Created on purpose, for a purpose.

I’ve always been an introvert.
And that has made me different.
Sometimes deeply misunderstood.

The way I speak, the way I show up in the world, the way I process life—it doesn’t always land how I mean it to. Today, I received an email that stirred something in me. It caused me to pause and reflect again on how I relate to others and how others relate to me.

I’ve always been a bit blunt—never mean-spirited, just… direct. And paired with introversion, that straightforwardness has often led to misinterpretation. Still, I believe—deeply—that I was formed this way on purpose. That none of it is an accident.

People don’t grow out of introversion. This quiet, inward-focused wiring doesn’t just appear one day in adulthood—it’s been there since the beginning.
So yes, this introverted adult was once an introverted child.
And what’s true of one is true of both.

There are still a lot of misconceptions about introverts. We’re not anti-social. We’re not friendless. We’re not broken extroverts who just need to “get out more.” We simply experience social life differently.

Getting to know someone new costs us energy. It’s not that we don’t want meaningful relationships—we do. We just don’t need many. One or two close, trusted friends is enough. Still, we’re often judged for not being “more social,” for not casting a wider net.

We need solitude like others need air.
A room with the door closed isn’t a red flag—it’s a refuge.
It’s not withdrawal; it’s restoration.
Time alone helps us recover, reflect, and reconnect with ourselves. It gives us space to breathe, to think, to simply be.

When we do attend gatherings, we’ll likely stick close to the few people we already know and dive into deep conversations. Small talk? Not our favorite. Give us something rich, something real, and we’ll stay all night.

As kids, many of us found joy in solitary or creative play. Books were safe places. Stories made sense. Writing, music, art—these were our languages. Even now, we often prefer quiet forms of expression and observation. Before jumping into a group activity, we hang back—not out of shyness, but so we can get a feel for the space first.

We tend to be quiet, especially in unfamiliar settings.
We don’t crave the spotlight.
We don’t brag, even if we’ve achieved something meaningful.
And sometimes, we hide what we know—because attention can feel heavy, even when it’s kind.

Introverts often have two selves: the private one and the public one.
So if we seem animated at home but reserved in public, it’s not duplicity—it’s safety.

We listen deeply.
We make eye contact when others speak and rarely interrupt.
But when it’s our turn to talk, we may need a moment—because we tend to think before we speak. Sometimes we even rehearse what we want to say in our minds before saying it out loud. This can make us seem slow to respond, but it’s not hesitation—it’s care.

We’d usually rather write than speak.
And when we do speak, we hope it matters.
If we’re passionate about a topic, we’ll talk about it for hours—but we really don’t want to be interrupted mid-thought or mid-task. Focus is sacred.

Socializing, especially in large or unfamiliar groups, can be draining. Even if we enjoy it, we’ll feel it later—emotionally and physically. We may need time to decompress or simply sit in silence for a while. Crowded places, too much noise, too many people… it can feel overwhelming.

We’re territorial.
We like our space.
We can be slow to share feelings, and public mistakes? Mortifying.

But we’re also deeply observant. We notice the little things—tone, body language, undercurrents others miss. We carry rich inner worlds and are often processing more than we let on. It may take days, even weeks, before we’re ready to talk about something that happened. But when we do, it’s been sifted, reflected upon, and held with intention.

We crave consistency more than change—but when change is necessary, we navigate it best with time and clarity.

Being an introvert hasn’t always been easy.
It’s made me vulnerable to judgment, criticism, and misunderstanding.
It’s left me feeling out of place in spaces that celebrate loudness, quickness, or performance.

But I wouldn’t trade it.
Because I believe I was created with intention—crafted by the same God who knit together extroverts in all their vibrancy. He formed me, too. With quieter colors. With slower rhythms. With deep wells of thought and fierce loyalty that may not be loud, but are profoundly real.

Thank You, Father, for making me who You wanted me to be.
Introversion is not a flaw to fix—
It’s a design to honor.

“Inside myself is a place where I live all alone, and that is where I renew my springs that never dry up.”
— Pearl S. Buck