Several years ago, if I’d come to a conference and gotten overwhelmed by the size of the crowd or the crippling depth of my shyness, chances are good that you’d find me in my hotel room, by myself, very possibly with tears in my eyes and a homesick, anxious feeling in my gut.

I’ve never been able to approach people I didn’t know, or actively involve myself in a group conversation. I’m much better off (and so much more comfortable) with a (very) small group of adults, talking about anything and everything that comes up. The bigger a group gets, the more inclined I am to just listen and take it all in, and the less anyone is able to get to know me or discover that I am actually a fairly interesting, mildly funny, intelligent woman with a whole plethora of her own opinions and stories.

That used to be enough to send me over the edge and make me wonder what in the world was wrong with me that I can’t as easily “make new friends.” Why was it so upsetting to me that other people can introduce themselves to strangers and just… talk?

Do I wish I was as able to network and socialize and make people notice me? Sure, who doesn’t? But do I cherish the connections and new friendships I do make? Absolutely.

I’ve come to realize that it’s okay to be quieter than a lot of my peers. It’s okay for me to need to sit in a hotel room and read a book or watch TV while so many others are finding a place to go when the “official” party is over and they’re just getting started.

It’s okay, it’s who I am.