An introverted expatriated Emily

It was recently recommended to me that I read a book, Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking, by Susan Cain.  This recommendation was made to me by my parents, both of who are some serious world-champion introverts.  They told me it would be like reading a psychological profile tailored just for me, as it had felt to them.  I’m a stellar, gold-star introvert, as are most of my family, and my boyfriend.  I would much prefer to stay in with a good book and a cup of tea every single night of the week than go out and socialize; and that’s pretty much what I did while I lived in DC.  (My DC friends are rolling their eyes right now in recognition of this familiar Emily trope.)  After a long week of work, I recharge best by being by myself.  I have few, very dear set of friends, but I panic and lose focus in big groups.  There’s nothing I dislike more than small talk.  I actually have to give myself pep talks before going to parties or using the telephone.

Living as an expatriate in a land where I don’t speak the language is both a blessing and a curse to my introverted self. 

Sometimes I find myself wishing I were more extrovertly-oriented so that I wouldn’t care so much about bumbling my French.  So that it would be so easy for me to strike up a friendship with new people I meet – French- or English-speaking.  And so that asking the chicken man to cut my chicken in four wouldn’t merit a blog post, but it would have been simply one more thing I did that day.  For years, I’ve wished that I could stop being so incredibly awkward when I meet new people, especially people with whom I want to be friends.  I wish that I could march into any situation, job interview, audition, etc, and literally fake it until I make it.  But I meticulously prepare and visualize every possible scenario, and I don’t reach out and grab opportunities unless I’m entirely sure I’m qualified or have done enough research.  I wonder how many great things have passed me by because of this.  On the other hand, I know my in-depth preparation leaves me feeling far more satisfied in any experience.  My first real memory of this was when I was maybe 9 or 10.  My family used to visit New York City every February or so to catch a New York Philharmonic concert and an opera at the Met.  When I was young enough, I would fall asleep on my dad’s shoulder, and wonder what I had heard the next day.  I’m pretty sure I slept through Strauss’ Death and Transfiguration one year.  But then my dad suggested that I listen to the concert pieces before we traveled so I would know what to expect.  I did this, and I was suddenly so excited to hear pieces of music live that I never slept through another concert again. 

But how does one prepare to go live in another country and try to get by on limited knowledge of the language?  How does an introvert especially learn to cope with all the new, new, new?  I’m drawing heavily on my years of music performing experience.  Even though I’m about as introverted as a person gets, I adore performing.  I love being on stage performing a piece of music that I’ve spent hours learning, practicing, and perfecting.  I get a huge rush from accomplishing something and presenting a beautiful piece, and I’ve never really suffered from stage fright.  But at the end of any performance, I’m happy enough to go back alone to my room and chill with a beer and a movie. 

Living in France is going to be like a performance, although a far more difficult one than I’ve ever given.  I can’t possibly perfect my repertoire because it will take time for me to converse unhaltingly in French.  Yet the show must go on!  As much as I’d like to, I can’t hole myself up in our new apartment and stuff my face with baguettes and call that an expat experience. 

From this angle, I see a very great advantage to being an introverted expatriate.  I think I will experience this change of life far more deeply and maybe more meaningfully than an extrovert.  I don’t mean that to sound self-congratulatory, and I can’t profess to say how an extrovert might approach this situation.  But I think I observe more, and I try to pick up social cues after standing on the sidelines rather than just barging in and announcing my American-ness. 

Just to round this out – it’s a blessing to be an introvert because I’m confronted with a lot of alone time.  Or else it’s just Ben and me.  After reading this book, I know that I would be going crazy from the almost total lack of social structure if I were an extrovert, but the lonely time suits me just fine.  To be sure, I’m looking forward to making new friends, and I think our lives and our relationship will be enriched when we spread ourselves a bit more socially.  But I’m thankful that we’re both totally ok with retreating to separate corners of the apartment to read rather than only one of us requiring socialization with the quietly recharging other.

My inner peace will is also looking forward to being restored when we finally move on Friday.  I can’t wait to beast together some Ikea furniture and take some pictures…