That means I don’t just enjoy people—I need people. Social interaction isn’t a nice-to-have for me; it’s like oxygen. When I go too long without real connection, I start to feel foggy, restless, even physically off. It’s not about loneliness, exactly. It’s more like sensory deprivation. And while I do socialize a lot, I’ve been reflecting lately on the difference between the kinds of social time that restore me and the kinds that just take up space.

Restorative vs. Transactional Social Time

Some social time fills your cup. Some just rearranges the dishes.

Restorative social time is the kind that leaves me feeling more like myself—more grounded, more energized. It’s when I laugh until I cry with a friend, have a real conversation, or sit with people who just get me without requiring me to perform.

Transactional social time, on the other hand, often looks similar from the outside—but it doesn’t land the same way. It’s the group text I manage, the logistics I coordinate, the check-ins that feel one-sided. Sometimes it’s being the person who always initiates, always plans, always supports. It’s not that I don’t care—I do—but when too much of my social life is transactional, I’m left drained instead of nourished.

And here’s the kicker: the more social you are, the more you end up doing social labor. Because you’re good at it. Because you’re available. Because people expect it. But even extroverts need connection that gives back.

The Role of Community

One of the things that helps me keep my social cup full is having a regular, reliable source of community. For me, that’s a Unitarian Universalist congregation. It’s not magic, and it’s not instant friendship—but it’s a space where I know I’ll regularly interact with people, and I know there’s a baseline of shared values around compassion, inclusion, and justice.

The connections I make there are rooted in showing up. You get what you give. If I attend service, go to events, participate in activities—I’ll naturally end up talking to people, building familiarity, and sometimes forming real friendships. If I don’t engage, I won’t. It’s pretty straightforward.

But the consistency matters. It means I don’t have to constantly seek out or invent ways to socialize. I can just be part of something. And for someone who thrives on connection, that kind of steady, values-aligned social environment makes a difference.

A Word to My Fellow Extroverts

If you’re someone who thrives on connection but still ends up feeling depleted, it might be worth taking a closer look at the kind of social time you’re having. Are your interactions actually feeding you—or are they mostly about coordinating, supporting, and managing?

Being deeply social doesn’t mean you have unlimited energy for people. Even extroverts hit a wall when too much of their time is spent in transactional roles. The solution isn’t necessarily more socializing—it’s more intentional connection. The kind where you don’t have to be the organizer or the emotional hub. The kind where you get to just be a person among people.

At some point, you have to ask: is this interaction helping me feel more alive, or is it just another task I’m checking off? That one question can change the way you spend your time—and who you spend it with.