It's Not Bad - It's Just Different

I think I'm finally coming to realize that, contrary to popular opinion, I am NOT an extrovert. Matter of fact, the older I get, the more I realize just how introverted I really am. I crave alone time. No, I mean I seriously crave it. Maybe that's one of the reasons I enjoyed my freight job as a single gal so much. I could go off the floor, disappear into my "cave", and work at my own pace - fast or slow, and play my own music - or be completely silent, drink tea all by myself, hum, ponder, twirl, sit, tip my head to one side to look at something invisible from a new angle... and not have to worry about anyone seeing me, or talking to me, or asking me questions, or... being in my space.

Don't get me wrong. I love my family and friends. I even love spending time with them. But I like to spend time with them when and how (and for how long) that I want to see them. Perhaps that makes me selfish to some degree. But I am increasingly finding that when I spend too much time around people (especially people that like to talk a lot) I grow anxious, depressed, angry, uptight, tense, sad, and few dozen other negative things.

I used to think something was wrong with me when we would go to celebrate Christmas or Thanksgiving with my dad's family. It felt like there were people, people, people everywhere. Constant chatter. Banging and crashing from the kitchen. Loud voices. Laughter. Crying from kids. Just - noise. Too much of it. And I would go on overload, and want to go hide in a little corner where no one would exclaim over how big I had grown, or ask me questions about what I wanted to be when I grew up, or rope me into washing dishes in the middle of the frenzy of the kitchen, of babysit all the noisy little cousins. It wasn't that I disliked the extended family. (Okay, so I maybe didn't like ALL of them.) But I found that if I could disappear for a while when I started feeling that horrid overwhelmed thing coming on, that I could come back a half hour later ready to chat and laugh and be part of things again. At least until the next wave of overload hit.

As the years went by, I tried to force myself to be more outgoing, to pretend I loved being around crowds of people, loved the hustle and bustle of big cities (after all, my mom did, so that must mean I should too). I forced myself to learn how to go introduce myself to random strangers, to wear a smile and act interested - even when I wasn't. But the minute I could get away from the noise and crowd, I would go hide in my bedroom all by myself. And read a book. Or just sit. And think.

I'm sure there are some things about being introvert that indicate selfishness. And maybe I need to work on that. But I'm also finding that being a stepmom can be horridly challenging for an introvert. Sometimes I don't WANT to talk to PC and LM. Sometimes I don't feel like being with them. Or playing. Or interacting. Or reading to them. Or... well... much of anything. Sometimes I just want to go hide.

I'm attempting to find ways to bring my stress levels down when the introvert thing rears its head. I've discovered that disappearing to my bedroom for twenty or thirty minutes is hugely helpful on some days. But I can't do that every day. I've discovered that if I can distract the boys with an audio theater episode or book on CD, that my coping is helped. Because even if there is noise from the story (even chaotic noise) it is still better than having to force myself to interact with them, engage in a conversation I don't want to be having, keep a smile on my face when I'm gritting my teeth, or find myself answering them impatiently. A couple of friends recommended that I institute a "quiet hour" in the afternoon, where no one is allowed to talk. But I don't know if that would be good or bad at this point. With all the efforts I've made to teach them that it's okay to talk to adults, I'm a bit afraid that if I institute a "quiet hour" that I'll be causing a relapse that will undo all the work I've done so far.

That whole "children should be seen and not heard" thing is just plain stupid. There is a time to be quiet, yes, but there is also a time to interact. Unfortunately, the adults they were primarily with in the past taught them to be silent - all the time. And as a consequence, they were incapable of holding a normal conversation when I "acquired" them. They seemed to think that no one wanted to hear what they had to say, no one wanted to hear their thoughts or opinions or questions. That adults just wanted to be left alone and not have any interaction with children. So their only real conversations were with each other. Or their dad. But mostly with each other. In near whispers. All day long. Yeah, like I said. It was stupid. But it's what they had been taught. I'm very grateful for a few individuals in my life who have loved my boys exactly where they were at, who didn't question my boys mental faculties just because they were a bit slow with social settings and normal conversations, and who have spent the last year or so trying to draw them out and engage them in conversation. There are several people that I wish I could name right now. People who have made a difference for my boys. Because that's not something that PC and I could change by ourselves. There is an elderly man at church, who wasn't put off by BB's staring and silence when he was asked a question - and who kept trying - until BB is now finally chatting and smiling with him. There is an elderly woman who passes candy to them during church, with a wink and a smile, and doesn't demand a thank-you - and has been celebrating with us at every single small victory along the way. They adore her. There's the next door neighbor (a retired school teacher) who continues to chat and give books and hire LM for small jobs. There are several good friends of mine that have cheerfully tolerated "odd" behavior while my boys were (okay, ARE) learning to hold normal conversations, and interact in social settings. Have I mentioned I love these people? I love them a lot. I love that they love my boys. I love that they are willing to come into the "mess" and help us through it. Help us grow. And yet love us and accept us all - right where we are in the moment. 

I didn't mean to explain quite that much tonight. But all of that is tied up in my discoveries about my own tendencies to be introverted. And in all of my juggling between my own needs and the boys' needs.

Okay, I'm admitting right now - I have NO idea what I'm doing. I don't know how to handle these things. I don't know how to meet the boys needs, and yet not ignore my own. 

I need wisdom. And I do know Who gives that. So I'll just keep praying about it all.