When I was younger, I was a very gregarious and talkative child. So much so that my father nicknamed me “mouth”.

I had a question for everything- I took nothing at face value. I was all about finding out why.

As a kindergartner, I was the first to raise my hand and say “oooh I know that!” I did this so much that I was immediately promoted to first grade.

In grade school, I began writing stories. I’d bring them to school and share them with my friends. I also was the class artist, drawing pictures for whoever asked for one.

High school had me known by many, but not in the popular group. I was in the artsy crowd – I was in the creative dance troupe, I was in almost every school play, and I wrote for our creative writing anthology.

It set the stage for me being on stage. I have sung on stage before a few, and before thousands. I’ve performed solos in churches, and at the mall.

I was on the debate team (back when civil discourse was actually possible), and won a state short story contest, placing me in front of a crowd yet again.

So imagine my surprise when, sometime in my late 20’s, I realized I was an introvert.

Oh, I can speak and teach in front of crowds with ease. Just don’t make me talk to anyone.

I realized the extrovert me was my shield – if people perceived me as one thing, they accepted me as such. Most people never delved deeper than the pretty, outgoing singer/writer/artist.

This is a double edged sword. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve gotten more anxious and withdrawn. I spend most of my time alone with my dog. It’s hard for me to be in crowded places. I get physically ill at the thought of having to make small talk.

It’s not that I don’t want to. I do! I’m just terribly anxious in social settings. Give me a performance to give, a lesson to teach, and I’m there.

I desperately want more close relationships, but I’ve hid so long behind the facade. I’m comfortable with my safe people- my husband, kids, family, and a small handful of trusted friends that are like family to me.

Even in my running, I’m alone – when I race, I’m alone in a crowd. I feel kinship with the other runners….but I get my medal, eat a banana, and go home.

As I get older, I’m introverting. I’m aware of it. I’m trying to push through my comfort zone.

Some days, though, I just can’t.