Participation: A Night at the Races.

I spent my Saturday evening in a large hall with my boyfriend, his family, a large group of their family friends and all the other random people there that I didn't know. The aim of the evening was to bet on horses and the money remaining after everyone collected their winnings would go to charity.

I didn't really understand what the event entailed, as minimal information was provided -thankfully upon entry we were given a programme to tell us what was going on. There were nine races in all -although one was run three times due to technical difficulties- and six 'horses' in each race. The horses were made of wood and at the front had a little clip, where a piece of string could be hooked; the string then led up to a metal frame with a handle. Once six people had volunteered to be jockeys, selected their number and paraded around the hall in a circle around the 'track' it was their job to wind up the string as fast as they possibly could. Whoever wound the fastest, was obviously the one to drag their wooden horse over the finish line first, and therefore the winner. As this was happening the odds were calculated for each horse, so the 'punters' could collect the correct winnings.

Me being my introverted self had absolutely no desire in partaking in any way other than being one of the 'punters.' However, as the picture below indicates, I didn't quite get my way. My boyfriend's mother had sponsored one of the races and named it after her father. Because of this it was decided that all of us should be jockeys in that race, and there just so happened to be six of us, so there was no backing out unless I wanted to annoy, upset or disappoint a few people.

So I tried to muster up enough enthusiasm as I could to take part in my race. I didn't manage to muster up much and felt fairly ridiculous throughout. Especially as I was dressed in a beautiful jockey's outfit and my hand kept slipping off the plastic handle. I ended up coming fifth; but that doesn't really bother me. I'm really not the competitive sort, and just by looking at the two people next to me you can kind of tell there was no way I was coming first -number 2 came first in all three races he volunteered for.

Taking our positions. I'm in the ever-so-stylish number 3 vest/bib.

Now I know this is the part where I'm supposed to say 'although I didn't want to, I'm so glad I participated;' but that isn't what I'm going to say. I'm quite frankly indifferent to the fact that I took part in a race. A number of family friends present where a lot more enthusiastic about my participation than I ended up being. And that is something I find really interesting. 

I know they were probably just doing it to be nice, but the fact they chose to cheer me on when they've known everyone else much longer, implies to me it was a case of, 'Look! Hannah's taking part. She's trying to come out of her shell, let's support her for doing this.' Again, I know that probably sounds like a nice gesture, but I wasn't all that keen on it. I wasn't trying to come out of my shell. I felt slightly pressured into partaking, when I was more than happy just sat watching the races and occasionally placing bets.

It just seems to me that people are never really happy with me being me. Everyone, ever since I was in primary school, has always wanted me to 'come out of my shell,' but I'm more than happy in my shell. If I don't feel like participating in something, pressuring me into coming out of this 'shell' of mine really isn't going to encourage me. I just can't fathom why everyone needs to participate, why everyone needs to be outgoing and happy-go-lucky. I'm none of these things. I participate when I think I have something valid or valuable to offer; I think things through; I weigh up the pros and cons; I plan things almost meticulously, and I have no intention of changing.

What makes this simple race night even more amusing to me, is that right before we went to it we went to visit my boyfriend's grandmother. I've met her many times and she has commented on my quiet and reserved ways in the past. She did the same that day and as she hugged me goodbye she whispered in my ear -even though it was audible enough for the three other people in the room to hear- "Let yourself go." Yet another encouragement, from yet another person to come out of my shell. Now I know that she meant well and I appreciate that she cares enough to give me advice. But it just brought me back to the reason I started this blog a few days ago.

Quiet. Susan Cain, is the one person who has reassured me in my belief that I'm perfectly fine the way I am. Her book is just so empowering to me. I'm an introvert who has no intention of pretending to be an extrovert. I am me and I don't plan on changing that for anybody. Unfortunately though, because I don't plan on changing, it means I have to justify my ways and actions to countless people. I even find myself justifying my introverted behaviours to my boyfriend from time to time.

To anyone who is still reading this post, there is something I want you to take away from this. I want you to know, that whether you're an introvert or an extrovert, you are perfectly fine the way you are. Do what makes you feel comfortable; don't feel pressured into doing things; and don't feeling like you have to change for or justify yourself to others.

You be you, I'll be me, and in the words of John and Hank Green: Don't forget to be awesome.

-Hannah. :)