Being called quiet used to bug me, especially when I was young, when my quietness came largely from insecurity. I didn’t know myself, or particularly like myself, and so kept quiet as a mouse.
I’d listen in mild awe to kids and teenagers who just spoke their minds with confidence, as if they didn’t care if they sounded stupid or wrong.
Part of the quietness is inherent, because I am an introvert. But now, I feel like being quiet isn’t a bad thing – it’s a choice I make. Here are a few reasons why I often make the choice to be comfortably quiet:
Not all thoughts are the truth
Just because I have a thought, it doesn’t make it true.
I once overheard a girl I worked with in childcare say (somewhat defiantly), ‘I’m honest, I tell the truth – I say everything that’s on my mind, I’ve got nothing to hide.’ The statement really bugged me.
Later, I realised it was because I’m honest too, but I don’t say everything that’s on my mind. That’s not honesty – that’s just unnecessary. This girl probably thought that her thoughts were the truth, and by not voicing them she would be ‘lying’ by omission.
But that’s just it – no one’s thoughts represent the objective truth.
Sometimes they’re profound, but sometimes they’re like static on the radio; fuzzy and difficult to understand. There is a lot of mental noise in our heads.
A good deal of our thoughts include complaints, and observations based on subjective memories or impressions; opinions rooted in fear and judgment because of our past experiences (at least, I know mine can be). Voicing thoughts like these might not help us feel better or give us more clarity.
Choosing truth, necessity and kindness
Another recent thing I read recently in a Buddhist book (can’t remember which one) was saying that before you say something out loud ask yourself these 3 questions:
Is what you’re saying true? Is what you’re saying necessary? Is what you’re saying kind? (including kind to yourself).
If you answer no to any of these questions, then re-consider whether you choose to bring the energy of that thought into the world, therefore amplifying its energy.
Sometimes I do this assessment before I speak. To some people (especially extroverts) this may seem tiring and odious, or perhaps self censoring. But I only do it when I already feel uncertain to voice something.
Because talking about something doesn’t always help, especially when you haven’t processed an emotion or belief yet.
Throwing an idea out into the world – where other people’s potentially unformed emotions or beliefs are thrown into the mix – can confuse and complicate your personal processing.
This is especially the case if those other people have different values to you. When you’re someone who thinks about things as deeply as I do, this premature release of words into the world is unhelpful when the people I’m sharing with have different values to me.
Observing people is fun (in a non-stalkery way..)
I like hearing other people talk. I like the secret worlds people have inside them, which you are given a small preview of when they express themselves through words.
There are those who like to hear the sounds of their own voice, and I don’t mind this. I’m more content listening to those sounds rather than my own. I already know what I think about something. I’d much prefer to listen to what someone else thinks.
Even if what someone has to say sounds annoying or entitled at the time, upon reflection it’s still interesting to think about how people come to the conclusions they do.
It’s not just the words to listen to, but how people say them. The pauses, the exaggerations or dilutions, the body language, the gaze, the nervous tics or other mannerisms – I find it all fascinating.
I’d rather talk only when necessary, to keep my front row seat to watching the wonderful world of humans. If that means I’m quiet, then so be it.
I talk when I need to (sometimes a lot)
All in all, my quietness is not something I fight against anymore. And when I have lots to say, I say it.
It’s also the case that introverts will talk more when they feel comfortable, and talk less (or be silent, in extreme cases) when they don’t feel comfortable, which I can relate to. It’s all contextual, but most of the time now it’s a choice.
I’m quite happy in this introversion, and without it I would not (in my opinion) have my affinity with writing and music.
And I love the extroverts of the world, because they give me the opportunity to be an introvert and appreciate the wonderfully diverse natures of people. They are the yin to my yang, the sweet to my savoury, as variety is the spice of life.
