I don't know if I've ever told anyone this *wink*, but I'm an introvert. As a child I was graciously watched over as the "shy one". As I got older, though, I realized being a shy kid is one thing. But being shy as an adolescent? No, I wasn't shy--I was a snob. That's when I first learned how it felt to be hated. After two very painful years, I learned to be more pleasing. Even though I felt like a complete idiot doing it, I made conversation. I developed the art of small talk. (Blek. Small talk.) I smiled. I made eye contact. I said Hi to everyone I passed. All I wanted to do was watch the ground as I walked silently to class, but I learned that had terrible consequences. Thankfully I had good friends--a good group of friends. An introvert's dream is a group of faithful, compassionate friends who will let you just be; to hang around the edge, sometimes jumping in the middle, sometimes disappearing for weeks.
My darling husband is about as extroverted as I am introverted. So that's like 150% on both ends of the spectrum. I had already spent all of high school learning how to voluntarily socialize, but bringing this man into my life--for the rest of my life? I can say with near certainty that if he were not on my side, you may never see or hear from me. Like, ever. (I secretly dream of living as a hermit.) He has taught me a lot. He's pushed me, too. These have been loving shoves in the right direction, but I will not tell you that I have not often wanted to scream, Stop pushing! I have restrained from screaming too terribly much, and so I have a whole arsenal of social graces thanks to him. But the weird thing is: no matter how hard I try, sometimes I'm still embarrassingly awkward. Sometimes I just can't talk. Sometimes we'll go to a social event, and I'll get all claustrophobic and panicky inside. I'll feel like everyone sees me and all they see is a bumbling idiot. I want to hide. I used to feel like that all the time.
Then I stumbled across this blog, and this guest writer was talking about how she had to physically force herself out of her house just to expose her extroverted daughter to people. And it was exhausting. Or that she always felt stupid because she couldn't think on her feet. She could mull over a conversation for hours after the fact and think of all the socially acceptable things she should have said but couldn't think of at the time.
What?!
Yes! That's exactly how I felt. I frantically scoured the page and found the blogger was an introvert and had written a book, not just about introversion but about being an Introvert in the Church. I bought it immediately and commenced reading. And I have annoyingly preached this Introvert Gospel to my closest friends--especially the extroverted ones.
So I have begun a new phase of my inner journey. The old phase was all about self-evaluation and critiquing. I dedicated everything to becoming more like an extrovert, and it was not all for lost. I learned to use some very useful muscles, so to speak. But the muscles that allow me to walk, to breathe? Those were a bit neglected--only tended to should a problem arise. Basically I often felt I was falling flat on my face or gasping for air. But I just thought that was my lot in life. I labeled myself as over-sensitive and high-maintenance.
This new phase though, is about self-respect. The aforementioned book, which EVERYone should read, has shed so much light on the subject.
First of all, God knit me together in my mother's womb, and I'm pretty sure He didn't accidentally create an introvert where He wanted an extrovert. He actually did want an extrovert where I am; his name is Brent.
Second, our culture is simply not in favor of introversion. Rather, it strongly favors a charismatic, vivacious persona, fun-loving, and full of energy. Anything not that is suspicious. Recognizing that is half the battle for me. The other half is saying, Okay, so I don't agree. I understand the pendulum of popular opinion swings this way and that throughout history. I would not agree if popular opinion swung in favor of introverts either. I like the middle where no one is quite comfortable with One way, and so we're all just trying to live our lives the best we can. That's so very introverted of me.
Third, there are actual benefits to being an introvert. I'm quickly learning to love the fact that I'm this way. We are amazing listeners and very faithful friends. We are introspective beyond belief. If we're having a problem, we can spend hours inside our own heads figuring it out with pretty successful results. Our brains are quite sharp, because we are always thinking. Always. Because we spend so much time in careful thought, we are incredibly empathetic and understanding. It's ironic that we would seem snobbish, because we are actually very sensitive to the feelings of others.
Finally, I have limits. My limitations are not my faults--those are something else entirely. My limits are meant to be respected. This is where my extroverted husband is getting the push back. Lessons one through three were easy for both of us to accept. But this final one is the kicker, because it actually affects how we do things, and what we do. For instance, if we've gone through a stint of chaos and socializing--like recently, we both have to be compassionate and understanding when it takes me weeks of doing nothing to recuperate--like now. I am hard on myself, but I'm learning to respect my own needs. Instead of forcing myself to go to such and such an outing when I do NOT have the energy for it, I'll do one of two things: 1) I'll decline, or 2) I'll tell Brent that if he leaves me alone to fend for myself I will exact my revenge on him while he sleeps at night! No, seriously. We're on the same team, and he is very understanding when I need him to carry me because I just can't walk on my own. More importantly, we work together, proactively to make sure I don't reach that point if I don't have to. I need alone time; I need to write and reflect; I have a word quota each day that I do not aim to meet, if you get my drift. So we pay attention to the little things everyday and it makes the Big Days much easier to navigate.
As usual, I'm here writing and reflecting, because I keep wondering why I'm so tired or why I just want to crawl in bed for a week. This morning I almost called Brent to tell him I was depressed again, but all this stuff we're learning about who I am......I'm trying to remember to cut myself some slack.
