Holiday cheer can take a toll on those of us with limited energy for socializing and a high need for quiet.
No season is more demanding for us than the most extroverted time of the year, which starts with Halloween and doesn't end until Jan. 2 - at which point introverts all over the country will go home, shut the door and not speak to anyone for at least a month.
While extroverts gain energy from being around people, introverts are drained of it. So the action-packed holiday season is tough.
Yet we want to be part of it. We love our friends and family and holiday fun. The problem is that if we push ourselves too hard for too long, we get cranky and irritable. Peevish. And no fun for anyone, including ourselves.
Here's how to avoid that:
FOR PARTIES
The bathroom break: Every introvert alive knows the exquisite pleasure of stepping from the clamour of a party into the bathroom and closing the door. You are alone. The din is muffled.
Nobody is in your personal space. Nobody is talking. The bathroom offers quiet sanctuary to let your over-stimulated brain relax. You may or may not need to use the facilities, but you definitely need to go to the bathroom.
The bookshelf back-turn:
Books are familiar friends, quiet friends. You can turn your back on the room for a few minutes to study your host's library, and it's as if the hubbub behind you barely exists. Sometimes I just pretend to look at books to catch my breath.
The busy body: Some introverts like to be kitchen elves, finding glasses, wiping down counters and serving drinks. You meet a lot of people that way, but with purpose. Plus, at most parties, guests tend to gravitate toward the kitchen so you can find yourself in the midst of the action without exerting any mingling effort.
The getaway: Even when you know you've had enough, leaving a party isn't always easy. When they realize you're ready to go, people will want you to believe either 1) you are going to miss the best party ever, or 2) your absence will cause the entire party to collapse in gloom. Neither of these is true. In fact, once the door closes behind you, most people will forget you were even there. No offense, but you know it's true.
So when you feel ready to leave a party, just leave. Don't leave looking tired - leave gleefully, with cheery waves all around, as if you're on your way to another party. If it's a big party, don't say goodbye at all.
Just slip out. Vanish. Poof. You can send a nice thank-you note to your host the next day.
FAMILY GATHERINGS
Fitness escape: I never go on an extended family visit without packing walking shoes. When the walls start closing in on me, I lace them on for exercise. Nobody can argue with that, and it's good for me. I can usually buy an hour of solitude that way.
Hiding in plain sight: A family excursion to a mall affords the opportunity to wander off between the clothing racks, retreat into a dressing room or step alone into a shop. Mysterious allusions to gifts should buy you some alone time. Movies are another escape without escape.
You're together but not.
The pseudo-sacrifice: Volunteer to do the grocery shopping or run to the store for that forgotten ingredient, and you can stroll up and down the aisles, numbed by piped-in music, communing with nothing more taxing than Brussels sprouts and canned pumpkin.
Head space: Sometimes you don't even have to leave the house. A jigsaw puzzle provides respite in the middle of whatever chaos surrounds it.
Working it, you shift your focus from the people to the puzzle, which never natters or nags. I've also found that knitting helps keep some personal space in my brain during those family-just-sit-tin'-around times. I can remain cognizant of everything happening around me and participate, but the little task engages the wandering part of my mind and somehow approximates solitude in a crowd.
Don't feel guilty about any of this. You do everyone a favour when you manage your energy because an overextended introvert is no fun at all.
