stfu brain

I got a degree in Psychology so clearly these drawings are 100% scientifically accurate. Please take these incredibly seriously and if you find any discrepancy in the above descriptions from what you've read in any biological or cognitive text books, they are wrong, not me.

Most of my life I've felt like some sort of strange lost child throw into a world not meant for me. I always felt like I didn't need people as much as most others do, so the majority of the outside world tended to terrify me, or at the very least inconvenience me. As a child, when I'd be dragged out of my room to visit family out of town, my grandma would always comment delightfully on how I was so self-sufficient at entertaining myself. My relatives on my mother's side of the family tends to be loud and gregarious, so I think it was always a relief to her that she wouldn't have to worry about me demanding her constant attention and making her play weird games with her.

Because of my disinterest in being around enormous groups of vivacious people, most assumed I was deathly shy. Sure, if a stranger bitch got in my face to ask me in a loud condescending tone what grade I was in or what I was reading, I would cling fearfully behind my father's legs, but in general I've never really felt like I was particularly shy; I enjoyed acting in front of large audiences, and I was the life of the party in groups of four or less (pending this party didn't last too long). If I entertained others too long I felt exhausted and somewhat violated mentally and emotionally.

Even though I always pretty comfortable with my unconventional way of living life, everyone else seemed to be greatly concerned that I didn't act like, or think like them. I also learned from a young age that if one fell even a centimeter off the "normalcy" chart (whatever "normal" is) that the general public felt it was their duty to come up with some sort of label to describe this misfit lifestyle. I was a hermit, a loner, anti-social, a cat lady, mentally unstable -- all because I didn't think that going to a stranger's party on a Friday night sounded like my idea of a good time.

In high school it got worse, because I lived in a little country town where school and friends and typical teenager hangout joints were in a neighboring city that was many miles away. Without a license or access to decent public transportation, my peers didn't realize that my weekly date of going to the movies with a couple friends or sneaking out for a party was an exhausting, elaborated scheme in itself that already took a considerable amount of the limited energy I felt I could expel on others. Ironically, I felt like I was doing a great job of being outgoing and social, but apparently my attempts weren't futile enough. I had a genuinely enjoyable time in high school and made a ton of great friends, but people still looked at me sympathetically for being the lonely Boo Radley figure of the group that lived a sad life in the orange groves. I wasn't like them, so clearly I was miserable. Doesn't everyone just want to be like everyone else?

For 19 years I always felt like some weird defective toy that totally belonged on the Island of Misfits, until I took Introduction to Psychology. I immediately fell in love with the subject, questions I could never articulate were not only written out for me on the pages of my text book better than I could ever word, but also answered.

One day, we began discussing the Big Five personality traits. It was both a liberating and depressing moment in my life. I instantly found new words to describe how I felt on the inside -- neurotic! conscientious! -- but I also felt dismayed when my professor immediately pointed out how if you fell too far down on said scales, you were a misplaced sock away from having a nervous breakdown. But I didn't worry too much about any of that when she then proceeded to explain Extroversion versus Introversion. As she listed of characteristics for the introvert, suddenly my life began to make sense. I don't rely on company around me to keep me stimulated, I already have enough shit going around in my head! I always assumed that everyone had problems with never being able to shut off his or her brain; it never really occurred to me that having insomnia since I was eight because I feel like bolts of neurons are constantly playing a violent game of laser tag, or feeling overwhelmed when too many people lay their problems out on me because I am in a constant state of stream of consciousness could be the product of my individual personality make up, and not just something that everyone deals with but doesn't talk about. There was suddenly a better word to describe me than "shy" or "detached." It's not that I hate people or engaging in activities that extroverts enjoy -- I just can't handle it for too long without my brain feeling like it's going to pack up its suitcase and leave me forever for never paying it overtime or giving it 401K benefits. I am a terrible boss. I need to be better to my employee.

Ever since I discovered this magical word to summarize my life's existence, I've felt a lot more unapologetic for my behavior -- possibly to a fault. I still constantly get referred to as a hermit who just hangs out in her room like a loser, but it doesn't guilt me into being more social as much as it just kind of pisses me off. As somewhat of a big "fuck you" to the people who just don't get it, I become even more withdrawn and hide into a deeper realm of my thoughts. I'm not saying that what I do is always particularly "healthy," but I do wish more people understood the different ways our brains work. Strangely, I do feel like I constantly need bolts of stimulation just to keep my frontal lobes feel secure in their ability to do their job, but the stimulation I need doesn't come from interacting with other people (conversation and opening myself to others drains me out). So instead, I drink a lot of caffeine. I eat bad food that tastes good. I ride roller coasters. I listen to loud music. I use multiple forms of technological entertainment at the same time. I go to concerts (which, while you are around a lot of people, I've learned is a surprisingly satisfying solo activity).

There are a couple articles I've found on introversion that I can relate to quite well, but from browsing through the comments, I've noticed that for some reason these stories seem to deeply offend some extroverts. I'd like to believe that introverts and extroverts can bake rainbow cakes and be happy and live in harmony together, but I think we need to understand each other.

Extroverts (and perhaps introverts that fall on a different level of introversion than I): am I pathetic? Should I just move to the Island of Misfits already? This is my story. What's yours?