I was convinced for so many years that I was an extrovert. I lived my life in front of people. I lived in busy city centres, I worked in offices, co-working hubs or cafes, and after work, I placed myself in busy restaurants, pubs, bars, clubs, events. I needed noise. I slept with music or sounds. I would talk my thoughts out loud before I’d thought them. I needed a large social network. I excelled in busy settings and found ways to put myself in the limelight of a project or conversation. Constantly.

Carl Jung defined an extrovert as someone who feels energised by the external world and social interactions often characterised by “outgoing”, “expressive” and “talkative” patterns of behaviour.

I fine tuned my seemingly natural ability in public speaking into a career. I started writing about my journey online and learning in public. I still coach people professionally, blog, work in large, diverse and collaborative teams, travel for my job, and continue public speaking engagements in my tech and coaching careers.

However, what I didn’t realise in the past, which I’ve learned about myself over the last year, is that I was hiding in public. In an ocean of people. Not energised. Not truly outgoing, talkative or expressive, but performing.

That’s not to say the presentation of myself wasn’t real. It was real for who I was at the time. As honest as I could be with the understanding – and life – I had then. But, I was tired. Sick, and tired.

I would get home exhausted from these interactions, events, and performances. Unaware of the impact this cycle was having on my mental health. Unable to cope with the emotions I held onto underneath. Numb. I couldn’t sit alone and just feel, let alone allow others to see this version of me. Struggling.

Introverts have a tendency to focus more on inner experiences of their lives. Introverts are typically more intrinsically motivated, self-reliant, guarded, and introspective than extroverts. They favour independence and reflect in quiet. Without noise.

As I progressed in my self-discovery and recovery journey, I began to accept myself. In this acceptance came many hours of alone time. Alone time I began to enjoy. Reflecting. I started writing again – on here, notes in my phone when I’m out, sending memos to myself, and in many pages of my journal. I never leave the house for long without a book and a pen. I started playing music again. Skateboarding. Walking. Lots and lots of walking.

I invest far more energy today in 1:1 engagements with colleagues and friends. I nurture deep, emotional connections in my life and de-prioritise relationships that leave me feeling overwhelmed or de-valued.

Over the last year, I have undergone a deep transformation that has impacted the way I am in all facets of my life. Including my career.

I feel like myself again.

I listen better.

I think before I speak.

I react less.

I platform others better.

I take time alone to reflect.

I apologise more.

I spend more time outside in nature.

I spend less time on my phone.

I live near the sea.

I walk everyday.

I write everyday.

I meditate everyday.

I have stopped performing.

I am a different person and I’m embracing that change. I am learning more about myself and excited to discover who I will become tomorrow. Quietly. In my much smaller, peaceful and happier life.

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If you identify with any of the thoughts shared on my site and feel you would like to talk to someone, please reach out to your GP. Information, services and helplines for those struggling with, or impacted by someone else’s, addiction can be found on the NHS website and a list of UK and global organisations to reach out to here. If you ever feel like things are too much, please call Samaritans on 116 123.