Six unexpected insights on introversion

This week Quiet Quality turns six. Six years ago, just before the pandemic, I took my first step as an independent coach, without knowing exactly where it would lead. What I did know was that introversion needed a place. There were too many misconceptions, too many people who thought something was wrong with them simply because they worked or thought differently.

Those first months were exciting. I sometimes doubted whether I had enough to offer, whether I was visible enough, and whether there was even a real need for my story. Yet I felt that this was the path meant for me. Six years later, I look back on hundreds of conversations, trainings, lectures, and blogs. And on my own development: from someone who often kept herself small, to someone who increasingly dares to claim her place.

Over the past years I’ve learned a lot. Not just about introversion in theory, but especially in practice: in the stories of clients, in the dynamics of teams, and in the mirror my own business held up to me. Some insights I could never have predicted. That’s why, in honor of this anniversary, I want to share six lessons that have stayed with me – and that might help you too.

Introversion is not just about energy, but also about meaning

In books you often read that introversion is about energy: recharging in solitude, being drained in busy situations. That’s true, but what I’ve seen more and more in practice is that energy often goes hand in hand with meaning.

A coachee once told me that she was exhausted by after-work drinks with colleagues, but lit up when she got to present her own research at a large conference. The difference wasn’t in the number of people or the amount of stimuli, but in whether it felt meaningful. Many introverts are allergic to emptiness: meetings without outcomes, conversations without depth. As soon as there’s meaning, the fatigue often disappears like snow in the sun.

That insight also changed me. I’m not a fan of networking in the traditional sense, but if I notice that I can have a real conversation, I almost naturally come alive. It’s less about how much energy something costs, and more about whether it’s worth it.

Recognition comes before strategy

When I started, I thought practical tips were the key: how to prepare for a meeting, how to handle small talk, how to recover from overstimulation. But I discovered there’s a deeper layer: recognition.

One client once told me: “I always thought I was broken.” Only when he learned that introversion is simply a temperament, not a defect, did a huge weight fall from his shoulders. From that moment on, I didn’t have to convince him to set boundaries or make different choices. He dared to do it himself, because he no longer saw himself as “broken.”

I noticed the same in myself. In the years before I started my business, I thought I had to compensate: work harder, act more extroverted, hide my need for rest. Now I know that real growth only begins once you fully acknowledge yourself as you are.

Silence is not a pause, but a source

Silence is often seen as uncomfortable. In meetings, someone fills the space; in conversations, people feel the urge to respond quickly. But in six years of coaching, I’ve learned that silence is anything but empty. I often use it deliberately in my sessions.

I remember a training where I asked a question and one participant remained silent for minutes. You could feel the tension in the group: “Say something, fill the gap.” Until she began to speak. And she went straight to the heart of what the team was struggling with. Silence gave her the space to organize her thoughts, and the result was an answer worth ten quick reactions.

In my own work, silence has also become a source. When I write, I often leave deliberate space. In those silences, ideas bubble up that don’t surface if I keep pushing myself. And in coaching conversations, silence can be deeply functional, giving the other person room to share more. For introverts, silence isn’t a luxury, but a foundation.

Extraverted behavior isn’t a mask, but a muscle

Many introverts tell me they’re afraid of being inauthentic when they show extraverted behavior: giving a presentation, taking the lead, speaking up spontaneously. As if they’re wearing a mask that distances them from their true self.

What I’ve learned is that it often feels more like a muscle you can train. You flex it consciously when needed, and then you can let it relax again. That makes it lighter, because you don’t always have to stay in that mode.

A coachee who aspired to a leadership role doubted whether it was possible with her introversion. Until she realized: I can use that muscle in meetings or difficult conversations, and then consciously switch back. That didn’t make it inauthentic – it made it powerful. Because she had the choice of when to use that muscle.

There is strength in slowness

Our world rewards speed: quick reactions, instant opinions, rapid switching. Introverts often feel inadequate because they don’t have immediate answers.

I once saw how a coachee had felt stupid for years because she froze in group discussions. But when we explored her thinking style, it turned out she often made connections afterwards that others had completely missed. Her “slowness” wasn’t a flaw, but depth.

I noticed the same in my own work: my best ideas for a blog or training rarely come during the hustle, but often days later, when I’ve had time to let things settle. Slowness can be frustrating, but it often brings a quality that speed alone can never achieve.

You don’t need to be visible to have impact

When I started Quiet Quality, I thought success meant: always being visible. Speaking to large audiences, active on social media, constantly in the spotlight. And I did those things, but sometimes it felt like I was going against my own nature. There wasn’t enough room for nuance.

What I discovered is that impact often works in subtler ways. A client who said after coaching: “For the first time, I feel there’s nothing wrong with me.” A LinkedIn post someone remembered weeks later. A quiet participant in a training who told me afterwards: “I didn’t say much, but I’m taking so much with me.”

These are moments of impact you don’t always see, but they make a real difference. For introverts, it’s often true: you don’t need to be loud to be heard. Sometimes it’s exactly that one sentence, at the right moment, that changes everything.

Looking back and looking ahead

When I look back at six years of Quiet Quality, I mostly see a journey from holding myself back to standing more firmly in my place. In the beginning, I tried to fit into an extroverted norm, as if that was necessary to be taken seriously. Now I know my strength lies in staying true to my own style: deep, reflective, nuanced.

Maybe that’s my seventh lesson: that growing as an entrepreneur and growing as a person are not separate. My business is a mirror that keeps showing me: you don’t need to change who you are to make an impact. You only need to stay true to your own voice.

Grateful

An anniversary is a good moment to pause, but also to look ahead. I feel grateful to all the clients who shared their stories with me, to the readers who kept following my blogs, to the organizations that were open to a different perspective.

And I look forward to bringing this story further. Because the work is far from done. Misconceptions about introversion still exist. People still feel unseen for who they are. My mission is to fill that silence with recognition, nuance, and strength.

Six years ago I started with a spark of curiosity and a big dose of doubt. Now I’m stepping into my seventh year with confidence, inspiration, and the conviction that Quiet Quality stands for exactly what I want to show: that quality doesn’t need to be loud to be powerful.