Most of my life, or at least most of what I can remember, I have been considered an introvert. I have been quiet, reserved and frequently known to never talk. However, I recently completed a personality test in which the results came as a shock - I’m an extrovert?

I mean don’t get me wrong, I, as well as probably most of the known world, have noticed that I have started to talk more and have begun to initiate more conversations; but since when did I abandon my introverted tendencies?

Being an introvert does not mean I do not love talking to people or meeting new people, it just means that I rejuvenate my energy through quiet, alone time. However, my introverted tendencies put me in a position where almost all my time was spent “rejuvenating;” so now that I am now more outgoing and fearless, I have been classified as extroverted.

As my friends would say, a classification brought on by my time spent as an Orientation Advisor.

As my family would say, a classification brought on by finally removing the last of the negative energy from my life.

Either way, Mrs. Myers and Mrs. Briggs claim, no matter the reasoning, that I’ve switched.

However, I’d like to argue my title. Although I have become more engaging, outgoing and “extroverted,” I still find myself quietly listening, observing and being generally “introverted.” I have also found that my social anxiety has diminished - leaving me to crave socialization and conversation, but also leaving me to continue to crave my alone time.

So what am I? - A question I never saw myself asking myself. Am I an introvert or extrovert? By technical means, I’m an introvert; but by logical means, I’m an extrovert.

By my terms, I’m an inextrovert. I find that although I’ve rekindled my love of conversation, I will forever need my alone time.

So keep in mind, although you may hear me before you see me, I’ll still choose to lead with a quiet sense of determination; and even though I may choose to listen over talk, I’ll still choose to stand up for myself and for what I believe in.

The death of an introvert, but the birth of the old me.