Skip to main content

The introvert me

Excerpt from the Diary of Tushar Mangl Tuesday, June 12, 2007, 10:15 AM

This entry delves into the inner turmoil of being an introvert, the challenges of communication, and the writer’s quest for self-understanding amidst societal judgments.

"Tell me what's on your mind?" she asked.
I replied, "Nothing."
"Why do you have to be so introverted?" she shouted, exasperated.
"Why do you keep everything inside you? You know what... it kills!"
I responded, "It already has."


The Introvert Me

One of the many burdens I carry is my introversion—something I cannot change. How can one alter their very core? This is the paradox of my life. I have always viewed communication as a powerful tool to address countless problems in life. I’ve written extensively about it, received varied feedback on my communication skills, and even garnered praise for my writing. Yet, here I stand, realizing that my introversion has cast a shadow over my future.

Introverts struggle to express themselves effectively. Reflecting on my solitary life, everything seems so challenging, and dreams remain hazy. In every test of life, I failed, simply because I couldn’t communicate. Even when someone praised my writing, I didn’t feel elated. Instead, I would wonder why I only wrote 20 percent of what was truly in my mind.

Perhaps I am as difficult as many have pointed out. But no one is born difficult. Is there an explanation for this? I have never been able to answer the countless criticisms I have faced. Then there’s the perception of ego. People assume it’s there, but I have no response to their assumptions. I am simply shy.

Someone once advised me to change. But why should I? God made me this way. If his will is for me to suffer, then so be it. Whenever the worst happens, I wonder when it will end. The silent sufferings, the yearning to reach out, and the only answer I hear is ‘death.’ I was born to suffer and will die suffering. Despite trying innumerable times to overcome this deficiency, I remain an introvert. They say I’m egoistic, that I lead a lonely life, and that I am destined to endure this pain.

-------------------------------------------------------

What's Happening?

Life is good. At least it looks good. I am residing in the capital region of India these days and its turning out to be a good ride.

Back home Punjab is a wealthy state. Here the glamor of money is different. Its like India was never a poor country.
I miss writing. Really do. Shifting here has paused development of all my upcoming books. And it makes me very sad. Soon however a new book would be launched. I am scraping away time and collecting my focus. Spring motivates you to write like nothing else. I wrote both The Thakur Boy and The Avenging Act in spring of 2007 and the weather always makes me yearn to write more.

Food here is awesome and I have rediscovered the foodie in me.

First Published on 30/03/2015 17:11

Subscribe to Tushar Mangl's YouTube Channel for more reflections, insights, and motivational talks.

About Tushar Mangl: Tushar Mangl is an healer, counselor, and author who writes on business, investments, personal finance, Vastu, mental health, food, leisure, and creating a greener, better society. He is the author of Ardika and I Will Do It.

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Also read

Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf

Why does Mrs Dalloway still speak to you after a hundred years? A human reading of Virginia Woolf’s novel A reflective and thoughtful review of Mrs Dalloway that explores why Virginia Woolf’s modernist classic continues to resonate. From memory and mental health to love, regret, and time, this article examines characters, themes, context, and craft while questioning whether the novel still challenges and comforts today’s reader. Why does a novel about one ordinary day linger in your mind for years? This long form review of Mrs Dalloway explores through its quiet power. You will find analysis, critique, history, and personal reflection on why this book continues to unsettle and comfort readers alike. Can a single ordinary day hold an entire life? Have you ever reached the end of a day and wondered where it went, and more unsettlingly, where you went within it? That question sits at the heart of Mrs Dalloway , Virginia Woolf’s 1925 novel that dares to suggest that the smallest moment...
Post a Comment
Read more

Cutting people off isn’t strength—It is a trauma response

Your ability to cut people off and self-isolate is not a skill you should be proud of—It is a trauma response Cutting people off and self-isolating may feel like a protective shield, but it is often rooted in unresolved or unhealed trauma and an inability to depend on others. While these behaviors seem like self-preservation, they end up reinforcing isolation and blocking meaningful connections. Confronting these patterns, seeking therapy, and nurturing supportive relationships can help break this unhealthy cycle. Plus, a simple act like planting a jasmine plant can symbolise the start of your journey towards emotional healing. Why do we cut people off and isolate? If you’re someone who prides themselves on “cutting people off” or keeping a tight circle, you might believe it’s a skill—a way to protect yourself from betrayal, hurt, or unnecessary drama. I get it. I’ve been there, too. But here’s the thing: this ability to isolate yourself is not as empowering as it may seem. In fact, i...
1 comment
Read more

Spill the Tea: Noor and the Silence After Doing Everything right

Noor has done everything she was supposed to do — moved out, built a life, stayed independent. Yet beneath the neat routines and functional success lies a quiet emptiness she cannot name. Part of the Spill the Tea series, this story explores high-functioning loneliness, emotional flatness, and the unsettling fear of living a life that looks complete from the outside. The verandah was brighter than Noor expected. Morning light lay flat across the tiles, showing every faint scuff mark, every water stain from old monsoons. The air smelled of detergent from a neighbour’s washed curtains flapping overhead. On the table, the paneer patties waited in a cardboard bakery box I’d emptied onto a plate. A squeeze bottle of ketchup stood beside it, slightly sticky around the cap. Two cups of tea, steam already thinning. In one corner, a bamboo palm stood in a large terracotta planter. Thin stems. Too many leaves. Trying very hard to look like it belonged indoors. Noor sat down and pulled the chair ...
Post a Comment
Read more