I Finally Accepted Being an Introvert. Then Midlife Complicated Everything

My school reports said the same thing year after year: lacks confidence. Parent evenings meant listening to teachers critique me while my mother nodded along. This planted the seed in my mind that my natural way of being in the world was wrong.

I rarely had confidence issues in small circles of people I felt at ease with, but I'd struggle in bigger groups, tripping over my words and struggling when I had to speak in front of everyone. I spent a lot of time inside my head, daydreaming as I stared out of windows.

Despite my outward shyness, the world within my imagination felt rich and vibrant. I was content spending time alone and I loved nothing more than to read books that whisked me away to other places.

As I grew older, my confidence grew alongside me, albeit somewhat haphazardly. I began to feel more comfortable in social situations. But even though I wasn't that same shy child, I always felt a sense of being other.

The Label That Changed Everything

It wasn't until my late twenties that I got my first insight into my personality beyond the label of "shy."

I was working as a PA in England when Myers Briggs testing was growing in popularity. Our company decided to implement personality testing for all employees to reduce conflict and promote harmony.

After completing the assessment, my results came back: INFJ. Introverted, iNtuitive, Feeling, Judging. The summary was startlingly accurate. It was the first time in my life I'd felt truly seen.

My very-extrovert boss read the report and immediately said "This isn't right." He marched me back to the boardroom to tell the assessor my results must be skewed. "If the Operations Managers see this, they'll eat her alive."

There it was. A new version of the old admonishing school reports. Except this time it was an official assessment that labeled me as an introvert, and clearly that was a problem.

The assessor tried to explain that introversion didn't translate to weakness. But the damage was done. Instead of meeting myself with compassion, I vowed to bury my truth even further.

The Performance That Depleted Me

I adopted a more extrovert persona at work. I projected a confidence I didn't possess. I fabricated a life I thought a confident, extrovert person would lead. I convinced myself that if I just stuck to the script, I'd become that person. The entire act left me feeling disconnected and depleted.

Over the years, the consistent theme I saw play out was that the people who were accepted and rewarded were those who were visibly extrovert.

When the world shows us on repeat what success looks like, we measure ourselves against that ideal. It rarely occurs to us that there might be another version. Many different versions, in fact. And none of them involve abandoning ourselves to fit someone else's mold.

When I Finally Stopped Performing

At 40, I left England to move to New York to be with my husband and began freelance writing. I didn't want to work at yet another company where I felt I couldn't be myself.

As a popular blogger, I shared personal essays about my interior world. The more I leaned into my own truth, the more people resonated with my words. I was working alone but connecting with women across the globe.

I noticed that many of the writers and creatives I admired were also introverts - happily so. They were creating amazing work and making a difference. Inspired by their authenticity and transparency, I began to embrace my introvert nature instead of trying to hide it. A huge weight lifted. It was the first time I realized I could be successful as myself.

But Midlife Brings New Challenges

It took me four decades to finally start to accept myself as an introvert. But acceptance didn't mean life suddenly became easy.

The patterns I'd spent years establishing didn't disappear simply because I had more awareness of them. If anything, life became more challenging because the hormonal upheaval that perimenopause brought meant that I was now experiencing a rollercoaster of different emotions.

My old coping mechanisms no longer worked. I couldn't mask as easily as I once had.

I now know I'm not alone in this. Through my work with midlife women over the years, I've seen the same patterns of struggles:

The self-sufficiency that served you becomes loneliness

You've always figured things out on your own. That independence got you through your twenties and thirties. But now, when your body is changing in ways you don't recognize, or when your parents need care you're not sure how to provide, or when your career feels like it's shifting beneath you, handling it alone stops feeling like strength and starts feeling like overwhelm.

You carry everything yourself because reaching out for help feels more complicated than just managing. But the burden keeps building.

Everything's changing faster than you can make sense of it

Introverts need time to process. You sit with information, turn it over, figure out what it means. That's how you've always made sense of the world.

But perimenopause doesn't wait for you to adjust. Your role as caregiver doesn't pause while you figure out next steps. Work demands keep accelerating. The pace of change has sped up exactly when you need more space and time to think.

Avoiding conflict has become so automatic you've forgotten what you want

You've spent so long keeping the peace that speaking up feels alien. Not because you lack opinions (if you're like me, you have plenty!). But voicing them means risking discord, and you've built a life around maintaining harmony.

The problem is you can't remember the last time you said what you wanted without qualifying it, apologizing for it, or wondering if you should have just stayed quiet.

Everyone needs something from you and alone time feels selfish

You need solitude to recharge. You always have - it's not optional. It's how your nervous system works.

But the busyness of midlife fills every available hour. Aging parents need support. Work expects more, not less. Relationships require attention. Your own health demands time you don't have.

When you finally get an hour alone, guilt creeps in. You should be doing something productive. Someone probably needs you. Taking space feels like letting people down.

You push through social obligations that leave you depleted for days, then wonder why you can't seem to recover.

A Different Kind of Support

The advice introverts get is usually the same: Join a group! Speak up more! Stop overthinking!

But what if you need support that works with how you're wired instead of asking you to rewire yourself?

This is why many of my clients use personalized meditations that address their specific needs. Not general advice about speaking up or joining groups, but custom support for how they're wired. If this resonates, Elevations might fit what you need.

What I Know Now

Being an introvert isn't a character flaw, but using extrovert strategies to fit in only creates more tension. When you feel supported to be your true self, overthinking and uncomfortable patterns shift from constant background noise to occasional visitor. Decisions get made without endless rumination. You're finally able to show up with authenticity and confidence.

This isn't about transforming into someone you're not. It's about honoring who you are and finding support that meets you where you are.