I won’t say much, but I’ll make sure I get those words out there.
“I’m an introvert… so…”
And now I’m good. My bases are covered. I can be (dis)interested as I please because my introversion has become shared knowledge.
It’s well enough understood. Extroverts draw energy from social interactions. Introverts spend energy on social interaction. A system of debits and credits makes for a vibrant economy.
At its best, introversion is the recognition of solitude, contemplation, and reflection as important for a rounded life. But lately I’ve been convicted of my worst, which is using this disposition as an excuse for dismissing the needs of others. Instead of investing some energy into others, I’ll hoard it to myself justifying “that’s just who I am”.
It’s all a bunch of bologna. Personality is not a license to neglect basic human friendliness. I’ve confused “this requires energy” for “this is something I don’t need in my life”. I’ve desired to strike it rich in relationship, but refuse to enter into the mines of vulnerable interaction.
The harvest for friendship is plentiful. But the worker is an introvert who refuses to rise from their rest and work the land of conversation.
I’ve got my alarm set.