wrong with you?” was (and still is) the question people often ask when I refuse to sing, hang out or do anything that involved a group. During my teenage years, some relatives thought that my love for staying home was a problem to be solved. They said I lived a boring life because I never went to bars to drink on Fridays or the weekends. They said I spent too much time in my bedroom that I was slowly turning into a house rat. They said I was snobbish for declining party invites from neighbors. They said it was not nice of me to go home without waiting for others to get ready to leave.
As I’ve gotten older, people still find things about me that don’t seem right to them. At work, my coworkers thought I was depressed because I chose to eat lunch by myself. One of the executives I worked with subtly implied that I wasn’t a high-performing employee because I didn’t give my best efforts during team building activities. Or that I wasn’t supportive of my manager’s organizational goals because I didn’t speak up during meetings.
When it comes to family and friendships, some people perceived me as difficult or assumed I disliked them because I preferred staying home rather than spending the entire weekend hanging out, giving the impression that I didn’t enjoy their company.
I spent much of my life battling others’ opinions of me, constantly trying to manage how people felt. But at some point, I just got exhausted. When you’re conditioned from a young age to say yes, conform, and meet expectations, it feels natural to do whatever it takes to gain approval and fit in. You’re led to believe that pleasing others is the key to acceptance. But that’s no way to live. I struggled for years because I didn’t know who I was, I didn’t know I was an introvert all along!
In sharing this, I want people to understand how I felt. I used to think my value as a person was based solely on what I could do for others, that I was only worthy if I made people happy. It took me years to process and heal from this damaging mindset. Kids raised in environments like this often grow up to be people-pleasers—I know because I’ve been there.
This isn’t meant to dishonor the people who raised me. My parents did the best they could with what they knew, but I wish they had handled things differently. However, with what I understand now, I don’t blame them for not knowing better. They had no idea about my introversion—it wasn’t something families discussed around the dinner table back then. My parents were shaped by the lessons and values passed down from their own parents, who came from a different generation. They simply passed on what they had been taught, reflecting the culture of their time.
We’re living in a different era now. I’m really glad we can discuss introversion so openly. We have a wealth of resources at our disposal—books, podcasts, vlogs, websites, and specialists—that explore this broad topic in enlightening ways. The struggles I faced then and the challenges I encounter today are continually helping me embrace my true self. I hope other introverts realize that our personalities aren’t flaws to be fixed. We’re not antisocial; we’re just wired differently, navigating a world that often criticizes us for simply being ourselves.
+++
A note to my parents, especially Dad: Thank you for believing in my talent. Thank you for exposing me to music, but please know that all those times you punished me for refusing to sing before visitors didn’t break my spirit. Did you really think that my staying in the bedroom until guests have left made me sad? Nope, you actually gave me what I needed: Time and Space to Be By Myself, Away from The Noise and Crowd.
And here’s a note to my younger self: You will discover who you are and once you do, you will turn your struggles into strength and you will advocate for those who are going through what you’ve been through. So chin up, adjust your invisible crown and go happily introverting!