I am not the most energetic, cheerful, outgoing person you'll ever meet. Not for lack of interest or empathy. I'm just genuinely introverted. I like to listen. I like to let ideas settle before I respond. For a long time I told myself this was fine, because my job doesn't really demand sociability. I'm not in sales. I mostly deal with other developers, or with my own code. We're not a public-facing profession. You can get away with being quieter here.
But with time I've come to see that this is only half true. Communication, networking, and social skills are still a meaningful part of a developer's career, especially if you want to progress, work in higher-level environments, and connect with people who genuinely challenge you. Introversion isn't a disqualification. But using it as a permanent excuse starts to cost you things.
Remote work makes this more complicated in interesting ways. The lifestyle suits me well. It aligns with how I like to work and live. But the social dynamics shift in ways that took me a while to fully reckon with. In an office, even the shyest person gets some incidental contact. A coffee, lunch, a passing conversation in a corridor. You exist in people's peripheral vision. Remote strips most of that away, and what's left requires more deliberate effort.
It becomes very easy to shrink into a comfort zone. You talk to your immediate team because you have to, because there are tickets to move and problems to solve. Everyone else in the company becomes a name in a Slack channel, someone you react to with an emoji but never really know. It takes almost no effort to stay there.
The company I work at makes it easier than most. Cross-team groups, social channels, in-person events a few times a year. People are genuinely friendly. The environment is there. But having the environment available and actually using it are two different things, especially when you're carrying years of ingrained habits: speak only when you're the expert, don't bother people, know your place.
Those loops don't break easily, even when the circumstances invite you to try.
So this year I've been making a real effort to be more open. Not to gain visibility, not to perform friendliness, not to collect brownie points. It's simpler than that: I'm surrounded by brilliant people, and hiding behind politeness and anxiety would be a waste I'd genuinely regret. That's reason enough.
It's going. Ups and downs. Some days I feel more at ease; other days I notice myself slipping back into old patterns. One thing I've become more aware of is how much the effort still costs me. The overthinking that follows every interaction — was that message fine, should I have said that, did I disturb someone — is genuinely draining. The social act itself is one thing. The cognitive loop afterward is another.
But I also know it gets lighter with practice. I've already seen it with my own team. Early on, every message felt like a small performance. Now it doesn't. The same will happen with wider circles if I keep showing up consistently.
I have a lot to learn. I have good examples around me. I'm observing, I'm practicing. I'm curious to see where this takes me.