Maybe I’m Not an Introvert

For most of my life, I labeled myself an introvert.

Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not.

When I was a kid, I could always occupy myself. I was perfectly content playing alone for hours. My mom tells me that when I woke up in my crib, I wouldn’t cry or scream. I’d just lay there and wait until someone came to get me.

Being alone never bothered me.

At the same time, being around people didn’t bother me either. I had friends. I made friends easily. I played sports. I spent time with other kids. Looking back, there wasn’t much evidence that I disliked people.

As I got older, something changed.

Put me in a room full of people I didn’t know, and I’d find a corner. Ask me to do something unfamiliar, and I’d shut down. I’d become quiet, withdrawn, and uncomfortable.

But put me in a gym.

Put me around fitness.

Put me in a situation where I knew what I was talking about.

Now I could lead. I could coach. I could tell stories. I could teach. I could hold conversations all day long.

That got me wondering.

Maybe I wasn’t an introvert at all.

Maybe I was afraid.

At some point in my life, certain people made me feel like I wasn’t enough.

Whether it was intentional or not, the message landed.

I felt like I couldn’t do things right.

Like whatever I did could have been done better.

Like I wasn’t measuring up to expectations.

Like other people were smarter, more capable, more talented, or more deserving.

When you hear those messages often enough, especially when you’re young, they become more than words. They become beliefs.

And beliefs have a way of following you long after the people who planted them have forgotten they ever said them.

They show up in conversations you don’t start.

Opportunities you don’t pursue.

Risks you don’t take.

Dreams you don’t chase.

For years, I thought I was simply an introvert.

Now I wonder how much of it was actually fear born from those beliefs.

Fear of judgment.

Fear of rejection.

Fear of looking foolish.

Fear of failing.

Fear of not measuring up.

For years, that fear limited my connections with other people.

I missed conversations.

I missed opportunities to learn.

I missed opportunities to understand people.

I missed opportunities to be understood.

And I believe those missed connections limited my growth.

Personally.

Professionally.

Spiritually.

I think they limited my leadership.

I think they limited my business.

And I think they may have limited my ability to fully discover what God has called me to do.

Now before someone says, “But Bret, you own a gym. You coach people every day. You’ve helped a lot of people.”

That’s true.

And I’m grateful for that.

But most of that happened inside my comfort zone.

Fitness is familiar.

Coaching is familiar.

Talking about workouts, nutrition, and performance is familiar.

The real challenge isn’t connecting with people where I’m comfortable.

The real challenge is connecting with people where I’m uncomfortable.

Having conversations with people who think differently.

Listening more than talking.

Being curious.

Learning their stories.

Understanding their struggles.

Finding ways to help that have nothing to do with barbells or burpees.

The older I get, the more convinced I become that growth is found on the other side of connection.

And connection requires vulnerability.

It requires courage.

It requires being willing to show up without all the answers.

Maybe I’m an introvert.

Maybe I’m not.

What I know for sure is that fear has stolen enough from me already.

The next chapter of my life isn’t about becoming more outgoing.

It’s about becoming more connected.

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