INTROVERSION: AN EXPERIENCE
“Don’t be so shy!”
“Come on, speak up!”
“Don’t force me to squeeze the facts out of you!”
I have heard those words countless times in many variations when I was a child. Sometimes harshly, sometimes gently, yet the people who spoke them had one thing in common: they were impatient and/or annoyed with me.
Even before I went to school, I felt I was different from most other children. While they loved to make new friends and play together, I was hesitant to join in with them. When my brother, who is two years older than me, started to go to school and learned to read, I was fascinated—and learned with him. My parents couldn’t stop me, so all they could do was make sure I learned correctly. Soon I started to read whole books, and I just loved it. In my mind, the figures and scenes came to life, and I imagined being there too, taking part in the adventures the heroes experienced. Even when a book was finished, the images were still with me. Somehow, it was better than reality—of course, imagination allows you to be anything you like. Looking back, I wonder if one could say that the figures from the book were my best friends.
In due time I started to go to school, and I was excited—at first. So many things to learn! But soon I got bored, because especially in the first years, the school material was rather easy. And there were some difficulties with some classmates. Some kids would stay away from me, which made me feel insecure and I would withdraw. Even in church, at Children’s Sabbath School and Pathfinder meetings, this happened. Given the fact that my father was the pastor, maybe it was an even more difficult situation there. Whenever I had a chance, I would go to my books and inner world that was so much better to live in.
During my first two years in primary school, I discovered I had a strong sense of justice and could easily empathize with others. I remember a classmate, a small boy, who had come from another country and had difficulties with the language. At times, when we were supposed to have brought brushes for painting, he did not have them, saying he had forgotten them. Our teacher got angry and slapped him, more than once. I did feel sorry for the boy, and angry at the teacher; I knew what she did was not right but as I was not sure what to do, I kept quiet.
At high school, things got worse. Being the quiet kid I was, classmates found me an easy prey for mobbing. They (luckily not all) would act as if I had some contagious disease, try not to touch me or any of my belongings and if they did, they’d just throw it with every sign of disgust. That stopped only when, in my second high school year (I was twelve years old then), a teacher intervened. I hated to go to school, especially when I had to present something in front of the whole class, or when I knew we had a teacher who was unpredictable. You see, sometimes the teacher was the nicest person in the world, and sometimes this same teacher would react annoyed at the most innocent question, and I could not understand these discrepancies in behavior. Whenever I came home from school, I went to my room. Actually, I am thankful I had one for myself, because I think it was a challenge for my parents to find a house big enough, since we were four siblings.
I think one could say that I was in conflict with myself: On one hand, I longed for contact, to be with others, to be like them, open, happy, enjoying the company. On the other hand, it was a relief to be on my own. The talking people did all the time seemed useless to me. Why should anyone talk when there was nothing to say?
Also, when I was a teenager in church, in the youth group, most of the time I felt as if I didn’t belong. All the others enjoyed being together, singing, playing. When a meeting started, it would not take long until I felt like a fifth wheel and wished I could go home.
I noticed, however, that it was totally different when I was with only one or two persons at the same time, provided that they were respectful listeners. Among my best memories are the moments I shared with a former leader of our youth group. I was a university student then, and she invited me to her home several times, to have breakfast together and then study the Bible trying to find answers to some of my questions. I think that’s when I felt taken really seriously for the first time. Though my parents tried, they probably didn’t know what to do. Occasionally, my mom would say, “Don’t take all that to heart,” which served rather to make things worse. It seemed there was something wrong with me, and I was the one who should fix myself.
Nearly ten years later, I got the explanation. I had been a volunteer in Spain, come back to Germany (my country of origin), and left again for Switzerland to work there. Some years into work, some bad situations accumulated and threatened to drown me. I looked for and got professional help. During therapy we did a test for personality. I don’t remember which one exactly it was, nor do I remember most of the results—except one: introvert.
At first, I felt devastated, didn’t want to accept that. It seemed to be a disease. Yet I thought I could get to know more about the subject, and started to look for information. One can find a lot when looking through the internet. One of the most helpful things I found is a text about the ten most popular myths about introverts.1 I could relate to every single point. All of a sudden, so many things made sense which I could not understand before. The horror of having to speak publicly. The need for time on my own. The incomprehension for others and their talking. The immense comfort when being able to enter my inner world. What a relief to see that it is normal, it is not a disease that could (or even should) be cured. I could accept that for me, and that’s when freedom started. The more I learned about this trait of personality, the better I could understand, not only the past experiences but also the present, why I react in a certain way.
The next big step was when I found that introversion is often linked to a high sensitivity. The nervous system of highly sensitive people is very easily stimulated by little things, like noise and light. These stimuli are processed differently in their brains, and they extract more information from them. As a result, they can be overstimu-lated very easily and thus it is necessary for them to withdraw to a quiet place to recover more often than lesser sensitive people.
With this information in mind, I started to pay more attention to my inner sensations, especially when I noticed negative feelings. I realized there was a direct connection between the negative feelings and the stimuli from outside, particularly with noise. I found the feelings to be warning signals from my brain, requesting me to reduce the stimulation. For example, when I hear a baby crying, and I notice I feel annoyed, it means “yellow alert;” my brain tells me that soon it will be too much, and I should start looking for possibilities to relax. If I do not heed to that signal, the next step is “red alert;” I feel aggression raising (and before you get scared, I’m not violent). I believe it is a protective function of the brain to stop too many stimuli—if someone came in that moment, he or she would be repelled by my reaction with rather harsh words. Once I am alone, in a quiet environment, soon things will be okay again. This is my reaction; it can be different for other persons.
I am a highly sensitive introvert, with all the advantages and disadvantages it brings. And because I know this, I can adapt and make choices accordingly. That means that I more often than not choose not to take part in church activities, because I know that, after a week full of work, appointments, and interactions, I need the time to recharge. It is possible that many people do not understand it. I hope this experience I just wrote about can be an eye-opener for you. Other people may feel the same as I did, but still try to conform with expectations. I hope you can find peace, and a way you can be comfortable, also in church.
1See “10 Myths about Introverts,” Carl Kingdom, accessed August 17, 2023, https://carlkingdom.com/10-mythsabout-introverts.
Regina Fleischmann serves in the Ministerial Association of the Inter-European Division of the Seventh-day Adventist Church, Berne, Switzerland.
