I was born and bred an extrovert. I was homecoming and prom queen, on student government, the expert networker… and then I moved to Qatar.

Being an expat has forced me into an introvert corner that I’d never thought I’d be in. And I am not the only one! There are dozens of articles about this (trust me I know because I thought I was going crazy at first). Moving to another country changes everything. I just didn’t know it would impact my personality in this way.

It started back in the day when I was nice to my apartment security guards. I would say hello to them everyday, roll my window down and have a chat, and treat them like a friend. Then one asked me for one-on-one sessions on my computer. Then another started following me and meeting me at my car. Another gave me a Christmas card for me to give to my sister (I’m still bitter he didn’t give me one…still perplexes me). Where I come from, my actions were respectful and nice. Where they come from, women acting like I did means I must be interested in more (wink wink). I was not. So, after the few months it took me to figure this out, I stopped talking to them as much. I would wave but not smile. I would say ‘thank you’ and not ‘how are you?’. My personality was forced to change.

Politeness does not translate very well. Americans know this because if I said ‘Thank you ma’am’ to a woman in New York she would slap me. If I try to shake some men’s hands here, they will put their hand over their heart signaling that they cannot touch another woman. Dorothy, you’re not in Kansas anymore.

So maybe my personality should only change around men? Well that’s what I thought at first. But I was wrong. For example, there’s a woman I see often in a public bathroom who I great EVERY time I see her. She doesn’t change her face at all. Another speaks English but only smiles when I talk to her. Or I will ask the cashier or taxi driver about their day but not be able to get across a single word. So I stop talking. There are only so many hand signs you can do.

Small talk is dead (this is not the south). I can’t use it during most of my day simply because it’s not received. It takes ten minutes to explain that I want two eggs instead of one in my order, so ‘hey how are you today’ doesn’t really happen. So I shrink back a little. Sometimes I literally crave a conversation with a stranger on the phone to ask me how I am and not just stumble through giving me wrong directions. It takes me longer to get energy from being around people because so many of the people I am around require so much energy.

I have been at this for three years and there has been no change. So do I still talk to strangers? Do I still try? I do, but my expectation of any type of conversation or response ensuing is below zero. The rush of talking to someone has been shot and destroyed because it’s rare I get a conversation back. And so another part of my extroverted nature dies.

This is not limited to non-native English speakers. Because the expat community is so tight and small, people are always wanting to hang out. Because folks are away from their friends and family, they want to hang out even more. At first I loved this. Now, I sometimes feel overwhelmed. Some of my favorite days are days at home with nothing to do. Sometimes I prefer mid-week days off from work so there’s not really anyone to see until later in the day. And sometimes when I tell someone I can’t hang out, I feel guilty if I’m not sick because I literally just want ‘me’ time. Leah in 2015 would not have understood this.

The expat community is also incredibly transient. In the first six months of living abroad, you want everyone to be your friend (because you have no friends). Then summer happens and everyone leaves and you find yourself spending a lot of time alone. Then they return from summer break and want to hang out again and re-enter into the norm you have created. You have to adjust and it can just run you down. That’s when friends get weeded out and a select few become your roots.

My community are family here and I love them. The only difference is that my cup overflows much sooner than it used to. One hangout a week is kind of enough. Is that lame? Am I getting old? It’s a fine line between feeling like I’m losing myself and finally being true to myself.

Don’t worry, the old Leah is not dead (unlike Taylor Swift). When my extroverted juices do come out it’s usually around a few people, not a big crowd like it was in high school. I am more private these days but my job is partly to blame for that. My smaller group of friends get the wilder me (because oh man is she still there), but they also love my quieter side. I am learning to embrace this and not have to pretend to have more energy than I actually do. Part of this chapter is learning to be ok with me and love me all the same, even if I am a recovering extrovert.