My Poetic Account of Introversion.

Hello, my name is Genevieve and I am secretly an introvert - or so I thought, until recently. For years I had people telling me how I always seemed excited and in primary school teachers would regularly tell my parents how talkative I was (I think I was just happy all the time and didn't know how to hold it in).  This was a regular thing for people to comment on through out my primary and early high school years. Recently I have noticed that when I get super excited I cannot contain myself and will generally make an outward expression to that excitement.  Every now and then, I get these outward bursts of energy where I will say or write a lot (and can't hold back), will jump around or make frantic hand movements, or I will just make some squeaky noise of excitement.  

It is something that has become quite apparent to me lately - this outward expression of excitement. It's like my insides can't contain my excitement, so I have to physically do something to 'ease' the build up.  I try and make a conscious effort to not be so outward with my excitement (as I feel it's a tad overwhelming sometimes - especially in writing), although I am not always so successful and my excitement leaks out any way. But along with this realisation, I also became aware of my 'introverted-ness'.  I don't know what it is. Maybe I came to the realisation of how seemingly insignificant each individual life is, in the 'grand scheme of things', or maybe I watched too many "realistic" movies (where many are about true heartbreak, despair and loss), or have spent far too long in my room by myself, mulling over life. Whatever it is, I almost feel like a switch was flicked and I became aware of my surroundings and how crowded they sometimes felt. 

Over the years, I have mastered the skill of complimenting and encouraging strangers (and now I can't help it, I just love giving compliments), (sheepishly) asking strangers at parties if they would like their photo taken (when hired for parties/weddings), and have found it generally easy to strike up a conversation with someone who I am sitting next to on a train or someone I am being served by at a cash register. But every now an then I feel my true introverted self take over and I become timid, like a small mouse hiding in the corner, hoping not to be caught. 

It is that moment when everything seems to slow down, you can feel your emotions tuck themselves away and you have this sense as if you need to hide.  You start to become completely aware of your surroundings, as if you are an audience member at the theatre - the scene is stretched out before you and you start picking up on every tiny detail, every flaw, every movement, every eye watching you in the moment. Your voice quietens to a hush, your body becomes physically smaller. It is as if your retracting body can somehow hide within itself - as if you will then be out of the way (away from the seemingly huge crowd surrounding you). 

You become a shell - the fragment of your self that is left visible. What is there to do next? 

... This is almost exactly what happened to me today. I was out shopping with my parents and grandma. It was a beautiful, crisp day and I was happy to be with my family. Then came the moment where I had to make a decision (which seems silly, but it was a decision I wanted to make carefully). I don't know what it was, whether I felt pressured, like I didn't want to disappoint anyone, or I felt out of my element and a little overwhelmed, but it happened.  I quietly said "thank you" to the lady helping us and stepped outside the store. To my surprised, I started to cry. I felt so embarrassed for crying, but I didn't know what else to do. It was as if crying was my body's automatic response. What I was most surprised about, was that nothing of this sort had ever happened to me before. I am not one for shutting down when making decisions (although I do find decision making hard) and am certainly not one for crying in public (i'm not one to show many of the sadder emotions to others). 

This was the most publicly introverted I had been. 

So, I am here letting you know that I am definitely more introverted than I sometimes let on and I am okay with that. Being an introvert isn't a bad thing - it just means that you're more likely to sit back and observe while others take the reins. Being introverted means that you take in more of your surroundings, you are happy to sit quietly and notice the small things that others moving quickly may not.  

The act of being introverted is almost poetic. Almost romantic - although it should not be romanticised.  

Being who you truly are and being happy in that, is one of the most poetic, romantic, beautiful things of all. 

☼