One of the more common searches (other than “why have children” and, weirdly, “imagini Bratz” – only Italian Bratz image searches come to my page, but they do, several times a week ) involves some variation on “introvert.”
I think there is a post somewhere out there or two about being an introvert, explaining what that means and so on.
The most frequent search involves introvert moms and homeschooling. God bless them. A few weeks ago, someone searched for “introvert and family vacation” and I just wanted to reach out and give that person a hug. Or, rather, wave and shut the door so he or she could have some peace.
To be an introvert can mean any variety of solitude-seeking qualities, but in current pop-psychology (and perhaps real psychology) terms, it has most of all to do with your source of mental and emotional energy. An extrovert’s energy comes from being around and interacting with others. An introvert gets recharged by being alone. I put it this way, at least for myself: if I’m around other people all day, with no chance for solitude – even a few minutes – I don’t feel fully alive, fully myself. I don’t run from others, and I enjoy interaction with others, but it’s draining, and at the end of a day like that I can be left feeling almost as if I’m floating above myself, and I ache to touch the ground again. It’s part of the reason I’m a night owl, especially when the kids are out of school.
I’ve related before how understanding introversion and extroversion helped my parenting – when I realized that my oldest son who JUST WOULD NOT LEAVE ANYONE ALONE EVER is an extrovert, and doesn’t (at least at that stage, didn’t) feel alive unless he was interacting with someone, which at the time meant not being able to walk through the grocery store with his siblings without constant talking, teasing, poking – whatever it took.
Most of us are probably a little of both. I’m a very, very strong introvert – and the reason I’m writing this post is because I thought of an example today to explain how strong.
When I write, I really have to be alone, which means without a lurking fear of distraction. That is to say, I can write better in the coffee shop at Barnes and Noble surrounded by 20 people than I can at home surrounded by 4. Why? Because I know, with certainty, that those 20 other customers at B & N or the Urban Standard or Trattoria Centrale aren’t going to hit me up for a snack, a band-aid nor are they going to start fighting over Legos. That suspicion, that waiting for the next explosion at home, keeps me on edge, prevents me from fully concentrating.
This also means – and this is the part that the extroverts are going to decide is really insane – is this: say I’m in the house and everyone is occupied. Everyone’s quiet. Let’s say that the little boys aren’t even around – they’re at school – and it’s just me and the other two, and the other two are in their rooms. No one’s talking to me, there’s no music, maybe just some laughter or a bathroom door closing every once in a while.
If both of them leave – I feel different. If I’ve got work I need to be focusing on, I feel relieved.
Now! I can finally concentrate.
Yeah, I know. Crazy. It’s just the way it is.
Now, if you don’t mind…