Kia ora Adam, I am definitely an introvert, and it can make my work life a bit draining at times. In academia, introversion makes networking difficult, especially because it doesn't feel like the "productive work" of sitting down and writing, or getting through the endless stack of papers to read. Networking and other meetings often lead to more opportunities and meetings, which can be daunting. My research is with Indigenous peoples (Māori), which I identify partly as, and Māori culture is very community-minded which I feel a bit hard sometimes, having grown up in an individualistic western household. By undertaking research with Māori, I have committed to becoming "a known face" in the community, learning the language, and building relationships with the community - these are positive things, but do lead to a lot more filling up of my calendar, which makes me feel a bit overwhelmed. In my clinical work, introversion isn't too bad. In fact like yourself, I've found it helps me connect more deeply with individual patients. But when it comes to CPD like peer review meetings, and staff socials (a hazard of any work place), it all gets a bit draining.
I've found that time autonomy is very important to me, and I quickly get unhappy and resentful if I'm out and about too much. So, if I start to feel that moodiness coming on, or I can see that I've got a busy few weeks ahead, I'll schedule a Selfish Day. The definition of Selfish Day is that it wouldn't matter if I stayed in my pjs all day - ie. no commitments or plans. I can leave the house if I want to, but essentially there is not reason why I should HAVE to get dressed for the day.
Yau Chelsea. What a wonderful reply. I love your Selfish Days (though 'selfish' sounds pejorative — I'd call them Me Days!). May I quote you in a future article?
Sure :) I wanted to call them Selfish Days because I wanted to break my mindset that being selfish is bad - because it is not morally wrong to put your own needs first (depending on the context). It's wrong to put your WANTS before other people's needs, but I needed to learn that I'm not a bad person for looking after myself like that. I needed to reframe the word 'Selfish' into a more healthily assertive term, because I've always felt that asking for things, or saying no to things, made me a bad person.
I am not really sure where I fall on the spectrum, but I think I at least lean introvert. One thing I have noticed, as you already alluded to in the post, is that after teaching (university) I often need a period of decompression, and it can be hard to come straight home to a houseful of kids who also require a lot of positive energy.
I think this has become more noticeable in the age of ubiquitous powerpoint, because teaching feels more and more like it's supposed to be an entertaining performance, even as we're also always trying to make it more and more student centred. Or maybe it's especially about student-centredness, because there's all this pressure to be engaging, compete with digital devices, make each class session meaningful? I don't know!
That's really interesting. I do think there's something interesting going on where introverts are attracted to, and often good at, teaching roles: we find them rewarding but also draining.
Having known you for a few years, I knew you’d bring this up—and I’m so glad you did.
As an introvert, the biggest challenge I face in a work setting is making myself heard. There’s a bit of background to this, so bear with me.
I was a quiet child, quiet but content in my own head—a happy place. However, I grew up surrounded by chatty cousins. My well-meaning mother, worried about my silence, would urge me to speak up, not realising how difficult that was for me. I took it as a challenge. My first step? Study those talkative relatives and figure out what they talked about. After careful observation, I realized something: people talk about anything. Literally anything. That didn’t seem so hard.
Armed with this insight, I stepped into my group of cousins, ready to join in. But a new problem arose—when do you speak in a lively, fast-paced conversation? Everyone was talking and laughing, and I found myself waiting for a pause, a moment of silence, to jump in.
I soon realized that if I kept waiting for the perfect gap, I’d never get a chance to speak. So, I started interjecting. I carried this rude habit well into adulthood.
I also realised what happens when you’re always waiting for that perfect moment to speak:
1. The conversation moves on, and your bright idea—your valuable opinion—remains stuck in your head.
2. You’re too busy thinking about what you want to say instead of actively listening.
3. And the most frustrating one—an extrovert beats you to it. They voice that clever question or brilliant idea you were just about to share, and now it’s their idea.
Fast-forward to my professional life, and I still find myself searching for that elusive gap. Some considerate extroverted colleagues recognize this and invite me to share my thoughts with a simple, “What do you think?” But not everyone is that in tune with others, and those invitations don’t always come. Plus, the power dynamic now shifts to the person inviting you to speak.
I’ve found that I do much better when I’m chairing a meeting. The role gives me both the space and the authority to speak. I’ve also discovered that I am ok with public speaking. It’s your stage, you dictate the rules.
One would think that, at this stage in my career, I’d have mastered the art of making myself heard. Yet here I am, still grappling with the same challenge I faced as a child.
So, to my fellow introverts—have you cracked the code? How do you ensure your voice is heard in meetings? I’d love to hear your thoughts.
These are wonderful observations Sarika. Thank you for sharing them.
I think you’re right that it’s everyone’s responsibility to ensure that everyone’s voice is heard (and I’ve written about that here https://letter.adamsandell.com/p/good-meetings-exist). But that doesn’t help if others are neglecting that responsibility.
I find body language useful—making it clear you have something you’re waiting to share. Even a slightly raised hand, indicating you’re waiting your turn.
But people who think before they speak are disadvantaged here, and as a result, everyone misses out. Those who think out loud, speaking before the thought is fully-formulated, often dominate.
I'm not sure if I'm introverted or extroverted. Maybe there's more to it than I think.
I do a lot of training both in person and online, and I'm pretty comfortable talking in front of a crowd. I enjoy training people and speaking to audiences. But when it comes to one-on-one interactions with strangers, I'm not as comfortable and try to avoid them. Like, when I get on a plane, I pop in my earbuds to dodge conversations with my seatmates. I don't get super anxious about meeting new people for work, but I don't really enjoy it and would rather not do it. So, I don't really seek out new personal relationships, and I'm perfectly happy playing golf outside with a small group or by myself, or just chilling at home with my dogs.
So, am I an extrovert who doesn't like one-on-one interactions and prefers group settings? Or does that make me an introvert? Or maybe I don't fit into either category and I just don't care for small talk?
I don't know, but I've wondered about it. And I have wondered if others think I am introverted (or aloof) because I don't care to engage much.
Great topic! And I like the idea of a spectrum between introvert and extravert. And I’d add that it’s multi-axed, because sometimes the extravert prefers being more introverted. I’m a university professor and an extravert by nature. I love performing before a classroom or room of colleagues. I’m comfortable in front of a class of 30 or an auditorium of 150. But I love the small group graduate seminar of 8-10 or “Brynstorming” with 3-5 of my PhD students. And sometimes I seek out the focused 1-on-1 in mentoring, or just my own thoughts in my writing on Substack. I’m also very aware of my extravert personality and intensity can be overpowering, so have learned to moderate my enthusiasm and even ask my family and friends to tell me to shut up, and I take that as caring, not as aggression. So I’d say that sometimes I’m intra even if often I’m extra, and they come and go depending on the context, and my mood.
Yes, it's certainly more complicated than pop psychology would have you believe. I'm a hardcore introvert but the thing I most enjoy is keeping an audience of several hundred entertained, thinking and learning for fifty minutes. But then I need to go somewhere quiet for a while afterwards.
Your point about being an extrovert in a group of introverts is well-made. A nice illustration of how it helps us all to be aware of how we may differ from others, and to manage it—and celebrate it.
Kia ora Adam, I am definitely an introvert, and it can make my work life a bit draining at times. In academia, introversion makes networking difficult, especially because it doesn't feel like the "productive work" of sitting down and writing, or getting through the endless stack of papers to read. Networking and other meetings often lead to more opportunities and meetings, which can be daunting. My research is with Indigenous peoples (Māori), which I identify partly as, and Māori culture is very community-minded which I feel a bit hard sometimes, having grown up in an individualistic western household. By undertaking research with Māori, I have committed to becoming "a known face" in the community, learning the language, and building relationships with the community - these are positive things, but do lead to a lot more filling up of my calendar, which makes me feel a bit overwhelmed. In my clinical work, introversion isn't too bad. In fact like yourself, I've found it helps me connect more deeply with individual patients. But when it comes to CPD like peer review meetings, and staff socials (a hazard of any work place), it all gets a bit draining.
I've found that time autonomy is very important to me, and I quickly get unhappy and resentful if I'm out and about too much. So, if I start to feel that moodiness coming on, or I can see that I've got a busy few weeks ahead, I'll schedule a Selfish Day. The definition of Selfish Day is that it wouldn't matter if I stayed in my pjs all day - ie. no commitments or plans. I can leave the house if I want to, but essentially there is not reason why I should HAVE to get dressed for the day.
Yau Chelsea. What a wonderful reply. I love your Selfish Days (though 'selfish' sounds pejorative — I'd call them Me Days!). May I quote you in a future article?
Sure :) I wanted to call them Selfish Days because I wanted to break my mindset that being selfish is bad - because it is not morally wrong to put your own needs first (depending on the context). It's wrong to put your WANTS before other people's needs, but I needed to learn that I'm not a bad person for looking after myself like that. I needed to reframe the word 'Selfish' into a more healthily assertive term, because I've always felt that asking for things, or saying no to things, made me a bad person.
I am not really sure where I fall on the spectrum, but I think I at least lean introvert. One thing I have noticed, as you already alluded to in the post, is that after teaching (university) I often need a period of decompression, and it can be hard to come straight home to a houseful of kids who also require a lot of positive energy.
I think this has become more noticeable in the age of ubiquitous powerpoint, because teaching feels more and more like it's supposed to be an entertaining performance, even as we're also always trying to make it more and more student centred. Or maybe it's especially about student-centredness, because there's all this pressure to be engaging, compete with digital devices, make each class session meaningful? I don't know!
That's really interesting. I do think there's something interesting going on where introverts are attracted to, and often good at, teaching roles: we find them rewarding but also draining.
Adam,
Having known you for a few years, I knew you’d bring this up—and I’m so glad you did.
As an introvert, the biggest challenge I face in a work setting is making myself heard. There’s a bit of background to this, so bear with me.
I was a quiet child, quiet but content in my own head—a happy place. However, I grew up surrounded by chatty cousins. My well-meaning mother, worried about my silence, would urge me to speak up, not realising how difficult that was for me. I took it as a challenge. My first step? Study those talkative relatives and figure out what they talked about. After careful observation, I realized something: people talk about anything. Literally anything. That didn’t seem so hard.
Armed with this insight, I stepped into my group of cousins, ready to join in. But a new problem arose—when do you speak in a lively, fast-paced conversation? Everyone was talking and laughing, and I found myself waiting for a pause, a moment of silence, to jump in.
I soon realized that if I kept waiting for the perfect gap, I’d never get a chance to speak. So, I started interjecting. I carried this rude habit well into adulthood.
I also realised what happens when you’re always waiting for that perfect moment to speak:
1. The conversation moves on, and your bright idea—your valuable opinion—remains stuck in your head.
2. You’re too busy thinking about what you want to say instead of actively listening.
3. And the most frustrating one—an extrovert beats you to it. They voice that clever question or brilliant idea you were just about to share, and now it’s their idea.
Fast-forward to my professional life, and I still find myself searching for that elusive gap. Some considerate extroverted colleagues recognize this and invite me to share my thoughts with a simple, “What do you think?” But not everyone is that in tune with others, and those invitations don’t always come. Plus, the power dynamic now shifts to the person inviting you to speak.
I’ve found that I do much better when I’m chairing a meeting. The role gives me both the space and the authority to speak. I’ve also discovered that I am ok with public speaking. It’s your stage, you dictate the rules.
One would think that, at this stage in my career, I’d have mastered the art of making myself heard. Yet here I am, still grappling with the same challenge I faced as a child.
So, to my fellow introverts—have you cracked the code? How do you ensure your voice is heard in meetings? I’d love to hear your thoughts.
These are wonderful observations Sarika. Thank you for sharing them.
I think you’re right that it’s everyone’s responsibility to ensure that everyone’s voice is heard (and I’ve written about that here https://letter.adamsandell.com/p/good-meetings-exist). But that doesn’t help if others are neglecting that responsibility.
I find body language useful—making it clear you have something you’re waiting to share. Even a slightly raised hand, indicating you’re waiting your turn.
But people who think before they speak are disadvantaged here, and as a result, everyone misses out. Those who think out loud, speaking before the thought is fully-formulated, often dominate.
That makes sense.
I'm not sure if I'm introverted or extroverted. Maybe there's more to it than I think.
I do a lot of training both in person and online, and I'm pretty comfortable talking in front of a crowd. I enjoy training people and speaking to audiences. But when it comes to one-on-one interactions with strangers, I'm not as comfortable and try to avoid them. Like, when I get on a plane, I pop in my earbuds to dodge conversations with my seatmates. I don't get super anxious about meeting new people for work, but I don't really enjoy it and would rather not do it. So, I don't really seek out new personal relationships, and I'm perfectly happy playing golf outside with a small group or by myself, or just chilling at home with my dogs.
So, am I an extrovert who doesn't like one-on-one interactions and prefers group settings? Or does that make me an introvert? Or maybe I don't fit into either category and I just don't care for small talk?
I don't know, but I've wondered about it. And I have wondered if others think I am introverted (or aloof) because I don't care to engage much.
Sounds to me like you’re an introvert with social skills.
Great topic! And I like the idea of a spectrum between introvert and extravert. And I’d add that it’s multi-axed, because sometimes the extravert prefers being more introverted. I’m a university professor and an extravert by nature. I love performing before a classroom or room of colleagues. I’m comfortable in front of a class of 30 or an auditorium of 150. But I love the small group graduate seminar of 8-10 or “Brynstorming” with 3-5 of my PhD students. And sometimes I seek out the focused 1-on-1 in mentoring, or just my own thoughts in my writing on Substack. I’m also very aware of my extravert personality and intensity can be overpowering, so have learned to moderate my enthusiasm and even ask my family and friends to tell me to shut up, and I take that as caring, not as aggression. So I’d say that sometimes I’m intra even if often I’m extra, and they come and go depending on the context, and my mood.
Yes, it's certainly more complicated than pop psychology would have you believe. I'm a hardcore introvert but the thing I most enjoy is keeping an audience of several hundred entertained, thinking and learning for fifty minutes. But then I need to go somewhere quiet for a while afterwards.
Your point about being an extrovert in a group of introverts is well-made. A nice illustration of how it helps us all to be aware of how we may differ from others, and to manage it—and celebrate it.