The quiet ones
The label ‘introvert’ never quite fit. I’ve always wanted to be around people, but a powerful shyness got in the way. It wasn’t a lack of social energy, I now realize, but a trait that results in a heightened sensitivity to sensory stimuli.
Roughly 15–20% of the population is highly sensitive, according to Psychologist Elaine Aron who developed the concept of highly sensitive persons (HSPs).
In group settings, this feels like sensory overload. The mind’s engine floods. Instead of tracking the conversation, I’m distracted by the high-wire electricity of the room. The result is a familiar, out-of-sync feeling that just comes across as awkwardness. It raises the question: how does this trait translate to the remote worker?
Remote work changes many things, but not social dynamics.
This might not be new to everyone, but for me, a simple feature became a revelation: the “raise your hand” button.
We use google meet, which has this feature, but I assume other applications do as well. It’s a game-changer. Cutting in using solely my voice was always the difficult part. My mind would overthink it, and I’d lose the group’s topic focus, letting the moment float right past me.
Now, I’ll click that button sometimes before I’m quite ready to compose myself, knowing I’m nearly there. It signals my intent and prevents the current speaker’s train of thought from ending before I get my chance. It solves the problem of waiting too long for the moment to pass.
Yes, your sensitivity is a superpower.
I’m reminded of the line from the band Deerhunter:
“you should take your handicaps, channel them and feed them back, until they become your strengths, hollowed out.”
Yes, it feels generic and overdone, but I see its truth in small ways. I’ve been told I ask the right questions at the right time—sometimes the hard ones. Where others might focus on a single metric, a sensitive nature can’t help but see how things connect. It’s a knack for holistic thinking.
The real turning point, however, was a private mindset shift. For years, my shyness and low self-esteem created a feedback loop: I’d enter a social situation expecting it to go wrong, and it would. The simple, radical idea that changed things was flipping the script. Instead of defaulting to the worst-case scenario, I started to ask, “What if this works out exactly the way I want it to?” It’s a small question that is built-in to people with a more inherent sense of self, but it shifts you from a passive role to an active one.
The ‘Good Listener’ Trap
One part of my job I absolutely love is collaborating in really small groups, which is handy, if not essential, in the design industry. There’s a perfect group size for me where I can be my best self.
Another critical factor is not having an “energy suck” as part of the group. By that, I mean someone who loves talking, is not a great listener, and creates an environment where it’s hard for quieter people to speak up. I’ve worked with and sat next to those designers before, and it’s rough. I’m not sure I was even aware of how detrimental it was to my productivity, efficiency, and creativity at the time. If I had been, I might have had the guts to ask my manager to be moved.
Alas, I played the “good listener” role. On face value, being a good listener is a great trait. But for me, it sometimes became a trap where I slid from being an active listener into a passive one. The babbler ends up stealing all my energy, leaving me feeling empty and without enough grounding to speak my piece. It’s an unbalanced dynamic.
The goal is to shift from a passive listener—one who gets bowled over to an active one who contributes, rather than just playing therapist.
The Hidden Value of Your Words
Here’s one last trick that’s easy to forget: for people who aren’t always talking: your words have more worth.
Don’t hoard your ‘word value.’ Spend it. When you do, people listen.
I’ve even been told by the babblers that it comes off as profound. They expect this from shyer people—they’ll be quiet, and then every now and then, something profound will drip poetically out of them. Now, I think this is just perception, but it’s a perception that can be a real advantage.
You Are Not Alone
One of the things about being a shy person is that I’ve been told by many people—when I disclose that I am extremely shy—that they’re surprised and didn’t have a clue. This is nothing short of a revlation when it happens. It means so much of my subjective worry and overthinking doesn’t make it outside of myself.
Being this way led me to be envious of the smooth-talking designers I passed throughout my career, especially the ones who weren’t any good at designing but were great at talking.
Now that I have kids, I’ve come to the realization that being social, listening to people, and being good in groups is one of the best skills you can have in our society—better than any hard skill. Those can come later and easier; the soft ones are hard to teach.
I realize I just keep repeating familiar tropes: exposure to your fear helps lower it, turn your weaknesses into strengths, and look on the bright side of life. But maybe you needed a refresh. Another strength folks like us have is empathy. Use that sensitivity you have to notice the other quieter ones and help build them up. Acts of service like this are what I think make a life meaningful, even if others above or around you don’t notice.
As I record this on my phone while hiking, let me say this to the shy designers out there (and to my future self): you’re not alone. Your sensitive, pattern-seeing eyes are not a weakness; they are a gift. Respect them.
