Making friends and communicating with others brings me immense joy, but my outspoken personality can sometimes mask a deeper anxiety. About ten years ago, I took the Big Five personality test, known for its brutal honesty, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at my results: I scored in the 91st percentile for neuroticism.

When I shared my score with my friend Alessandra, she blurted out, “Hon, I love you, but that’s not news.” She was spot on. My score for extroversion wasn’t shocking either; I landed in the 97th percentile. This reminded me of high school when our pop-psychology-loving English teacher had us take a Myers-Briggs inventory. Back then, I got mixed results across three categories, but one thing was clear—I was definitely an extrovert.

I’ve always been a “people person,” even before I could speak. Once I found my voice, I rarely stopped using it. Building friendships and engaging in conversations have been some of the greatest joys of my life. However, my expressiveness often hid layers of insecurity and anxiety. At times, being around others was the only way to distract myself from the ongoing unease in my mind.

Identifying as an extrovert always felt spot-on, even if my actions didn’t always align with how others perceived extroversion. I’ve constantly juggled my anxious tendencies with my outgoing nature. People who saw me cracking jokes at parties or making friends on my first day of summer camp often missed what was happening inside when I dealt with panic attacks. Friends who joked about my fears were often puzzled by my ability to deliver a speech to a crowd or remain calm in emergencies.

Around the time I took the Big Five test, introversion was experiencing a cultural renaissance. Susan Cain’s 2012 bestseller, “Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking,” resonated widely, with many describing it as “life-changing.” In “Quiet,” Cain passionately argues that introverts are often misunderstood and undervalued. She shares personal experiences and studies suggesting that introverted traits can be innate. Cain contends that introverts frequently feel pressure to conform to what she calls “the Extrovert Ideal,” a societal expectation that celebrates outgoingness and charisma.

While Cain’s work empowered introverts to express themselves, it also sparked some criticism toward extroverts like myself. Numerous articles described extroverted personalities as annoying or rude. Ironically, in our social media age, one of the most criticized groups turned out to be those who thrive on human interaction.

This backlash made me anxious. Did being an extrovert mean I was inherently loud, pushy, or unpleasant company? Although I embraced my extroverted identity, it’s tough when you feel disliked for who you are. Cain may be onto something when she suggests that Western culture often favors extroverts. A 2019 study from the University of Toronto indicated that extroverts enjoy a “small, persistent advantage” in the workplace. Even in psychiatric literature, introversion has historically been seen as a factor in various mental health disorders. The 2013 edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders even associates “extroversion” with a healthy personality.

In Cain’s framework, the typical extrovert “prefers action to contemplation, risk-taking to heed-taking, certainty to doubt.” But that doesn’t resonate with me. I frequently experience doubt and enjoy reflecting. As for taking risks? I wouldn’t even ride roller coasters.

There are critical reviews of Cain’s book, including one from psychiatrist Dr. Ravi Chandra, who argues she conflates too many traits with introversion. I can see that; introverts certainly don’t have a monopoly on sensitivity or risk aversion—I’ve seen those descriptors in my progress reports right next to “talks too much.”

Extroversion and introversion lie on a spectrum, and there are also “ambiverts,” who fall between the two extremes. Recent research suggests that more than half the population may identify as ambiverts, with some experts arguing that they hold greater advantages in society.

So, what does being an extrovert or introvert really mean? I’ve often heard the straightforward definition: “It’s where you get your energy from.” Friends frustrated with popular definitions have pointed out that it’s not merely about being loud or quiet—those are stereotypes. Essentially, introverts recharge in solitude, while extroverts recharge through interaction with others.

For me, that definition rings true. A text from a sibling or a hug from an old friend gives me energy. I even traveled solo to Iceland for my 30th birthday; while I loved exploring Reykjavik and the countryside, I longed for someone to share those experiences with.

Arriving at this understanding hasn’t been straightforward. Carl Jung was the first to define introversion and extroversion comprehensively in the early 20th century, but his definitions differ significantly from how we interpret them today. In his book “Psychological Types,” Jung characterized introversion as a “movement of interest away from the object to the subject”—essentially focusing on oneself—while extroversion involved “a transfer of interest from subject to object.”

Jung’s model suggested introverts tend to be independent and nonconforming, whereas extroverts might conform more due to concern for others’ opinions. Interestingly, Jung identified as an introvert and had dismissive views about extroverts, framing them as valuable “as long as they aren’t too much of a busybody.”

His framework laid the groundwork for the widely regarded Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI), developed by Katharine Briggs and her daughter Isabel Briggs Myers. While this test brought the terms “introversion” and “extroversion” to a broader audience, it’s been criticized as pseudoscientific. Jung was correspondingly concerned about how people interpreted his terms, emphasizing that “There is no such thing as a pure extravert or a pure introvert.”

The conversation surrounding these concepts is still evolving. In the mid-20th century, various psychologists began studying personality traits empirically. Among them was Raymond Cattell, who identified 16 personality traits, including “extraversion.” Later, psychologist Hans Eysenck highlighted that extroverts generally seek external stimulation due to lower arousal levels.

The Big Five Personality Inventory also measures openness, conscientiousness, extroversion, agreeableness, and neuroticism—just like the test that revealed my neuroticism score in the 91st percentile. In this context, extroversion is linked to cheerfulness and spontaneity.

However, Cattell and Eysenck faced criticism for relying on surveys and questionnaires, which can often be unreliable. Even though the Big Five model is still widely used in research, particularly concerning extroversion, definitions remain contentious. For instance, some studies link “extroversion” with “positivity,” leading to misconceptions about the emotional states of social individuals.

The complexity of defining introversion and extroversion is heightened by how foundational studies often overlook factors like trauma, personal history, cultural differences, or neurodivergence. For example, individuals with ADHD may require external stimulation, regardless of social inclinations.

So, the picture is quite intricate. The modern understanding of “where you get your energy from” seems like a diluted blend of Jung’s ideas and various contemporary studies. While we can pinpoint traits associated with introversion and extroversion, these ideas aren’t as strictly defined as commonly assumed.

Perhaps the introvert-extrovert divide isn’t as scientific as I once thought. Many people cling to beliefs without solid evidence, particularly if those beliefs serve their interests. For some, identifying as an introvert can be empowering. Being an extrovert has offered me many advantages, but has relying on that label been beneficial?

“The thing about ‘introversion and extroversion’ is that it’s a model,” says psychologist MC Flux. He cites statistician George Box’s assertion: “All models are [false], but some models are useful.” The crucial question is how we apply this model in contemporary therapy. How significant is it to classify someone as an introvert or extrovert?

In truth, not much. Licensed mental health counselor Alison Coffey indicates that when a client identifies as an “introvert” or “extrovert,” she views it as insight into how they see themselves and how they wish to be seen. While these labels help us understand one another, she believes people often mistake their behaviors for awkwardness instead of recognizing their shared human experiences.

For years, I’ve known my anxiety revealed itself in distinctly “extroverted” ways. When anxious, instead of retreating, I project my anxiety outward—dominating conversations, blurting comments, and oversharing. That might be why I often label myself an “anxious extrovert.” Having a label helps me articulate my experience.

Katherine Briggs is quoted in “The Personality Brokers,” stating, “Every one of us is born either an extravert or an introvert, and remains an extravert and introvert to the end of his days.” This carries some truth, especially considering twin studies that point to a genetic link to temperament.

Still, some studies suggest personality traits can evolve over time. Many people report feeling more introverted since the pandemic. I noticed I became quieter and more reserved while living in New York City; the energetic chaos made me crave solitude and hesitant to engage with strangers. Returning to Los Angeles, I found myself smiling at strangers and eagerly chatting with anyone who wanted to talk.

As I reflect on my exploration of introversion and extroversion, I initially identified as a “born extrovert.” Now, I begin to question if that definition holds entirely true. Even if it does, how does that label serve me? Perhaps it’s more fitting to say I am “extroverted”—it’s just one facet of my personality.

I might be slightly less anxious than I was a decade ago. Recently, I retook a Big Five personality quiz and was pleasantly surprised to find that while my extroversion score still rests in the high 90s, my neuroticism has improved to the 71st percentile. Now that’s something worth celebrating.