My Brain Has Too Many Tabs Open: Squaring My Role as a Tech Leader with My Introverted Reality

I am, if I'm being honest, technically attuned. My brain is a relentless engine of ideas, constantly identifying challenges and architecting solutions for the business. I have so much I want to say, to contribute, to demonstrate. I see the pathways to adding huge value. And yet, there's a disconnect. A profound and often distressing one.

At the recent Oasis concert, Liam asked the crowd to 'turn around and hug a stranger'. The very thought sent a jolt of terror through me. Assuming I could have actually bought tickets, I would have been there for the music, a shared experience from a safe distance, not… that. It instantly brought back a memory from a church event years ago, where the congregation was encouraged to shake hands with strangers. My teeth were on edge. It's the same feeling I get in business meetings when the facilitator cheerfully announces we're going to be "pairing up" or huddling in small groups.

This is my paradox. I can architect a complex cloud infrastructure, but I can't handle forced small talk. In my former business, even as the owner, I found day-to-day staff interaction excruciatingly difficult. The annual Christmas party? A masterclass in personal pain. Even now, in my role as Technical Operations Manager, if a Microsoft Teams meeting ticks over the four-participant mark, my internal alarms start to blare.

For years, I've wrestled with this. Is this a professional failing? A weakness I need to crush? Am I just cripplingly 'shy'?

I'm a good communicator, but on my own terms. I can write an article like this without too much trouble, pouring my thoughts onto the page. But the idea of standing up in a room, even with friends or respected peers, and speaking off the cuff fills me with a sense of panic I can barely contain. My role as Technical Operations Manager demands a high level of interaction, and for a long time, I felt like I was fundamentally broken for the job.

But I'm starting to think I've been asking the wrong question. The real question isn't "How do I fix myself?" It's "How do I work with myself?"

This isn't just shyness, which I see as a fear of being judged. This feels more fundamental. It's about energy. Social engagements, especially unstructured ones, drain my battery at an alarming rate. My ideas, my technical solutions—they are born from a place of deep focus and quiet concentration. The very thing that makes me good at my job is at odds with the performative nature of modern corporate life.

So, this is my journey. Not to overcome who I am, but to continue to build a career that honours it. I'm trying to stop seeing my introversion as a bug and start treating it as a core feature of my operating system. Here are the patches and workarounds I'm developing for myself:

1. I'm Leaning Into My Strengths: The Written Word

Instead of trying to win arguments in a crowded meeting room, I'm doubling down on my writing. Before a big meeting, I now write a detailed pre-read. I lay out my analysis, my proposals, my reasoning. It means I've already 'spoken' before the meeting even starts. It frames the conversation. And the follow-up email? That's my power alley. A concise summary of what was decided and who's doing what reinforces my contribution far more effectively than me trying to shout over the loudest person in the room.

2. I'm Hacking the Meeting

I've realised my best work is done in smaller forums. I'm already proactive about scheduling one-on-one calls with my team. It's in these focused conversations that I can truly listen and articulate my thoughts without the sensory overload of a big group. If I need to influence a larger decision, I do the rounds beforehand, building consensus in chats. By the time the big meeting happens, the real work is already done.

3. I'm Redefining My Role at Social Events

The Christmas party is still not my idea of fun. But I've stopped forcing myself to be the life and soul of it. My new strategy is to have a purpose. I'll set a goal: talk to three specific people about a project, and then give myself permission to leave. Sometimes I think about finding a 'job' to do – helping with the setup, or even just being the person who knows where the coats are. It gives me a reason to interact that isn't just aimless, terrifying mingling.

4. I'm Asking the Big Question: Do I Have to Overcome This?

This is the most important part. For a long time, the answer felt like a resounding 'yes'. But I'm beginning to change my mind. Do I need to stop being triggered by a four-person Teams call? Or do I need to ensure those calls are so well-structured that my input can be delivered logically and efficiently, without the need for social performance? Do I need to become someone who enjoys hugging strangers at a concert? Or do I need to accept that my value lies in my deep thinking, my innovative ideas, and my ability to solve problems – all things that are nurtured by the quiet space my introversion craves?

I'm choosing to believe the latter. My goal is no longer to transform into an extroverted leader. It's to become the most effective and authentic introverted leader I can be. It's a daily struggle, and the panic doesn't just vanish. But by understanding the source of my strength and the nature of my energy, I'm finally learning to square the person I am with the high-profile role I hold. And that, I think, is a challenge worth solving.