Selectively Juggling

I’m not going to lie. I definitely identify as being introverted, albeit a confident introvert. That’s not to say I really enjoy other people’s company and can handle being front and centre (for a time). I love people. I love engaging with people in genuine, authentic conversation, not trivial or superficial crap. Not to mention my profession relies on my ability to genuinely connect with people, building rapport and trust. Yet, in order to do this, I need to have enough quality time alone, with myself, preferably in nature, where I can simply be alone with my own thoughts, feelings and energy. I can drink in the incredible nature, sights, sounds, smells, music, and environment in front of me. I get to ground myself, still my thoughts and really practice presentism. I usually do this armed with my trusty steed, my camera. It allows me to basically fall into a sense of ‘flow’ of being completely present at the moment. I get to reframe my perspective, and the camera lens acts as an incredible tool, enabling me to ground, breathe, breathe, and just BE. If you’ve never tried photography, I challenge you to give it a whirl.

Several work colleagues don’t believe me when I tell them that I’m introverted, saying “No way. you’re too social!” or “But you are good at running groups and working with people!” However, I can assure you with unequivocal certainty I am 100% introverted. Even more interesting is that I enjoy being introverted. I love and accept the way I am, the way I perceive the world and my place in it. Not only am I introverted, but I’m what I would consider a hyper-visual-thinker; I see and think in metaphor, simile, images and pictures. I’ve always been a visual person, yet it wasn’t until yesterday that I was reminded of just how visual I am. Sitting in a rather uninspired white conference room for a day of strategic planning (complete with some pretty senior management) I found myself condensing all the concepts, thoughts and words into poignant similes and extended metaphor and related images.

Compelled to share with the team, I could see the looks on the faces of those who instantly got the nuances of meaning. There’s no ambiguity, no wasted words, or time, just pure, easily understood concepts and ideas. Whilst others, obviously not so visually-minded, needed to have more wordy clarification. There is something to be said when minds discuss complex or intricate details and information yet use unrelated contexts and ideas to gain further clarity. Please don’t get me wrong. I love words. In fact, I really, really love words. I’ve had to develop a robust and expansive vocabulary simply so I could translate the visual thoughts into words.

What was also interesting was being amidst a group of professionals, some of which are definite extroverts, others ambiverts and introverts. I consciously found myself naturally listening more intently to my introverted peers, as their voices and energies were less distracting. Perhaps my introversion is a result of socialisation, of my childhood. Perhaps being the 8th child of 10 children resulted in my need to carve out quiet time for myself, time for me to hear myself think, process life and fly under the radar. Regardless of the reasons why I am as I am, the truth is that I need quiet time, alone time, where I am able to draw and recharge my energy. Not to mention the world of being a special needs parent can be pretty hectic and. extremely challenging at times. This seriously eats into alone time whilst also making alone time even more crucial for overall physical and mental health and well-being.

I recently read that introverted people are often mislabeled as snobs, aloof, shy, reserved or just up themselves. However, the reality is that we are deep reflective thinkers, and as such, we exist in our own heads. I admit I am an overthinker; I exist in my head. Hence the reason for getting away into nature, picking up my camera and grounding myself in the moment. This is a crucial time to stop and reset, so I can go out into the world fully charged, energetic and passionate. It helps me to establish healthy boundaries, avoid compassion fatigue, as well as supercharge my empathy.