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The mind of a social introvert: executive job hunting reflections 

This is a powerful and very real reflection, and it taps into a deep emotional and strategic challenge that many executives—especially introverted ones—face in a serious job search. Here’s a thoughtful rewrite for your article draft that keeps the vulnerability and depth but also shapes it for clarity, flow, and impact:

The Mind of a Painfully Social Introvert: Executive Job Hunting Reflections

This morning, as I sat in quiet prayer, I tried to imagine: What if I were a client of Browning Associates? What would this process really look like for me?

Step one would be making a list of everyone I know. Simple in theory. But in practice? Here’s where my introverted mind starts spiraling.

I think about each name on that list—old colleagues, distant connections, friends I haven’t spoken to in years. Some, I honestly can’t even picture myself calling. Others? I know exactly how it would go: we’d end up on the phone for two, maybe three hours, reminiscing about old times. And the whole time, a little voice in my head would be whispering: “This is pointless. There’s no way this person is going to connect me to anyone helpful. And even if they do, will they remember? Should I call again? When? How often?”

The idea of just one of these calls can be exhausting. Multiply that by 20, 30, even 50 names, and my mind goes into full retreat mode. Do I really need to reach out to all these people? Should I focus my efforts only on those who seem likely to know someone in my industry?

And then there’s the follow-up. Let’s say my list grows to 50 people—how do I keep in touch with 50 people in a way that feels personalized and authentic? How do I avoid becoming just another email in their inbox?

The deeper question creeps in: Is it even worth it? Wouldn’t it be easier to just keep applying for jobs online, even if it means settling for something less? At least when I’m stuck in a bad job, the rejection and frustration come gradually. This—this networking work—feels like throwing myself headlong into a sea of rejection right now.

And it’s personal. People don’t call back. They make promises they don’t keep. Every little letdown chips away at my confidence. By the time I do land an interview, I worry that I’ll be so beaten down, I won’t have the energy left to shine.

So here’s the real question I’m wrestling with: Is there a way to govern the rejection? Should I be strategic—reaching out only to people whose rejection wouldn’t sting as much? Should I pace myself, only contacting a handful of people at a time to avoid being overwhelmed?

Because right now, the emotional toll of reaching out feels heavier than the grind of a bad job. And that’s saying something.

But here’s what I’m starting to realize: this fear—the exhaustion, the worry, the rejection—it’s not a sign that I’m failing. It’s a sign that I’m human. And if I can learn to work with my introversion, rather than against it, this whole process might just become… not easy, but doable.

For one, I don’t have to call everyone. I can curate my network—not just by who might have the best connections, but by who is most likely to be supportive, positive, and energizing. Sometimes the best leads don’t come from the obvious places anyway; they come through genuine relationships.

Second, I can pace myself. Who says I have to talk to 50 people this month? What if I commit to just two or three conversations a week—enough to keep the momentum going but not so much that I burn out? I can keep a simple tracking sheet and set gentle reminders to follow up—spreading the effort over weeks or even months.

And I can script my asks. One of the hardest parts of networking for introverts is not knowing what to say. But with a little prep—a short, clear message that explains what I’m looking for—I can keep the conversations focused. That way, even if I end up reminiscing about old times, I’ve planted the seed for what I really need.

Finally, I need to remind myself that rejection isn’t personal. Silence isn’t a verdict on my worth. It’s just part of the process. And the only way to really govern the rejection is to change my mindset: instead of seeing it as a personal loss, I can see each outreach—each email, each call—as a win. Every step forward is a step closer to the right door opening.

And when that day comes—when the interview happens and the opportunity is real—I’ll know that I didn’t just land the job. I earned it, one courageous step at a time.

So maybe the real question isn’t “How do I avoid the pain of networking?” Maybe it’s: “How do I walk through the pain with grace and persistence, trusting that God is leading me to something better?”

Because in the end, that’s what will make the difference—not just in my career, but in who I’m becoming.

And here’s where faith steps in—because the truth is, I’m not walking through this alone. Proverbs 3:5-6 says, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.”

This job search—this vulnerable, sometimes exhausting process of putting myself out there—isn’t just a career move. It’s an act of trust. Every call I make, every message I send, is a way of saying, “Lord, I’m doing my part. I’m stepping out in faith. Now I’m trusting You with the results.”

And that trust anchors me. It reminds me that my worth doesn’t rise and fall based on callbacks or interviews. My identity is secure—not in what I achieve, but in Who I belong to.

So I keep going, not because it’s easy, but because I believe that faithfulness—in the small steps, in the quiet persistence—will lead to a breakthrough in God’s perfect time.

And in the end, the real victory won’t just be landing the job. It will be looking back and realizing: I walked through the storm, and God carried me every step of the way.