I was frozen—staring at my score on the first scale of the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator®.

Introverted.

I’d heard the word before.

But now it was describing someone who craves quiet time alone. Someone who thrives on deep thinking and careful preparation. Someone who draws energy, meaning, and direction from an inner world.

Someone for whom less is more and more is noise.

My reaction?

Holy shit.

There’s nothing wrong with me.

I’m an introvert.

And just like that—the lifelong belief that something was wrong with me . . . evaporated.

Ha ha!

No.

But I finally had a plausible alternative to consider.

Maybe my way of being is not only not-negative.
It’s positive.
And maybe I don’t have to fight against it.
I can run with it.

I’ve spent the last three decades perfecting how to do just that.

Let’s get you there quicker.