As a highly sensitive introvert, I find it hard not to absorb my teen’s restless energy or constantly jump in with help and advice.
As many writers on this website have eloquently expressed, being an introvert can make you a wonderful parent. There are several reasons for this. Introverts, perhaps, are better able to give their children full, focused attention. We savor quiet time at home — reading books, playing on the floor, or hanging out one-on-one at a park. And if you’re a highly sensitive introvert, you likely understand your children deeply and instinctively.
When my children were toddlers and preschoolers, I could tell instantly by the look on their faces when they were ready to leave a playdate. Even in infancy, I understood — on a visceral level — when my introverted kids were overstimulated by a gymnastics class or overwhelmed by the noise at a restaurant, because I often felt the same way.
However, I’m finding these qualities, which I’ve come to see as superpowers rather than hindrances, are a double-edged sword as my kids reach their teenage years.
Teaching Them Not to Fake Extroversion
I feel fortunate to have been raised by thoughtful parents at a time when introversion was highly stigmatized. My parents understood me and were introverts to varying degrees themselves. However, I didn’t identify as an “introvert” until well into adulthood.
I always had a vague sense that my preference for smaller groups and quieter activities was somehow a shortcoming. I “faked it” through Friday night football games, where teens mingled and jockeyed for social position (the memory still makes me shudder). Yet, I’d secretly long for the game to end so a small circle of friends could settle in at someone’s house for the night.
As evolved as they were, my father, clearly an introvert, still seems to have trouble saying the word out loud. Often, he follows it with, “but I have other skills that are crucial for professional success…” Unfortunately, this disclaimer doesn’t help normalize introversion. And plenty of introverts have been highly successful — from U.S. Presidents like Abraham Lincoln and Jimmy Carter to iconic women like Jill Biden and Oprah.
So, with my own kids, I try to encourage them not to “fake it” like I did.
Finding the Balance Between Saying Yes and Staying in Their Comfort Zone
In our home, we’re making a conscious effort to embrace and celebrate introversion. My son even has a copy of Susan Cain’s Quiet, and we often talk about personality traits, including introversion.
It’s a near-constant effort to keep open discussions with my teens about stressful or uncomfortable situations and how to handle them. But these conversations are essential.
A recurring theme is choosing when to push past comfort zones to try new, even daunting things. It’s a balancing act. My son explored many classic elementary school activities — Boy Scouts, robotics club, soccer, violin. None truly captured his interest. He’d rather come home to play with his brother or dive into a book. We continue to encourage him to say yes to new things but allow him to say no when he needs to.
For me, it’s also a near-constant effort to support my son through the ups and downs of teenage life without getting pulled into the hormonal rollercoaster myself. As a highly sensitive introvert, I feel his stress over school presentations and crowded lunchrooms deeply, recalling my own similar experiences from that age.
For instance, a recent high school awards ceremony brought back a flood of memories. Teachers selected a “student of the year” in each subject, and certain kids received multiple awards. When I noticed a shadow of disappointment on my son’s face, I leaned over and reminded him that introverts don’t always get recognized at events like this. In my experience, teachers often choose extroverted students, the “leaders” who frequently speak up. Still, his skills and talents as an introvert are just as valuable, even if they aren’t always publicly celebrated.
This feels especially big for my son because his younger brother, an easygoing extrovert, frequently receives awards and recognition. It brings back fond memories of the teachers who truly saw me and other quiet kids in my class. And I’m deeply grateful for the teachers who’ve made my son feel seen and valued as an introvert.
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Being a Teenager Is Hard Enough — But Being a Highly Sensitive Introvert Makes It Even Harder
In all of these moments — and countless others that bring back my own teenage memories — I remind myself: Does anyone really enjoy their teen years? It’s a challenge for everyone, but perhaps it’s a unique kind of struggle for an introvert, especially a highly sensitive one.
As a highly sensitive person myself, it’s hard not to absorb my teen’s restless energy when he sets his book down and begins pacing around the house. I’ll catch the furrow in his brow and suggest he take the dog for a walk. Sometimes I’ll send him a funny meme or share an interesting article. Or I might suggest he try a new recipe in the kitchen. He has a sweet tooth and has perfected a caramel sauce he laps up with a spoon while reading his latest book.
(Are you a highly sensitive person? Here are 27 “strange” things highly sensitive people do.)
I also remind myself to keep some emotional distance from his teenage rollercoaster ride. As much as I want to jump in and help, he has to find his own way. I follow the potted plant theory: I stay nearby but resist the urge to ask a million questions about his day. I’m here for unconditional support and occasional advice when he’s open to it.
Like him, I turn to books for comfort. Commonwealth, a beautiful novel by Ann Patchett, perfectly captures teenage angst:
“His expression is one of simmering fury, but then it always is. He doesn’t want to be in Virginia, doesn’t want to be with his sisters… with his stepmother, with his grandparents. He doesn’t want to curry the horses, to be bitten by the flies and mosquitoes, to stand in the stink of shit and hay, but there is nothing better to do. That’s the trouble with being fifteen — all he can think of is what he doesn’t want.”
I take a deep breath and remind myself that these years, though difficult, are formative and necessary. I know he (and I) will get through them, supported by good books, empathetic adults, and a world that’s thankfully more understanding of introversion and sensitivity. 
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