Extroversion and introversion in perfect harmony

“I feel the need to be seen and unseen in equal measure.” 

This is part of a quote from a post a connection on X made recently. You know when you read something and it just makes you stop — not pause but stop — in the moment while you absorb what you’ve just read? That was me. I let those words surface settle. Greedily read them again and let them sink deeper. Now they were melting into the layers of my skin. Now they were no longer just words but they were a part of me.

Seen and unseen. Exactly that. This sentiment captures how I’ve felt for most of my life but have been unable to express. 

I’m part extrovert. Mostly extrovert. But there is a part of me that has deep roots in an introvert personality as well. It’s an interesting contradiction.

I fill my days with activities and, even if my plans are not an invitation for two (or more), I’m often interacting with people. At the pool. At an event. Not being shy and with a plain, nonthreatening face that invites conversation, I find I get approached to talk more often than not. And I’m generally open to it. Open to conversations with friends and strangers. Open to embracing life with all its presented possibilities and unafraid to have witnesses along for the ride. 

I post my adventures on social media hoping to encourage my friends to be open to opportunities — new and old — as well. My extrovert Queen is comfortable being seen, being noticed. She laughs with gusto, smiles widely, eyes that engage. Secure in herself, confident, she doesn’t demand to be seen, she just is. I just am. Not for my outward presentation but for how I outwardly present. 

And, while I do, my introverted lady patiently waits for her turn to speak up and request time on her own. Time with dialled down activities or no activities. Time for all of me to become unseen. Confident as well, she craves silence, peace. She wants to blend in and observe, not be observed.

It’s taken me a very long time to be comfortable with it all, comfortable with the shifts. Comfortable with a slower gear, a gentler pace. Comfortable with a pace that can seem frantic but in a good way. I’ve unconsciously learned I need to be both and that I don’t have to choose to always be one way or the other. That might seem like a no brainer but since my default is generally towards a  busy, extroverted lifestyle I do have some guilt when I say no to getting together with friends. A twinge or regret at choosing stillness first. 

My curious mind, while intrigued with the it all — extrovert, introvert and a blend of both — is even more curious about my feelings as I slide between them. 

What spurred this? Why the need to examine feelings? Why can’t quiet just be quiet and loud just be loud? 

I think it’s because I’m becoming more sharply aware of what’s good for me and how I listen to myself and let my inner voice guide me to what I need. Am I happy when I’m busy with pursuits? Do I feel fulfilled when I am constantly connecting? Stressed? My answer is yes. I feel all of it and more. I’m busier now since the death of My Favourite Husband than I’ve been in many years. At the very beginning, the busyness helped cope with my grief and some of the deep, sharp feelings it evoked. A fuller calendar didn’t delay the feelings, the hurt, the grief, but it gave me breaks from it. Joy breaks. And it those joy breaks allowed me to move forward and heal. 

Busy became my new norm. And being seen was something that held validation. I’m here. I’m healing. I’m a woman writing her new chapter, claiming herself in the now. 

In the four-plus years that I’ve been in my own, my softer, quieter introvert partner has been less prevalent. She always seems to know when to present herself so that I stop and pause, though. When she arrives, my feelings seem to feel deeper. I’m not sad but, when I am, it’s more than a gentle melancholy — it’s a sharp sad. 

My quiet joy is a magnified joy. Inwardly, not outwardly exuberant. I still connect but I share less, preferring to absorb and sit in my feelings and thoughts. I prefer to be unseen not because something is wrong but because everything is right. 

It’s where I find myself now in a reflective phase. I’m not sad  because of the upcoming holidays. I’m not upset that I’m on my own. I’m just craving solitude and introspection. Instead of forcing myself to participate in holiday events and the busyness of the season, I’ll listen to myself and honour myself by being selective. Pulling back, for me, also means posting less on social media and, when I do, leaving the posts up for a short time only before archiving them for me. 

It means withdrawing from being in photos not because I’m unhappy with how I look but because I want the focus to be on what I’m hearing and seeing and not on me. I’m desiring anonymity in a world where people are shouting to be heard. 

Connecting in my quiet phase looks a bit different as well. Often I take the lead in reaching out, planning get togethers, getting updates. But when I retreat and nestle in, I find myself making the first move less simply because this time in my life is just for letting things be how they will be. I’m less concerned with maintaining what I have with others and more concerned about maintaining what I have with myself. 

Being introverted, unseen, for now, was never planned. It’s just something that I’ve found myself quietly slipping into. Not retreating, simply being. It feels good.