Final Draft - Solitude Is Bliss

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           It’s Friday night and I’m at a party. Despite the warm August air and cheery banter of my high school classmates, I’m less than happy. If anything, I feel lonely and self-conscious. I made some small talk earlier on with a German exchange student and a girl whom I went to elementary school with, but that only lasted for twenty minutes. Now, students are forming tighter circles of conversation and I’m becoming a mere observer of the scene. I begin to ask myself questions: Why am I the only one who’s having a horrible time? Why is it so difficult for me to talk to people? Am I abnormal because of these things? I ponder all of this for a while, until I finally decide to sneak out and walk home alone.

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           I grew up as an only child with an overprotective mother. At first, this frustrated me. I desperately wanted to play outside with other elementary school kids and go to their sleepovers and parties. With time, however, I learned to quell this desire and enjoy the quiet time that I spent by myself instead, reading books, playing with stuffed animals, and watching cartoons. I always felt completely at ease in these situations––free to think and do whatever I pleased without fear of outside judgment. This often led to moments of self-discovery. I recall on one occasion that I became curious about a keyboard that was collecting dust in our guest room when I was five years old. I decided to pick it up and play it one day, producing a cacophony of notes that only I could find to be pleasing. If not for this experimentation in my alone time, I would’ve never known that I took an interest in piano––a hobby that I ended up pursuing for eight years.

           After some time, I noticed that I was somewhat different in the way that I behaved in comparison with my peers. I was never rambunctious or silly like the rest of them. Instead, I was quite serious in my demeanor and also very quiet and studious. My elementary school teachers loathed the fact that I rarely spoke up in class. Nearly every time I tagged along on parent-teacher conference nights, they would comment that they wished that I could “just speak up a little more.” Once I began taking gymnastics lessons, I was faced with a similar predicament. “I swear, one of these days I’m going to force you to have a shouting match with me,” my coach would tell me on nights when I was particularly quiet. I’d always smile a bit when she said this so that she wouldn’t think I was being impolite or disrespectful, but I was terrified on the inside.

            Everything became worse once I entered middle school. Suddenly, it seemed that everyone’s confidence had swelled––everyone’s except for mine, at least. Students in my English class offered their opinions on difficult literature without hesitation, while I could only mumble responses when forced. During lunchtime, I politely talked with any of the new students from other elementary schools who approached me, but otherwise I couldn’t bring myself to start conversations with anyone. I didn’t socialize much outside of school either. Besides attending gymnastics practices on weeknights, I stayed home the majority of the time, either studying or reading. Those few times when I did go to dances or sleepovers, I found them to be somewhat enjoyable, but not anything terribly exciting.

            When I noticed that others were ridiculing my behavior in subtle ways, I began to berate myself for my personality as well. The most common criticism came from my peers, who complained about the fact that I rarely tagged along with them on their outings. Initially, they attributed this to my overprotective parents, but later on they made jabs that I found to be much more personal, such as the fact that I was a “studious Asian.” My teachers also made somewhat rude comments about my personality, especially in front of the class. I still remember one incident in which my eighth grade computer applications teacher incessantly criticized my “under confident” posture and “inaudible” speaking voice throughout the entirety of my ten-minute long presentation. When I got home that day, I cried for an hour and convinced myself that something was wrong with me. Though the rest of my teachers weren’t nearly as cruel, many of them did pull me aside after class at least once to tell me that I should “stop being shy” because I was “too smart for that.” Again, I felt as though I was abnormal––being assertive and extroverted was apparently something that I was supposed to become overnight, and yet I just couldn’t do it.  

            I reached my lowest point in my first year of high school: my parents divorced, my mother left, and I quit gymnastics. I felt as if I had lost most of my identity––I had spent so much time with my mother throughout my life, and I had assumed from a young age that I would continue to be a competitive gymnast through college. At school, I was lonelier than ever. No one was aware of my situation, and even if they had been, I knew that none of them would have understood the way that I felt. Often times, I was too depressed to hold genuine conversations with other people, and I rarely felt like leaving the house. On top of all of this, I was still struggling to get over my shyness. I felt more reclusive than ever.

            When sophomore year arrived, I was still ashamed of my introverted self. That is, until I came upon the work of an Australian band named Tame Impala at a record store by chance. The first couple of times I played their albums, I didn’t pay much attention to the lyrics. However, later on, I did listen more closely, and I discovered that nearly every one of their songs addresses either loneliness, social anxiety, or shyness. I found all of this to be strange––since introversion and shyness aren’t typically considered to be ideal topics for songwriting––but I also felt incredibly grateful. For the first time, I didn’t feel alone in the way that I felt. Finally, I realized that other people were facing the same struggles as I was in trying to become less shy in extroverted environments. Additionally, I discovered that I shouldn’t feel ashamed about my introversion, as being introverted had its own advantages. In the song “Solitude Is Bliss,” Tame Impala express this idea, explaining through their lyrics that spending time alone allows people to understand themselves better and to think without the influence of others’ judgment. In many ways, I did think that I had a more concrete sense of self than my peers, as I often noticed that my tastes were more selective and that I was less likely to acquiesce to peer pressure. Before, I had never recognized this as a personal strength.

Tame Impala’s “Solitude Is Bliss” from Innerspeaker (2010).

This is essentially the idea that I was learning to accept.
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            Though Tame Impala did help me to accept myself as an introvert, I was still curious to learn more about introversion in general­––how beneficial it is, how detrimental it is, why it is perceived so negatively in countries such as the United States, and other such questions. I recall that I read a variety of Internet articles on the topic during my sophomore and junior years. One of which was a piece that I read when I was a junior called “Better Off Alone” from a website called Rookie Magazine, in which contributor Hazel Cills delineates her own experiences and sentiments in regards to her introversion. I remember that this excerpt affected me most: “…It’s not that introverts don’t like other people, it’s just that socializing isn’t necessarily a huge source of our happiness. We take pleasure in solitary activities. For us, sometimes even ordinary everyday questions like ‘How are you?’ can cause a tiresome amount of consideration” (Cills).  Previously, I had always felt as though I was abnormal because I found socialization––particularly small talk with strangers––to be emotionally draining. Cills, however, showed me otherwise: I was perfectly normal for not finding parties and outings with large groups of friends to be enjoyable, and for instead finding the time that I spent alone to be more pleasant. This fact was relieving to me, and within several months, I learned to care much less when other people complained to me that I didn’t socialize enough.

            Another time during my junior year, I read a New York Times opinion article about shyness as an evolutionary mechanism for biology class. Though the piece focuses mostly on scientific facts, it also discusses shyness in general, such as how Americans treat it as an illness despite the fact that is has many advantages. As the author states, studies show that we perceive “fast and frequent talkers as more competent, likable, and even smarter than slow ones” (Cain). This explained to me quite well why many of my teachers were frustrated with me in the past––by getting good grades, I defied the stereotype that competence and intelligence are characteristics that are most often associated with extroverts. Still, it frustrated me that these teachers weren’t willing to take the time to consider the advantages of my introversion––listening closely to others, paying attention to details in my work, and staying focused––before deciding to call me out. In all, this article made me feel more comfortable with the way that I presented myself in classrooms at school. Finally, I realized that my intelligence and introversion weren’t two forces that were working against each other; rather, they actually benefitted one another.

An accurate representation of how I feel when I spend
time alone.
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            One last article that I read during my junior year that still resonates with me is a piece titled “Accepting Yourself as an Introvert and Loving Your Inner Tortoise.” Unlike the previous articles, this one provides direct advice for coming to terms with introversion and actually celebrating it. One short paragraph in particular struck me: “Thinking deeply gives us new insights. It helps us see new relationships between things. The solitude that we love is also the spring-board for our creativity. It gives us the chance to imagine and re-imagine our world” (Kaushal). All of this is incredibly true. As I explained previously, spending time alone provided me with a sense of freedom––a time to explore and think about what interested me personally without having to worry about others’ thoughts. I read whatever books interested me, listened to whatever music I enjoyed, and spent time doing anything else that intrigued me. I also spent quite a bit of time thinking and reflecting, occasionally writing in a journal when I was inspired. By reading this article, I finally felt as though someone else understood me. Often times, spending time alone is perceived as lonely or somewhat pathetic in comparison with socializing, when in reality that is not the case. It was nice to find another person who recognizes the merits of solitude.

            Though I do feel more at ease with myself now––especially after reading articles such as these––I realize that many other people still feel negatively about introverts. In fact, many of the pressures that I experience now in regards to my introversion are actually more extreme than the ones I previously mentioned. For instance, many of my classmates binge drink and consume any number of drugs now that they’re seniors in high school. And because this mostly goes on at parties––parties that I don’t find to be enjoyable because I’m introverted and therefore rarely attend––I’m subsequently labeled as “straight laced” (i.e. prudish) by the majority of the students in my grade. Though this doesn’t bother me nearly as much now as it would have in the past, it’s still quite frustrating to be ostracized for something so trite. On the other end of the spectrum, I learned this past fall while applying to colleges that admissions officers and scholarship donors now value leadership skills as much as, if not more than, grades and standardized test scores. And interestingly enough, I was nominated for a full-ride leadership scholarship at Ohio University solely on the basis of my grades. I was denied the scholarship––unsurprisingly––but I’m still shocked by the fact that they automatically assumed I was extroverted because of my high GPA, especially since this contradicts what a stereotypical “nerd” should be. However, I must admit that I fear that all of this is indicative of something greater––particularly that I’m not as likely to succeed as other college students unless I constantly put up an extroverted front.

            Through exploring, experiencing, failing, reflecting, and discovering, I’ve become the person who I am today: still very timid and slightly frustrated by my shyness, but ultimately much more accepting of the fact that I’m introverted. I know that I still have a long way to go before I’ll feel entirely comfortable with who I am. However, when I reflect on those moments when I cried over class presentations and comments that other people made about me several years ago, I realize how much I have grown since then. In general, all of this makes me feel optimistic about my future, especially when it comes to my time in college next year.

What I'm still trying to learn.
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Works Cited

Cain, Susan. “Shyness: Evolutionary Tactic?” New York Times. New York Times, 25 June 2011. Web. 27 April 2014.

Cills, Hazel. “Better Off Alone.” Rookie Magazine. Rookie, 4 June 2013. Web. 27 April 2014.
Kaushal, Ritu. “Accepting Yourself as an Introvert and Loving Your Inner Tortoise.” Tiny Buddha. Tiny Buddha, n.d. Web. 27 April 2014.