Introverting with age
Musicians are required to socialise and to be around people to make money. But what about those of us who feel they are becoming ever-more introverted?
By Hattie Butterworth
‘No you aren’t – you can’t be!’ is what many people say when I tell them I am introverted. So I doubt myself, second guess the way I come across and think about ways I could appear more like the person I feel inside. But the outer version of me and the inner version differ vastly. On the outside I am confident, talkative and open. But when I’m alone, the colours are more vibrant in my life. The stillness is like water on a hot day and shutting the door from the outside is the greatest relief I can feel.
It hasn’t always been like this. Anxiety made me hate my own brain – the silence of my brain. I was scared of the places it could go and what it might do. I didn’t trust it, and so missed out on the bliss of my inner existence. That’s because it wasn’t bliss, and so filling up life with people, places and noise felt preferable to the void of time spent alone.
Still, the person I portray to others now isn’t false. I do like bursts of community and creative energy. I love interviewing people and listening to their stories. But that bursting of love is only possible in small increments. In professional contexts, people are ok; in personal contexts, I prefer to avoid them.
A lot of the time I’m automatically thinking about how I really hate people. Hate what they expect me to do and be. I struggle with their noise and intensity and there are so few people on this earth that I would rather be with than alone. This makes dating a chore of boredom, desperation and fear. ‘I would be having more fun on my own,’ I think as I feign a smile and work out how long is long enough before I cut the evening short.
Of course I don’t really hate them, but I hate what I’m expected to do. How many people I’m expected to meet and the socialising I’m supposed to be doing at the age of 27. Then there’s the joy of a cancelled plan. Please don’t ever apologise for cancelling on me. I will genuinely love you even more for it – for giving me the unexpected bliss of solitude at short notice. I see cancelling on others as a gift I am bestowing upon them: to be rid of my company and buy themselves a nice coffee. Not everyone sees it that way.
INFP! My badge! It means Introverted, Intuitive, Feeling, and Prospecting. Have you ever taken the Myers Briggs personality test? (take it here) It made me realise my internal monologue: ‘you enjoy participating in team activities’ DISAGREE. ‘You enjoy solitary hobbies or activities more than group ones.’ AGREE. You usually prefer to be around others rather than on your own. I mean, you get the idea.
And then: You would love a job that requires you to work alone most of the time. I would, I do. How can introverted musicians stand the working world? We have the dream scenario of being encouraged to practice in solitude, and then as soon as it’s time to make money, we can’t do that in solitude. We have to teach, facilitate workshops, rehearse, perform, mingle, go to the pub after the goddamned concert.
I didn’t think about how my introversion could become a barrier to the reality of life as a professional cellist. And so being a writer is at least 10x more comfortable for the introverts. How do introverted performers cope? I’d love you to tell me.