When You’re Misunderstood for Needing Space

(mouse clicking) (gentle music) Headspace Studios. (soft serene music) (water whooshing) Hey friends, it's Rosie. Welcome back to "Radio Headspace." So the other night, I was in the kitchen with a couple of close friends. We were chatting, laughing, making tea, one of those cozy catchup nights that feel easy. And then it happened. With a grin and zero malice, my friend said, "Oh, Rosie, that's so you. You're just so antisocial." And in that moment, time froze. I laughed politely, but inside, I felt like that little spark of heat in my chest, you know the one, the mix of, "Wait, what?", and, "Why does that sting so much?" Because I'm not antisocial. I'm an introverted extrovert. I love people. I love long conversations, deep connection, big belly laughs. But sometimes I'd rather be home alone, quiet, recharging my energy, especially when it comes to LA events. Because if you know, you know. The small talk, the noise, the social performance of it all, it can feel taxing. But hearing someone label me as antisocial in front of others made me feel exposed, misunderstood and weirdly judged for needing space. A few weeks earlier, the same friend had invited me to a string of events and I'd politely declined each time. She's a social butterfly, the kind of person who can thrive in a crowded room and remember everyone's name. I adore that about her, but I also knew my limits. When I shared that with her, she teased me, lightly, of course. So when she brought it up again in front of our other friends, I felt that familiar shame creep in. Like I'd failed some unspoken test of likability. And that's when I realized this wasn't about being antisocial. It was about being misunderstood in the space where I'm most tender, how I connect and how I rest. It's funny because for a long time, I saw this quality of mine as kind of a failure. To me, not fitting in meant risking being unliked, it felt like falling short of what people expected. Psychologists call this Self-Discrepancy Theory. It's the gap between who we are, who we think we should be, and who others expect us to be. And that gap doesn't just exist for me. It's something we all experience. So often, we treat our personal quirks or our differences as flaws to be fixed instead of qualities to understand and accept. When we can meet those parts of ourselves with compassion instead of shame, we realize that not fitting in isn't a failure. It's individuality. It's the way we honor who we truly are, even when it doesn't match the mold. And for introverted extroverts, this happens all the time. We're comfortable in connection, but we need solitude to refuel. That duality can be hard for people to understand, especially those who draw energy from others. (soft serene music) So that night, I could have said, "Actually, I love being social. I just need more downtime...