I used to be what many people call an “introvert.”  I usually preferred being alone to being in social situations.  When I did socialize, I’d enjoy myself for a little while, but I’d start getting tired quickly.  Interacting with people seemed like hard work—doing it felt more like meeting an obligation than hanging out and having fun.

Many people assume “introversion” is just a natural, unchangeable “personality type,” and if you’ve got it you’ll just have to live with it.  I used to buy this idea, but today I don’t.  This is because I’ve made great strides in becoming able to see socializing as fun, rather than as a chore.

For me, the main obstacle to enjoying social situations was my focus on achieving some goal or fulfilling some agenda.  Sometimes my goals were very specific—I’d be at a party to meet business contacts or someone to date—and sometimes they’d be more general, like making people laugh or having “deep” or philosophical conversations.  I’d be momentarily happy if I felt like I achieved my goals, but most of the time interacting felt like a struggle to stay on track toward getting what I wanted.

As I went into every social event with some goal in mind, I found myself constantly monitoring everything I did and said to make sure it got me closer to having what I wanted.  Controlling and second-guessing myself this intensely was hard work, and not surprisingly it caused me to have trouble enjoying myself.

For a long time, I didn’t understand what was having my interactions feel like effort.  I secretly wondered why parties, receptions, and other social events happened at all, given how much work it took to attend them and talk to people.  This was the situation until a few years ago when I met my friend David, who had a fascinatingly different take on relating with people.

David was the purest example of what people call an “extrovert.”  Every Sunday, he went out for a few hours to stores, coffee shops, and other places where people were found.  He’d talk to all kinds of strangers, whether male or female, young or old.  Sometimes the conversations would be light chats about the weather or recent events, and sometimes they’d dive more deeply into the strangers’ dreams, passions and personal tragedies.  When I asked why he did this, David just said “I like meeting new people.”

David’s behavior surprised me for two reasons.  First, the idea of going to a social event with no agenda except just being with people was foreign to me—I couldn’t remember ever having tried it, and it sounded like a waste of time and energy.  Second, I was surprised at how easily David got into conversations with people and quickly gained their trust.  I would have assumed people would want him to get out of their way and let them go about their business, but they were strangely receptive to him.  Maybe, I realized, people wanted to make new acquaintances more than I’d thought.

David’s example inspired me to experiment with going into social situations with no agenda at all.  At first, when I went to a party and tried this, I felt a little strange—I wondered what I could possibly say to people if I had no idea what I wanted from them.  But as I started talking to people, learning about them, and joking around with them, I began to understand the appeal of David’s approach.

When I walked into a social event without any goals except enjoying myself, my body felt warm and relaxed—the tightness in my neck and shoulders I used to experience among strangers didn’t come up.  The seriousness and anxiety I felt before in conversations with new people were gone.  People seemed more interested in getting to know me and telling me about themselves.  And even in the rare cases when people were hostile or dismissive, I could stay composed.  Because I wasn’t attached to winning their approval, I didn’t feel so disappointed when I didn’t get it.

Most importantly, I came to see how interacting with people didn’t need to feel like work.  Today, social situations to me are more like rock climbing, volleyball, or some other sport I like to play—whether I perform well or poorly, and whatever else happens, I can usually enjoy myself.

When I think of how much easier socializing is now, I’m reminded of spiritual teachers who suggest that living can be natural and effortless when we drop our attachment to things going a certain way, and simply appreciate where we are in this moment.  Living, they say, is easy when we choose to accept whatever situations we find ourselves in, without getting anxious or angry because we aren’t somewhere else.

For instance, as Indian sage Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj said, “[b]e empty of all mental content, of all imagination and effort, and the very absence of obstacles will cause reality to rush in.”  Similarly, Eckhart Tolle writes in The Power of Now that “[a]s soon as you honor the present moment, all unhappiness and struggle dissolve, and life begins to flow with joy and ease.”  This attitude of acceptance or non-attachment, I’ve found, does much to make relating with people easier and more fun.

If you see yourself as shy or introverted, and socializing feels like work to you, try this experiment.  Next time you’re at a social event, pay attention to whether you feel like you’re supposed to achieve something, impress someone, or have a certain kind of conversation.

If you find these feelings coming up, this may explain why socializing feels like effort—you’re second-guessing everything you say and do to make sure it fits into your agenda.  When you release the need to achieve goals when you’re interacting with people, I think you’ll start finding it an easier—and maybe even a pleasurable—experience.

Related posts:

1. Assumption-Free Conversation
2. Are You “Shy” Or Just Afraid of Feelings?
3. The Show Must Not Go On
4. The Power Of Silent Conversation