I sit there at the table, listening in waves. It’s not that I don’t care what the person has to say and if they were speaking to me directly, I would be engaged. It’s just that I’ve been around groups of people all morning and I don’t exactly feel like talking about work or my personal life. The thought, Do they really care, or do they just speak to fill the silence? enters my head.
I smile and nod a few times, but I find my mind wandering, wishing I were lying outside looking at the clouds or listening to birds sing and trying to identify the species. Something peaceful. Honestly, I’d be satisfied if I could just listen to an audiobook while processing data alone in the office. Moments like these remind me just how strongly introverted I am.
Introversion exists on a spectrum, much like any personality trait. Mine falls closer to the extreme end. I’ve discussed this a bit in Social Life of a Scientist, one of my other reflection posts. I don’t exactly find it hard to be around others but rather draining. Tiring. I’m not sure which word fits best.
After an eight-hour workday I feel mentally, emotionally, and somehow physically exhausted. Perhaps that sounds a bit dramatic, but I often think I’d be happier working in a profession where I could be completely remote. Perhaps as a professional hermit.
The problem is that I understand the importance of socializing and the irony is that many of the things I value most have come from situations that drain me. For example, it’s thanks to being in person at my job that I found a running group. Had I worked entirely remotely I would have missed that opportunity.
The implications of introversion reach far beyond work. They affect my personal life as well. I enjoy activities that are largely independent, so I spend much of my spare time reading, drawing, writing, or playing music alone.
When I say alone, I don’t mean Alone with a capital A and all the negative connotations attached to it. Truthfully, I do occasionally feel lonely—Alone with a capital A—but more often I experience a satisfied solitude in my own company.
That feeling of contentment in solitude reminds me of a quote by Henry David Thoreau, “I love to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude.”
A colleague once asked if I simply didn’t feel the need to make friends. I replied that I do have friends. The thing is for many introverts the social circle is quite small. The conversations tend to be more meaningful. Silence is a welcome activity.
Because of my introversion I’ve been told that I’m difficult to approach and that I sometimes come across as snobbish. I can’t really fault people for thinking that, especially if they don’t know me personally.
Of course, my introversion affects my personal life, but surprisingly, it affects my professional life as well. It has been difficult to navigate my introversion here in Europe compared to the United States.
In the two years I’ve lived in Paris my experience has been that work culture is very social. People ask how your weekend was, what you plan to do next weekend, how your vacation went, and how you’re doing. They want to have lunch together in groups. They want to go to the bar after work. There are department retreats, lab retreats, and countless social gatherings. The list goes on, and I think you get my point.
It can be a struggle to be an introvert in this kind of environment.
I realize my situation may be somewhat unique and there are certainly workplaces in the United States that are equally social. But when an introvert works in an environment designed around extroverted norms, I can’t help but wonder whether there’s a balance to be found, one that I haven’t quite discovered yet.
Thinking about work can be stressful for me. When I wake up, I literally think to myself: Should I take lunch alone today, or eat with the group? What about coffee time? Should I join everyone and make conversation?
That uncertainty puts me on edge.
The problem is that I don’t want to be excluded from everything simply because I prefer spending large amounts of time outside of group settings. I’ve already seen the consequences of consistently skipping lunch with the group and I’ve also seen how things improved once I started joining every few days.
I can already hear the simplicity of the advice: If you want solitude, then take it.
The difficulty is that I normally would have followed that advice without hesitation when I lived in the United States. It felt easier there. People were polite. There were the “How are you?” exchanges, the smiles, the nods, but interactions rarely extended much further unless you were close colleagues or friends.
Lunch was usually taken individually. Going out for drinks with the lab was something I had never experienced. Neither was regularly discussing vacation plans. In general, people kept to themselves.
Because Paris feels much more group oriented my instinct to be part of the group kicks in. I feel an urge to belong.
I think that’s where I’m struggling.
An introvert trying to belong in a place that feels built for extroversion.
And perhaps that’s why I still feel like an outsider.
Leaving this thought here for now.
For those who have found some balance between your introversion and working in a more social environment I’d love to hear your thoughts!
In my next post, Ill plan to do a deep dive into research of introversion in the workplace. Stay tuned !
From Paris,
Leti
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