An Introvert's Guide to Becoming a Leader, Part One

I’m an introvert.

When I was younger, “introvert” was synonomous with “shy.” I was the girl who would bring a book to social gatherings so I could disappear into a quiet corner and socialize with my best friends, the fictional ones on the pages. (In fact, I still do this sometimes.) As an only child, my best friend was my imagination, and I didn’t really need anyone else.

This hardly means that I didn’t have good friends. There were a number of families I felt very close to while growing up; my pseudo-siblings and “adoptive” parents from my early years still hold a special place in my heart. My parents certainly made efforts to ‘socialize’ me (I sound like I’m a rescued puppy or something), getting me involved wherever they could — art classes, summer day camp, swim lessons, soccer — but I would still rather be reading, or playing imaginary games alone or with a few close friends.

Soccer went particularly poorly: I was afraid of the ball; I much preferred defense to the risks of trying to score and never did score a single goal in two years; I was the girl picking dandelions on the field while the others charged and fought and scored. And what’s more, I didn’t mind — competitive group sports just weren’t for me. Nothing athletic was – even swimming lessons ceased when I a) reached puberty and learned to hate/fear my body and b) balked at learning to dive (“I’m sorry, you want me to throw myself headfirst off of this platform?! Whatever FOR?!”). To this day, I still cannot dive. It’s on my list.I was a sensitive child.

And so it went: I continued to be the little hippie yoga girl who really liked school (the solo learning bit, not the group projects, of course), the girl whose finest 5th grade accomplishment was going from the class to the school to the district to the regional spelling bee, where the stress and the late night got to me (it was at least 8:30pm, I mean, come on), and I tragically started to spell “foreleg” with a “four.” I was one of those girls who loved horses (no, like, more than you do, they are mine) and I definitely knew how to spell the word, so I’m not sure what happened. I won the district-level competition with “vague” (they thought they could trick me, but ohhhh, noooo, I was way too smart for their shenanigans). So what happened?Take that, school board.

I think that besides the exhaustion, and the toll that competition was taking on my gentle, timid ten-year-old self, I was subconsciously afraid of progressing to Nationals, and just wanted this farce to end. I knew I could figure out how to spell most words just fine; why did I have to prove it to the parents of all the other nerds, staring at me with accusing eyes as I bested their precious honor students? (“I’m sorry, you want to put me in a national spotlight, competing against geeks who’ve read the dictionary, when I’m just a girl who likes to read and has a knack for words? Whatever FOR?!”) The farther I made it, the farther I’d fall when I failed. Then everyone would think I was just pretending to be smart, and my poor little introverted soul couldn’t take that risk. I blew at sports; being smart in school was all I had. (Can you believe it took me until college to realize I had anxiety issues?)Does anyone even know what these are anymore?

While I cultivated stronger friendships and threw myself into AP classes in high school, it wasn’t until my junior year that I was apparently ready to come out of my shell. “How would a delicate young snowfox do this?”, you might ask. Did I date the “bad” boys? Nope; despite much longing, I didn’t even have my first kiss until I was 18 and in college. [Insert sympathetic "Awwws" here.] Did I go to the popular kids’ parties and have a coming-of-age experience with alcohol or drugs? Nope, I got to college not even knowing what “proof” meant. (There’s a percentage for alcohol content? I thought you just did one of those ”shot” things and turned into an uncontrollable party monster…?) Look up “naive” in the dictionary; you’ll find a picture of me at 17. And 18. And maybe 19.Aww, just look at all that cute, trusting innocence, though.

“Alright, Snowfox, out with it! How did you finally start coming out of your shell?” (I inspire impatience in a lot of people. Don’t feel bad.)

…Why, I joined a kung fu studio, of course.

I’ll wait a second for you to catch up on that one. Not what you were expecting, eh? That’s alright. Take your time. Okay, kung fu. Like, Bruce Lee? Jackie Chan? Hi-YAH!? Er, alright…

Ready?

I mean, what better place to challenge myself, right? I didn’t do anything physical, I was afraid of talking to just about everyone, and I would rather read and daydream about something adventurous than actually attempt it myself. I could never learn to fight. I couldn’t even handle verbal conflicts!

As it turned out, of course, my journey with the kung fu studio became much less about fighting (after 5 years, I’m still working on it) and much more about confidence and love. After the first six months, when I finally dared to voice one of many snarky comments that I would normally have kept to myself, I inherited a veritable slew of older brothers (just like I’d always wanted!!) and found myself becoming a part of a close-knit family that would define the rest of my life.

My first incredible mentor and big bro, who moved across the country a few years ago, reads this blog on occasion (hi WoodHare!); my incredible group of nerdy and awesome friends and intrepid crossfit compatriots all have ties to the studio (you know who you are!); I even met Rogue Leader there, who continues to make my life better every single day (awww).  Hell, I’m even majoring in Chinese because of my “all-things-Chinese” love affair that blossomed at the studio.Don’t tell HIM that it’s not Year of the Ox.

I could go on and on about the incredible joys and life lessons the studio has brought me in a few short years, but this post was actually supposed to be about the leadership training program I did a few weeks ago. . . . Whoops. We’ll save the kung fu love story for another day, then.

What you should take away from the whole “Leadership for Introverts: Part One” (which should more aptly be called “Snowfox likes to write about herself and will get to leadership in Part Two”), then, is that “introvert” doesn’t always have to mean “shy.” Introverts just need some alone time now and again — we lose energy from being in big groups of people, where extroverts thrive on big social events. Some quiet people really are just solitary; other quiet people are simply more comfortable in a smaller, close-knit group of dear friends than a crowd of strangers. I’ve been, and always will be, a bit of both.Me at every social gathering ever.

But, if you, too, feel that you’re a quiet person with rather a lot to say (both Western and Eastern astrology informs me that I ought to be the chatty life of the party, so obviously, I’ve been doing it wrong my whole life), here’s lesson number one: try something outside of your comfort zone. It may change your life in incredible ways you never could have imagined — it sure has for me.

Stay tuned for part two: The leadership program where all this kung-fu-confidence has led me, and how I might be becoming a total BAMF.

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Photos link back to their original URL. (Go Google image search!) In addition, the adorable fox photo belongs to Rob Lee and can be found on this adorable site or at his flickr, and the great comic strip is from Randall Munroe’s fantastic webcomic XKCD, which you should all read and love as much as I do.