54 Comments
User's avatar
Merv's avatar

I have struggled with guilt/shame/frustration over being an introvert too and someone recommended I read the book 'Quiet' by Susan Cain. It's about the value of introverts and why the world needs us too! Would recommend :)

Expand full comment
Rosie's avatar

Second this. Quiet is very encouraging!

Expand full comment
Portia's avatar

Great advice, Philippa, always considerate, intelligent, and kind. But why is it always us introverts who have to make an effort, who should change and adapt? Why does nobody ever say to an extrovert: "Aw, just tone it down, you clown!"?

Expand full comment
Philippa Perry's avatar

I think it’s whoever has this problem has the power to do something about their problem. If an extrovert doesn’t feel they are missing out on connecting then they are doing what works for them. And, I’m not sure I believe in this age-old concept of introvert and extrovert as whether you are outgoing or not, is not something set in stone.

Expand full comment
Portia's avatar

Thanks for replying, Philippa! You make a good point, and yes, our minds and souls (if we have one) are too dynamic and complex to put in some boxes with labels on.

I was projecting my lifelong frustrations of hearing a constant hum of "Make an effort/You should change/You should act differently", it was exhausting and mortifying, especially as a child.

Expand full comment
Philippa Perry's avatar

Whereas what you could have been told is relax, you’re fine, be yourself. I think when we’re critiqued we learn to be critical of others and ourselves which then adds to self consciousness.

Expand full comment
Portia's avatar

And many precious energies wasted. Luckily, it's never too late to unlearn such negative behaviour.

Thanks for your pearls of wisdom, Philippa! I was sad when you left "The Guardian,", but what a gain for Substack!

Expand full comment
Philippa Perry's avatar

Thank you. Watch out for a new publication coming soon called The Nerve. Its writers and editors are made up from people who used to write for The Observer when it was owned by The Guardian.

Expand full comment
Portia's avatar

Good title!

Expand full comment
Madra Faolan's avatar

Intro, extro, ambi, omni and "oto"vert seem to me more like flexible traits than rigid identities. The vert part is interesting, from vertere, latin for to turn. Things that are fixed cannot turn but nothing is fixed or written in stone when you realise that you can change direction.

Expand full comment
Rosie H's avatar

I love this comment, even though I am a gobshite extrovert! Pahahahaha!

*remembers to tone-down my clownishness the next time I go out in public* ;)

Expand full comment
Philippa Perry's avatar

No don’t do that!

Expand full comment
Portia's avatar

I’m sure you’re great fun and a delightful companion, Rosie!

Expand full comment
Tina Storey's avatar

What a very familiar feeling expressed in the letter, and what a sensitive and helpful response.

Expand full comment
Lindsay Nicholson's avatar

The LW sounds as if she finds working together for a common purpose (as at the theatre) satisfying - but socialising just for the sake of it very stressful. This sounds eminently reasonable to me. Perhaps, keeping that in mind, she could organise her life by building in more purpose-oriented activities and fewer purely social occasions. Where socialising is inescapable - eg a family wedding - she could look for a task to make it more bearable such as looking after an aged relative or entertaining young children

Expand full comment
Lesley Foote's avatar

I love the way you break down conversation into a code Philippa. You have done that a few times now and it always resonates, it is so helpful for real life.

Expand full comment
Philippa Perry's avatar

And I’ll probably say it again! Then we’ll all get it and I won’t have to.

Expand full comment
Jo Bisseker Barr's avatar

I love this - and agree that it’s not black and white - that we are never either introvert or extrovert.

I can’t bear it when people are over-loud, dominate the space and talk rubbish. I withdraw.

But when I’m with the people I love, connect with and trust, I can be noisy, passionate, teasing and humorous.

Sometimes, if we connect with a person, we can become energised and talkative, lost in the joy of a shared approach and understanding. It’s a pleasure to have made these kind of unselfconscious relationships.

Expand full comment
Philippa Perry's avatar

I think we’re all probably like that, or could be. I certainly withdraw when it’s no fun. I think you key word here is “unselfconscious” when we overthink we’re not present.

Expand full comment
Lisa H's avatar

As an introvert who's nearly 60, I can vouch for the last bit! I found social gatherings excruciating when I was younger, still don't find them easy now. But sometimes you do find a gem, you do meet someone with whom you genuinely connect, and that is worth all the devastating small talk. And like most interactions in life, it's not about you, it's about them. I have found that taking a small totem with me, like a pebble or a bit of plant, and envisioning that forming a friendly buffer between me and others, only allowing friendly thoughts and words in, can be a help. I did it for my Dad's funeral, where I knew I would have to meet a lot of people, many strangers, at his wake. I got through it really well.

Edit: my husband is the extrovert. He adores going round and talking to everyone, and manages to connect with them too.

Expand full comment
Ewa Szypula's avatar

Love this. Been rereading "Daily Rituals: How Great Women Make Time" by Mason Currey, and am struck by how many successful writers and artists seem absolutely delighted when they get a chunk of time on their own where they get to totally ignore all the other people...

Virginia Woolf: 'Real company was problematic: "The truth is, I like it when people actually come; but I love it when they go", Woolf wrote, and friends remembered her as an innatentive and borderline rude host'.

:)

Expand full comment
Sharahd's avatar

As you are a theatre person you might like this:

Imagine a space with a few other people where you say the first thing that comes into your head and there’s no such thing as mistakes - that’s what you’d get at an Improv taster class (sounds scary but really isn’t!)

Once you get used to these new ‘rules’, it can be quite freeing from the ‘overthinking’ what to say and worrying about people judging you (they aren’t - they’re too busy thinking about themselves anyway).

I found this helpful after working from home, being isolated and not seeing or speaking to people - I felt like I’d lost the power of speech! :)

Expand full comment
Philippa Perry's avatar

Yes me too. Isn’t it a great discovery that socialising is like muscles - if you don’t use it, you lose it.

Expand full comment
Rosie's avatar

What I always found difficult e.g in university seminars was that I so rarely spoke, that when I did, the room would become absolutely silent, as everyone turned to listen and look at me. I read this as people thinking “she so rarely speaks, this must be REALLY profound for her so be doing so now.” Which of course led me to second-guess and scrutinise what I was considering saying all the more. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Expand full comment
Joanna Pinches's avatar

It is interesting to me that no one has mentioned the possibility the writer may be autistic. My first thoughts here, like most people’s are likely coloured by my own experience, which is fairly recently I discovered I am autistic and ADHD and can relate to the writer’s experience. It may seem unnecessary and possibly harmful to label people with such terms like autism, which ultimately like all other apparent syndromes/conditions/ways of being are names we have created to help us understand and categorise. Philippa to me seemed to go to great pains not to mention neurodivergence, but rather proffer helpful advice, which is really useful. However, over the last 3/4 years through research and listening to hundreds of hours of lived experience of those who’ve discovered they’re neurodivergent, my current belief is that it is extremely useful to have knowledge of the different current thinkings around neurodivergence and one’s own (alleged) neurotypes, particularly if you are struggling. I feel where we currently are with such a general lack of understanding and empathy in society for different brain types that having a ‘label’ helps. It allows the individual to realise there is nothing wrong with them, they are good enough as they are, they just have a different operating system. What I have learnt is that we shouldn’t have to change ourselves to fit into a neurotypical world (what ever that is), the population at large needs to be aware that some people don’t do small talk and some do. Some may be able to adapt to learn not to or to do it. It’s these expectations that neurodivergent people spend so much energy worrying about and trying to do which causes burnout, breakdowns. Personally, I feel so much better about myself, now I know there’s nothing wrong with me. That’s not to say I don’t struggle, but I’m on a path to self acceptance. There’s too much to cover here really, but, ultimately it would be great if we didn’t need labelling, I just think we are a million miles from that currently. The writer might feel happier and feeling ‘less than’ if they looked into the possibility of being neurodivergent. They sound like they have a good understanding of themselves and really healthy life. While pushing ourselves to step outside our conform zone, I personally feel is necessary, for neurodivergent individuals, pushing too much or sometimes even at all can be detrimental.

Expand full comment
Madra Faolan's avatar

Yes ! A beautifully nuanced cimment. A world without labels would be very... different. For those of us who qualify for those labels it's great when we can be in situations where we can peel them off or they don't matter. Personally with my label (ADHD)I think to myself it's a label not a lens, a raincoat that can help me adapt to the "showers" that being with others can involve but not a suit of armour so impenetrable that I cannot see outside of if it and nothing can get in. It's about trying to balance and balance is about all sorts of tiny movements and building the muscles that support them. Sometimes it's a toss up, you can only choose between can aching for want of connection or aching from the effort of trying to make it !

Expand full comment
Tony Loyd's avatar

Philippa,

Your post resonated deeply with my own journey of understanding social dynamics. I’ve recently discovered that what I thought were just social difficulties actually stem from childhood trauma around being heard and understood.

I have cerebral palsy, and while my speech has improved over the years, I developed a pattern in social situations of thrusting myself forward to be heard - something my wife tried unsuccessfully to help me recognize. As she pointed out, this behavior mirrored my father’s approach and had the unfortunate effect of blocking out people’s negative reactions, which would build up over time.

The breakthrough came through understanding my relationship with my father. He was a former marine, always active, always on the go. While he had learned to listen when commanding others (where failure could mean unnecessary death), in our daily interactions, when I couldn’t attract his attention, it felt existential to me. This realization helped me understand why being ignored or misunderstood felt so traumatic - it triggered that same childhood desperation to be heard.

After my father’s death and dealing with estate issues with my sister, the stress led to acts of self-harm. It was only then, particularly after reading “The Body Keeps the Score,” that I understood I was experiencing traumatic reactions. When I had something important to say and was ignored, I would retreat into myself - a protective response I’d developed over decades.

Over the past eighteen months, I’ve been reluctant to socialize much, finding it painful and overwhelming. However, I’ve built a supportive foundation: my wife, two close friends I speak with weekly, and others I connect with less regularly but meaningfully. I’ve also joined Andy’s Man Club’s online video groups - gatherings of 7-20 men every Monday. These have been revelatory, showing me both how vulnerable men are and the cost of hiding that vulnerability, while providing a safe space to voice my own feelings.

Your insights about the advantages of appearing shy have been particularly helpful. I’m learning that I can observe others closely and speak only when what I have to say fits into their view of the world - a much more effective way of relating than my old pattern of demanding to be heard.

I’ve also found AI conversations useful for reflection and constructive critique, helping me understand how my words match my intentions. It’s often painful but valuable feedback on something I can always improve, even if I can never perfect it.

The path back to comfortable socializing will take time, but I’m grateful for the self-understanding that’s emerged from this difficult journey.

Thank you for creating content that helps people like me make sense of our social worlds.

Expand full comment
caroline's avatar

This resonates with me as I used to feel this way. I also recognise the strange feeling of intense shame after putting myself out there. It took me until my 30s to become more confident in these situations and then when I realised that the purpose of small talk is just to make contact with people I was able to start doing it too. I realised I did not need to say anything deep or meaningful at the start of a conversation. Previously I had ‘despised’ small talk (due mainly to my brother but that’s another story) but now I felt free to say anything daft or obvious or even share a momentary feeling and away you go, into building up a friendship or a temporary acquaintance. In these preliminaries you can tell a lot about the person you are talking to, and they about you. I was able to shed that cloak of shyness that I had worn since childhood years. I now like nothing better than meeting new people. In my seventies now, I am still working on these issues but at least I shed that erroneous belief. I still don’t like people who talk constantly and don’t let me get a word in, because I am probably still more of a listener than a talker but that’s fine. A French acquaintance once said to me, “ce n’est pas bon de s’effacer. “ I keep that in my memory as a totem.

Expand full comment
Annie Green's avatar

I was paralysed by shyness when young but gradually managed to teach myself how to manage public situations by watching how confident people behaved and practising until I felt comfortable. And it is so true that very few people are really invested in your behaviour - we are all just trying to get by in this mad old world. A smile, the odd word, a kind gesture - that’ll do. And when meeting new people I have found that simply asking them about themselves is the best way in. NB not like the Gestapo, I beg. Good luck!

Expand full comment
George Morley's avatar

This is such warm, gracious and spacious advice for us introverts - thank you!

Expand full comment
Lea FA's avatar

I come from a large family, with lots of introverts, extroverts and everything in-between. My mother is especially quiet and I adore her company, as 1:1 she has space to be. I am always very protective over quieter people. I appreciate and enjoy dearly spending time with those who enjoy silence and being. In fact now in my 30s, I seek this out, what a comfort it is to me to be able to sit and be with others and let time pass by.

So never be worried about not saying much, you will be seen and felt by many it sounds like you bring a lot to your friend's lives and to the theatre.

It's nice to have a mix of people who bring different things to relationships - I think it's a wonderful quality to be aware of one's behaviour and to allow space for all.

Expand full comment