rust verbinding introversie hoogbegaafdheid

The paradox of rest and connection

Karolien Koolhof
The paradox of rest and connection

The paradox of rest and connection is something many introverts and gifted individuals recognise well. You can long for silence and for contact at the same time. You want space to recharge, but also someone with whom you can land for a moment. It sounds contradictory, but psychologically it’s entirely logical. It’s a movement that reflects how we as humans deal with intensity, change, and daily life.

In the past weeks, I noticed this dual need in myself again. Many things were happening at once, and there were moments in which I mainly needed rest, reflection, and a break from stimulation. At the same time, I noticed days when a good conversation helped me regain direction. That back-and-forth didn’t always feel coherent, but it was exactly what my system needed. And the more I read about it, the clearer it became how normal this actually is.

Our nervous system is constantly trying to find balance. Stephen Porges’ polyvagal theory shows that we are not simply “on” or “off,” but constantly scanning for what is needed: relaxation, protection, connection, recovery. Rest activates the body’s recovery mechanisms, and social safety does the same. That’s why after a busy period you may first want to withdraw, and later feel a need for someone who listens. These aren’t opposing needs but two routes to the same goal: regulation and recovery.

Meaningful

Scientific research shows that people recover more quickly from emotional or mental strain when they experience both moments of solitude and moments of meaningful contact. Solitude is not the same as loneliness; it is the space in which you can process, regain perspective, and hear your own thoughts again. Social support is then a source of emotional regulation, because the brain also needs attunement. This combination works better than either one alone—especially for introverts and gifted individuals.

Introverts process more internally. That’s not just a trait; it’s visible neurologically. Their default mode network—the network active when you reflect, think, or make meaning—tends to be more active. This explains why rest and quiet can feel so necessary: the brain needs time to organise information. But that doesn’t mean introverts don’t need connection. On the contrary, research shows that introverts benefit just as much from meaningful relationships as extraverts—they simply benefit less from superficial social interactions. The longing for connection is just as present; the form is simply different. Not small talk, but contact that genuinely adds something.

Depth

For gifted individuals, the dynamic is even more specific. They often seek interactions that are rich in content and emotionally reliable. Conversations that drift into superficiality cost energy, but conversations with room for depth, nuance, and reciprocity can be deeply energising. This aligns with Dabrowski’s theory of intensities: gifted individuals often think and feel deeply and quickly, and they need interactions that match that. Research by Little (2018) and Rinn & Bishop (2015) shows that gifted individuals function better in relationships where depth is natural. Not because they are “difficult,” but because their cognitive and emotional world simply needs it.

This combination of rest and connection often becomes even more visible when life is more intense than usual—because of work, busyness, or personal circumstances. You then notice that you need to switch more often between recharging time and someone who can think or feel along with you. That back-and-forth sometimes feels as if you “don’t know what you want,” while it’s actually a very healthy way your nervous system supports itself. One day silence helps more, another day attunement does. And often you only know in the moment.

Different

The tricky part is that many introverts learned in childhood that their need for rest is “different,” and their need for depth is “too much.” That can create a tendency to want to explain or correct this double movement. But that isn’t necessary at all. You’re allowed to move from one need to the other without having to weave it into a logical story.

The paradox itself is not a contradiction but a flexible form of self-care. Solitude lowers stimulation, reduces stress, and gives room to organise emotions and thoughts. Meaningful connection then helps to place experiences, regulate tension, and strengthen a sense of resilience. Both are essential. And for introverts and gifted individuals, something else plays a role: they are often more sensitive to disharmony, overwhelm, and internal tension, which can make the need for both rest and attuned connection even stronger.

Rhythm

Researchers within self-determination theory (Ryan & Deci, 2000) show that people function optimally when they experience both autonomy (room for themselves) and connectedness. It’s not about choosing but about finding a rhythm that fits you. A rhythm in which you sometimes withdraw, sometimes share, sometimes think, and sometimes talk. A rhythm in which both sides have space. A rhythm that moves.

What I’ve noticed these past few weeks is that when I allow this movement, more calm appears. Not because everything falls into place, but because I stop trying to force it to be one or the other. Sometimes I only realise halfway through the day what I need. Sometimes it shifts within an hour. And that’s okay. The more gentle I am with that, the easier it becomes.

Grounded

Rest keeps you close to yourself. Connection gives a sense of being held. Together, they help you stand firmly enough to keep moving. This dynamic applies not only in difficult periods but really all the time. And the more you recognise it, the easier it becomes to take your own rhythm seriously.

You don’t have to choose between solitude and connection. You don’t have to wonder whether you’re “too changeable.” You don’t have to justify what you need. This paradox is part of your humanity, your energy system, and the way your brain works. It’s not a contradiction but a balance. And the better you understand this balance, the softer it becomes to live in it.

Karolien Koolhof

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