Illustration by Ren O’Hare

I remember seeing pieces from The Guardian, or smaller news outlets like bloomberg.com, at the start of isolation which proposed a much-needed message of hope: that for introverts like myself, lockdown would play to our strengths. To expound this, introverted thinkpieces have suggested that quarantine is an opportunity for us to utilise an effective, isolated environment which gives us the space for creativity without the burden of frequent socialisation. I use the term burden liberally as I believe most of us have, in our own ways, come to miss the company of friends, and don’t wholly see this as a time for emancipation from structured social contact. The sense that the environment, as Jess Denham describes it, has been ‘business as usual’ for introverts is a thought-provoking and optimistic idea. I certainly don’t want to take away from the sense of liberty given to introverted people who have been able to use this space effectively when honing their creative processes, examples of recent artistic emergence from lockdown include: Sir Antony Gormley’s experiments with clay and his piece ‘Hold’, the street art of Bristol creative Angus, or the erotic poetry of Hoda Khamosh, an emerging Pakistani voice fuelled by lockdown isolation. I have enjoyed the personal freedom, the re-connectivity with my creative self and the newly-expanded opportunities of my own company; the security blanket of lockdown offers protection from FOMO and the guilt about alone time I felt before. In a way, the idea that lockdown is an edenic experiment for introverts is true, and embraces the most positive and self-loving aspects of the introverted way of life.

The greatest issue with these newly-found spaces for creative and personal freedom have been growing in the past few weeks, gradually gaining root in my new – albeit temporary – way of life and spoiling the nurturing ideal presented by Denham. The space for creativity and isolation remain, but the pressures of socialisation have slowly begun to return. As weeks pass by, the routines we establish become our collective new normal and despite the messages – which should be celebrated – that we don’t need to check in on everyone, and that we deserve to love our new introvert-opia, the anxieties which presided over our old normal can still make their way into our present. I feel the pressure I felt when living in the close company of friends. Making the effort to socialise paid off in the happiness of life together, but without physical reminders, these habits slip away. The worries which resided over me before lockdown persist, simply manifesting in new ways as sending a message or making a call becomes the new leaving my room and joining my friends or going for coffee. Introverts stereotypically desire the space and freedom which lockdown offers and the multitude of ways in which it can be enjoyed; for me, my freedom feels somewhat attached to worry. The ability to socialise physically has gone for now, but the pressures which introverts internalise can coincide as the ‘new normal’ for modes of socialisation are established and take root.

Discourse which discourages ‘the need for productivity and creativity’ in lockdown and reminders to ‘remember who checked in’ have bloomed on social media, and offer solace to more than just the introverted. These messages are important and well-intentioned, especially apt in a period where the mass availability of information feels isolating to the individual user of social media. However, for introverts like myself, the same issues crop up which existed before, and embracing this period for creativity can still result in the internalisation of guilt about lack of social reciprocation myself, despite the positivity spread on social media. To what degree does my enjoying this alone time make me a bad friend, or gives me an excuse to lapse into self-isolating practices which I have worked so hard to change? Being introverted means enjoying independence and isolation by nature, and I sometimes – though again, would never suggest or want this for others – feel guilty in my enjoyment of this time which has, ironically, emotionally liberated me through confinement. The notion of personal and creative freedom for myself can feel especially guilty considering when my sentiments are the exact opposite for some of my closest friends. 

The joy of being introverted is an odd one, as many fundamental contemporary messages of happiness come from those related to our connections with others. The self-love and body positivity movements have sought to reorganise the priorities through which we define our happiness, and this is a revolution for the introverted. Self-love cannot be underestimated in this period where mass-exposure to potentially harmful messaging on social media has increased exponentially. Introverts shouldn’t feel those old urges which tell you to feel bad about not reaching out, or to feel guilty about loving this time for yourself and for your creativity. The messaging which has incurred this self-directed guilt (for me) is positive, wonderful and should be encouraged, but does not defeat the self-directed guilt I have felt as an introvert for years and years. The best way forward, perhaps, for those of the introverted inclination, is to communicate to those around us that we haven’t changed, and gently remind them of the love we feel in a way which doesn’t expect or anticipate a mutual reciprocation of communication if it is not the right time for it. It is also important to consider the ways in which positive content, when overwhelming, means expressing negativity becomes harder; the absence of negative expression itself should not always be treated as a positive, as people often find catharsis in such moments of emotion. However, it is valuable to uplift others where possible and not to derail positive discourse surrounding creative freedoms which are blossoming during lockdown. These truths become especially poignant for introverts who, despite embracing these freedoms more naturally, may also take a little more time to fully embrace the tribulations which accompany this growing exposure to self.