An Open Letter to My Raging Extrovert Sister

Hey, my dear extrovert.

I want you to know that I’m amazed by you. I’m amazed by the fact that you can pick up a conversation with just about anyone. You are an open book, sharing your whole life and your most genuine self with people. My guarded self cannot relate.

I admire your ability to make anyone and everyone feel comfortable around you. You make every person you speak to feel valued; you make every person you speak to feel like they’re your instant best friend. It’s incredible. You’re incredible.

I’m impressed that you can flirt and be charming. Even what you consider to be awkward comes off as playful charisma. You’re smooth and stylish and have a way with communication.

I wanted to thank you for being the crutch I needed all of growing up, and if we’re honest, now, too. Thank you for making calls on both of our behalves. Thank you for making reservations for our outings.

Thank you for letting me cling to you at social gatherings so I don’t have to branch out when I’m too scared or simply don’t have the energy. Thanks to you I don’t have to be that weirdo in the corner of parties who eats all of the snacks and only interacts with the hosts’ pets.

Thank you for understanding that my introversion, my need to be by myself, isn’t a flaw. Sure, it restricts me from certain activities, but it ultimately makes me more independent. I can be alone with my own thoughts for more time than you can imagine. I know it puzzles you at times (How can you not thrive in this fast-paced, friendly, social environment!?), but you respect my self-care routine and do your best to plan around it.

Thank you for not at all getting offended when I stupidly suggested you get hobbies or make other friends when you complained that I can’t hang out with you all the time. You took it super well and never, ever bring it up or tell other people that I said it. Not one bit. You were so great about it and you don’t make me feel guilty for voicing that opinion months ago. It’s cool, we’re cool. Typical big sister, always doing the sisterly thing, letting things go and moving on and growing really maturely from it.

But honestly, I’m sorry I don’t make as much time for you as you deserve. I know you have so much love to give, so much energy to burn off and you’d like to share that with me. I’m sorry I can’t be there for you all the time.

I’m sorry that I prioritize work too often, so when I’m done I only have time to recharge by myself. I should set aside more time for you, because I genuinely want to.

I’m sorry I can’t be more spontaneous and go out to dinner on a whim.

I’m sorry I can’t scream excited praises when your date goes well, when you found the perfect flippy skirt or when you had an amazing interview. Please remember that I am listening and I’m jumping for joy on the inside. I just can’t always express it.

I’m sorry (but I’m also so not sorry) that I don’t want to go out to a crazy bar with you on my 21st birthday. It’s not my scene. Let’s have a low-key dinner where the waiters don’t sing and other patrons don’t make eye contact with me.

I hope you know that I don’t hate you, not one bit. Not even when you exasperate me by sarcastically wailing: “Why do you hate me?” I still love you when I am exhausted by you.

My reserved enthusiasm and energy do not equate low levels of affection. I know when I don’t automatically vocally affirm you, you don’t feel valued, and I’m sorry. I will continue trying to do better.

Please understand that my lack of alone time feels just as lonely as your forced alone time. If I don’t get my time away from the regular sensory-overload of life, I feel hollow and sensitive to every light, sound and touch.

I feel anxious and to-the-core-exhausted. It’s an exhaustion I hardly begin to describe. It hurts and is numbing all at once. It removes my bones and organs and swells an empty heart across my whole body, engorging and bloating it until it suffocates me. I get migraines and lose my temper about the most trivial things. It’s like when you’re hangry, but far more emo.

I hope you can see why I want to move to a slower-paced environment and get myself out of the sunlight for a while. You and I require such different things in order to feel whole. Please don’t take it personally.

I love you and need you in my life. I want to be there for all of our big life events, and all of our small day-to-day events. I want to live with you, or near you, but I can’t stay in this introvert’s hell forever.

I also hope you know that I think you’re brave. You aren’t afraid to ask for help or for comfort in times of crisis, which is incredibly fierce and intelligent.

Your dependence on other people to give you energy helps you bond better with your community. Being open about the fact that you crave attention from others is not weak and is not needy. It’s honest and good.

We balance each other out well and have formed each other into pretty darn good humans. We make each other stronger, smarter and more caring.

Without your extroversion, I wouldn’t be as dynamic and adaptable as I am. I wouldn’t learn the skills I have to prioritize friends and thrive in any type of personal or professional setting.

Without my introversion, I would probably give you enough attention in one day to last a lifetime. You wouldn’t even need to branch out and make new friends. Your extrovert friends are filling in the gaps that I can’t, but really wish I could.

So, I guess if I wasn’t introverted, we wouldn’t need to make any other friends; we would just wind up like those “Silent Gibbons Twins” who only communicated with each other and wrote weird, grammatically incorrect works of fiction then turned to lives of crime. Be thankful for my introversion!

You are exactly what I need and I’m so grateful to have you as my sister.