by Dr. Kevin Dean, President & CEO, Tennessee Nonprofit Network
Let’s just get this out of the way: I am a massive, room-clearing, hide-in-the-janitor’s-closet-during-a-fire-drill introvert.
I know, I know. You’re probably skeptical. “But you’re always so talkative and friendly at TNN events!” It’s not that I don’t like people. In fact, I love people (a majority of them, at least). I just can’t be around them all the time or I will crumble into a million pieces…or at least it feels that way sometimes.
The truth is, my energy source is not a room full of eager faces; it’s the profound, life-affirming silence of being utterly, wonderfully, and safely alone. I recharge in solitude like a solar panel in a desert—give me a dark room, a lukewarm latte, and an Excel spreadsheet, and I can move mountains.
And that, my dear fellow nonprofiteers, is why 2025 is a special kind of hell for us introverts.
The Raging Dumpster Fire of Uncertainty
For the rest of the world, 2025 might be “a year of transition” or “a dynamic economic landscape.” For the nonprofit sector, it’s less dynamic and more anxiety-inducing. We are all collectively reeling from a perpetual state of emergency that makes the COVID-19 lockdown days feel, dare I say, structured.
We’re battling a hydra-headed monster of uncertainty:
- The Government Funding Fiasco: Trying to secure a grant these days is like applying for a loan from a sentient washing machine that dispenses only confusion and vague regulatory demands. The constant flip-flopping on policy due to new executive orders and shifting legislative priorities means that the budget you painstakingly built on Monday is a quaint piece of historical fiction by Wednesday.
- The Donor Tightening: Inflation isn’t just an abstract economic concept; it’s the reason our major donors are suddenly debating the necessity of replacing that slightly-fraying Persian rug. Their purse strings are tighter than the drum skin on a snare, meaning we’re spending double the time cultivating relationships that may or may not bear fruit.
- The Perpetual Emergency Meeting: Remember when an “Emergency Meeting” was reserved for things like “the building is on fire” or “the data server has achieved sentience and is refusing to do math”? Now, they’re scheduled for every Tuesday at 9:00 AM, just to discuss the anticipated impact of an abstract political rumor on the price of office supplies.
This pervasive chaos is utterly exhausting. But for the introvert, it is structurally lethal.
The Death of the Back-Row Strategy
Historically, the nonprofit sector was a beautiful sanctuary for the thoughtful introvert. Our survival strategy was simple, elegant, and highly effective:
- The Subterranean Workflow: Keep your head down. Focus on the mission. The actual work—the grant writing, the data analysis, the program design—is perfectly suited for quiet, sustained periods of solo concentration.
- The Meeting Invisibility Cloak: Enter the conference room late. Sit in the chair closest to the door. Master the art of the Neutral Nod, which signals engagement without requiring vocal commitment. Leave during a natural break (ideally, when someone starts discussing KPIs).
- The Digital Moat: Respond to emails efficiently. Never use the phone. Utilize Slack status settings like “Focusing” even when you are just staring at the wall, thinking about the quiet majesty of a pigeon.
2025 has blown up this strategy with extreme prejudice.
This year is a collaborative hellscape. The problems are so large, so interconnected, and so rapidly changing that no single person, or even a single department, can solve them alone. We are being pulled out of our comfortable isolation and thrust into an endless parade of “synergy sessions,” “cross-functional teams,” and mandatory “coalition building.”
You can’t keep your head down when the roof is literally on fire. You must lean in.
The Scientific Reality of Introversion (It’s Not Shyness, It’s Wiring)
For too long, introversion has been mistaken for shyness, social anxiety, or a general lack of gusto. Let me clear this up with a blast of delightful, scientific snark: Introversion is a neurological preference, not a personality flaw.
Research, primarily focusing on brain chemistry and the nervous system, tells us that introverts and extroverts process stimuli—especially social stimulation—differently.
- Dopamine Sensitivity: Extroverts have a highly active dopamine reward system. They thrive on external stimulation and social engagement because these things give them a hefty hit of the “feel-good” neurotransmitter, dopamine. They literally need the buzz of the group to feel energized.
- Acetylcholine and Focus: Introverts, however, rely more on acetylcholine, which is associated with alertness, learning, and sustained concentration. Our reward is the satisfying feeling of deep, focused work. Too much external (read: social) stimulation—the noise, the movement, the need to respond instantly—overwhelms our system, leading to burnout, or what I call “The Great Social Energy Drain.”
So, when 2025 demands that we go to three coalition strategy meetings, two impromptu donor lunches, and an all-hands-on-deck whiteboard session before noon, our neurological systems are screaming “RED ALERT! OVERLOAD IMMINENT! SEEK BUNKER NOW!”
The Introvert’s Call to Unnatural Action
This is the unpleasant truth: The nonprofit challenges of 2025—the existential threats to our missions—require us to act against our nature. We must:
- Be Visible: The issues are political, financial, and regulatory. We need seats at the table to shape the conversation, articulate the needs of our communities, and safeguard our missions. Sitting in the back doesn’t cut it when the fate of your annual budget is being decided in the front.
- Collaborate Relentlessly: Whether it’s forming an advocacy coalition to lobby the state legislature or partnering with a local foundation to pool shrinking resources, isolation is professional suicide. We have to talk, plan, and execute with others, constantly.
- Speak Up: Our superpower is not performative charm; it is deep thought. We process slowly, but our contributions are often the most considered, the most insightful, and the most strategically sound. We cannot afford to let the loudest voice in the room (likely an extrovert who hasn’t fully digested the data) drive the strategy.
We have to lean in—and it’s going to hurt. But the mission is bigger than our need for a dark, quiet cave.
Survival Guide: Leaning In Without Burning Out
Going against your nature doesn’t mean abandoning your needs. It means strategically defending your energy reserves.
For the Introvert (Set Your Boundaries Like a Fortress):
- The Strategic Retreat (Schedule Isolation): Block out two hours every day on your calendar as “Deep Focus” or, more truthfully, “Do Not Disturb Unless Building is On Fire.” Do not answer emails. Do not accept meetings. Use this time to process all the social input you absorbed. This is your essential recharge period.
- The Pre-emptive Ask (Demand the Agenda): Never attend a meeting unprepared. Email the host and demand a clear, detailed agenda 48 hours in advance. This gives you time to process the topics, formulate your thoughts (and your snarky counterpoints), and ensure that when it’s your turn, your insight is sharp and focused, not a mumbled reaction.
- The Designated Communicator (Share the Burden): When joining a coalition or team, volunteer for the roles that favor your strengths: written communication (drafting the proposal, summarizing the meeting, compiling the data). Let an extroverted colleague be the “face” or the primary spokesperson for the group’s initial pitch. You’ll bring in the thoughtful closing arguments.
- The Walk-and-Talk (The Outdoor Meeting Hack): When a one-on-one meeting is necessary, suggest a walk outside. Being side-by-side, moving, and having the vastness of the outdoors as a less intense backdrop can reduce the draining eye contact and intensity of a small, windowless conference room.
For the Extrovert (Be an Ally, Not a Drain):
Extroverts, bless your dazzling, high-energy hearts, you often mistake silence for assent or lack of interest. You can be the vital bridge that brings the introvert’s quiet genius to the forefront.
- The Agenda is Life: Send out that agenda early. Highlight the items that require input. An introvert who has had time to process an issue will deliver a strategy; an introvert who is sprung on will deliver a terrified grunt.
- Share the Floor (The Direct Call-In): In a meeting, if you notice an introvert hasn’t spoken up, don’t just wait. The quiet ones need a ramp. Say something like, “[Introvert’s Name], you spent a lot of time analyzing the impact data for this proposal; what are your key takeaways regarding the risk assessment?” This validates their preparation and provides a clean opening they can’t easily avoid.
- The Pause is Not Empty: When someone stops talking, do not immediately fill the silence. Introverts need a moment to formulate their thoughts before they speak—a crucial difference from extroverts, who often think by speaking. Count to three silently after a major point is raised. It’s awkward, but it allows for deeper ideas to surface.
- Don’t Confuse Busy with Free: Stop swinging by desks for “a quick chat.” It’s an ambush. It destroys the fragile ecosystem of concentration. Send a calendar invite or a clear Slack message: “Can we connect about X for 10 minutes at 2 PM?” Respect the time boundaries.
Conclusion: The Quiet Revolution
2025 is a nightmare of constant “people-ing,” but it’s also an unprecedented opportunity for the introverted mind to shine. The chaos demands not just action, but thoughtful, sustained, strategic action—and that is our wheelhouse.
We may hate the meetings, loathe the mandatory collaboration, and dream of a world where we can communicate solely through well-edited memos, but the mission requires us to show up. We must weaponize our ability to concentrate deeply, process complex data, and deliver considered insights, even if it means we spend every evening lying face-down on the floor, recharging our acetylcholine supply.
Lean in, nonprofiteers. The sector needs your quiet genius. Just make sure to block out next Friday for a mandatory, silent, non-negotiable mental health day.