It's not a disease. It's not a character defect. It's not a maladjustment. It's not abnormal or immoral. It just is. Sometimes it's even a gift. It took me about 40 years to figure that out.
It's a very talkative world we live in. When I was in elementary school and the teachers wrote comments in those boxes on your report card, I always got the comments: "Susan (my childhood name) is very quiet. Doesn't talk much." I "played well with others." I even "worked well with others." I got a lot of Outstandings in my schoolwork, and no UNSatisfactories. But still, it was if they had to say
something, find some concern. "Susan is very quiet." Year after year. Or those adolescent-nightmare moments when the teacher called on me and said, "Susan, you're very quiet, what do
you think?" and I wanted to melt right into the linoleum.
As I got into high school, college and even seminary, it was still apparently a problem. "Why are you so
quiet?" I was asked repeatedly by teachers, students and friends. It only caused me more anxiety to try to be something I wasn't:
talkative. Of course, in college and seminary especially, part of my grade was based on class participation, and so no matter how smart I was or how well I did in the coursework, I always got graded down because of my lack of speaking out. I was terrified of speaking in front of large groups, especially without a script! And I was never really encouraged to think for myself growing up, or to have an opinion worth sharing, so I wasn't ready to share anything that I thought, lest it be torn apart. On
a high school choir trip, I was voted "Quietest Member on the Trip," and given a whistle as a prize. I was mortified. At church camp, I was asked to lead a prayer group and my first night, I simply froze up. Couldn't think of a thing to say, and was therefore ashamed that I couldn't be a good Christian example. Fortunately, in that case, I had a very kind, gracious pastor-camp counselor who understood that my gifts lay elsewhere, and he assigned me things to do more in accordance with my personality. He assured me that being quiet was not a character defect and certainly didn't make me less of a Christian or beloved child of God. He was probably the first adult in my life that made me feel truly accepted and valued for who I was. His name is Ed. We still keep in touch, 33 years later. You just don't forget something like that.
Obviously when I became a pastor, I had to start speaking. I clearly remember my first sermon 23 years ago. I was trembling, nauseous, sweating profusely, my hands were ice cold and I could barely breathe. But I made it, and got a lot of praise for that first sermon. That gave me confidence, and I went on to preach for 20 years. It became one of the biggest gifts that brought me more out of myself and made me feel strong. I loved preaching! It was a high. It was a chance to step out a little more, be more verbally expressive, even use a little drama and flair. It wasn't that I was being someone else; obviously preaching was a big part of me, it was a gift. But outside of the pulpit, I was less expressive. I was still quiet. I still felt more comfortable with people one on one rather than big groups. I wasn't one to "work a crowd." I'd sit down with a few and visit. Some people thought I was snotty. Some accused me of being rude, or "she talked to so-and-so but didn't talk to me..." I gravitated toward kind faces.
I have never been good at small talk. Being in the ministry for 20 years I had to cultivate some skill at it, mind you, but I still don't like it. I'd rather be honest, real, talk about things that are important to me or the other person. I still don't like big crowds. I'd much rather visit with a small group of friends, play a game, have a nice dinner, or play badminton or something. Even if I did drink more than an occasional glass of wine, I wouldn't feel comfortable in a bar scene where it's noisy and people get loud. I tried karoake once when it was still a new thing, and I may as well have stood up there in my underwear for how comfortable I felt. I let a guy get me drunk once just to see what the fuss was all about, and I didn't get it. I never felt so sick in my life, and I didn't understand why anyone would do it on purpose.
My idea of a good time is a Friday night at home with my family, or a couple of good friends, talking, dinner, maybe a game. We watch a lot of movies. I could spend hours reading, sitting outside. Spending a whole weekend with my husband and my daughter is pure heaven for me. We don't even have to do much. Home is my refuge. There I can let it all out. I can be myself completely and know that I am loved for who I am. I can be goofy and silly. If I'm mad, I can express that, or I can cry and complain. I can curl up with one or all of my three cats and experience pure bliss.
Call me boring. Call me weird (many people have over the years). I still get accused of being a snob, or "hard to get to know" (I hate that one-- ask me anything, I might just tell you), or just the tiresome old one, "too quiet." How can one be "too quiet"? I usually only speak when I have something to say, which I have found to be a very wise practice. Too many people talk for the sake of hearing themselves talk, and usually say a lot of dumb things-- even hurtful, painful things. If you talk less, you tend to listen more. You notice more about what's going on. It's taken me till the middle of my life to realize that being quiet is just who I am. Because of it, I'm also known as a good listener. People trust me, for the most part. I don't like to be around a lot of talkative people for too long, I get a headache and I need to go someplace quiet and breathe. I am very uncomfortable in loud, noisy, crowded places. I don't fit in in most places. But I've realized, I'm not meant to fit in, I'm meant to be me. And I am quiet.
I don't dislike loud people or talkative people. Some of my closest friends are talkative. The word of the day is Extrovert, and I am Introvert. It's Yin and Yang. You need both of us. One is not better than the other. We're just different. You can go to your party and dance on the tables if you enjoy that, but don't be offended if I'd rather have a quiet dinner with my family or friends or spend hours reading a good book, or listening to fabulous music. I am not "too quiet," Mrs. Grade School Teacher, Ms. Cheerleader or Mrs. Class President. I am me. I'm a Poet, a Writer, a Singer, a Reader, a Good Friend, a Thinker, a Muser, a Mystic, a Pray-er, etc. There's even a Preacher/Public Speaker lurking in me if you wake it up in me, but the Poet is bigger. So I'll have my glass of wine at home in my living room and tell you a fun story about the time I sang "You Don't Bring Me Flowers" after several beers many years ago with a guy I barely knew and didn't need to know after that, but I won't relive it. Though I may write a hell of a story about it.
