Simply Me: dress

On Monday it was 68 degrees! Sun was shining, breeze blowing, the air was warm. And I was inside surrounded by trash bags and boxes realizing this is not how I want to spend my life. I was so overwhelmed and exhausted and confused, no end in sight, I just stood there and cried. I cried from being weary but I was also crying because of who I had become. The mother who says no, we aren't going anywhere or playing today, there is too much work to do. When did I become this person. How many days of my life were wasted on the futility of having an orderly home. So I made a decision. I made a two new rules for myself. Since I have set up so many rules for myself this year, a lot of perfectionistic goals you would think ANOTHER rule might be a bad idea. The first new rule is don't live my life by anymore rules and rule #2 is start to enjoy my life. Whatever that takes. Whatever I have to let go of to do that. If eating a lot of sugar makes me feel bad, then I am not enjoying life, so don't eat it....but not because it is a rule. Where did that girl go, the one I used to be? The spontaneous fun girl who would jump in the car and drive to Ocean City just for the day. Now I am so scared of everything I won't even leave my town. I don't like myself anymore. I see my kids responding to life the way I do, washing the grapes, worrying about the grapes. I am angry all the time, overwhelmed, sad, anxious, bad tempered. I don't know how to have fun anymore. I decided that was going to change. So I decided to let the house go, let it rot, let it burn, didn't really care. I threw down the broom and told the kids to get in the car, we are going to Burger King. It was great! We had so much fun. Everytime I would walk past the paper crowns I wanted so bad to take one and put it on. I couldn't do it. Once upon a time I would not have even hesitated! The idea sounded fun and I knew I needed to do it, but I couldn't get past my self consciousness enough to just do it. When did I get like this? At what point did I stop wearing goofy hats? Then I did it! I grabbed it, put it on, walked through the restaurant, made a lot of people grin and then walked out to the playground and the looks on my boys faces almost made me start crying all over again. Pure delight, twinkling eyes, big smiles. It was priceless. Then Hank said he loved my hat and he loved when I was happy. After lunch they ran off to play and I started talking with the lady next to me. She quizzed me on homeschooling techniques and we discussed learning styles & methods of education. I dazzled her with my philosophies. It was obvious to me she was impressed with my vast wealth of knowledge and wisdom on the subject, I could tell by the way her eyes remained intently on my face, her fixed attention hanging on every word, a look of intense concentration and the slighty amused smile she maintained throughout my soliloquy. After she left, I realized I had been wearing my crown the entire time.

P.S. After we left BK we went to Walmart, hugged Stan the Greeter, bought a couple little action figures the boys had been wanting AND a dress for Yoko. It turns out that actually, sometimes, you CAN buy happiness! Needless to say we have all gotten a LOT of joy out of this, especially when Wolfgang and I were tossing the football and Yoko is playing with us in her dress and I am running after her screaming "Don't run through the woods, you'll tear your dress!" We laughed ourselves silly.

The Atlantic Monthly | March 2003

DO YOU KNOW someone who needs hours alone every day? Who loves quiet conversations about feelings or ideas, and can give a dynamite presentation to a big audience, but seems awkward in groups and maladroit at small talk? Who has to be dragged to parties and then needs the rest of the day to recuperate? Who growls or scowls or grunts or winces when accosted with pleasantries by people who are just trying to be nice?

If so, do you tell this person he is "too serious," or ask if he is okay? Regard him as aloof, arrogant, rude? Redouble your efforts to draw him out?

If you answered yes to these questions, chances are that you have an introvert on your hands—and that you aren't caring for him properly. Science has learned a good deal in recent years about the habits and requirements of introverts. It has even learned, by means of brain scans, that introverts process information differently from other people (I am not making this up). If you are behind the curve on this important matter, be reassured that you are not alone. Introverts may be common, but they are also among the most misunderstood and aggrieved groups in America, possibly the world.

I know. My name is Jonathan, and I am an introvert.

Oh, for years I denied it. After all, I have good social skills. I am not morose or misanthropic. Usually. I am far from shy. I love long conversations that explore intimate thoughts or passionate interests. But at last I have self-identified and come out to my friends and colleagues. In doing so, I have found myself liberated from any number of damaging misconceptions and stereotypes. Now I am here to tell you what you need to know in order to respond sensitively and supportively to your own introverted family members, friends, and colleagues. Remember, someone you know, respect, and interact with every day is an introvert, and you are probably driving this person nuts. It pays to learn the warning signs.

What is introversion? In its modern sense, the concept goes back to the 1920s and the psychologist Carl Jung. Today it is a mainstay of personality tests, including the widely used Myers-Briggs Type Indicator. Introverts are not necessarily shy. Shy people are anxious or frightened or self-excoriating in social settings; introverts generally are not. Introverts are also not misanthropic, though some of us do go along with Sartre as far as to say "Hell is other people at breakfast." Rather, introverts are people who find other people tiring.

Extroverts are energized by people, and wilt or fade when alone. They often seem bored by themselves, in both senses of the expression. Leave an extrovert alone for two minutes and he will reach for his cell phone. In contrast, after an hour or two of being socially "on," we introverts need to turn off and recharge. My own formula is roughly two hours alone for every hour of socializing. This isn't antisocial. It isn't a sign of depression. It does not call for medication. For introverts, to be alone with our thoughts is as restorative as sleeping, as nourishing as eating. Our motto: "I'm okay, you're okay—in small doses."

How many people are introverts? I performed exhaustive research on this question, in the form of a quick Google search. The answer: About 25 percent. Or: Just under half. Or—my favorite—"a minority in the regular population but a majority in the gifted population."

Are introverts misunderstood? Wildly. That, it appears, is our lot in life. "It is very difficult for an extrovert to understand an introvert," write the education experts Jill D. Burruss and Lisa Kaenzig. (They are also the source of the quotation in the previous paragraph.) Extroverts are easy for introverts to understand, because extroverts spend so much of their time working out who they are in voluble, and frequently inescapable, interaction with other people. They are as inscrutable as puppy dogs. But the street does not run both ways. Extroverts have little or no grasp of introversion. They assume that company, especially their own, is always welcome. They cannot imagine why someone would need to be alone; indeed, they often take umbrage at the suggestion. As often as I have tried to explain the matter to extroverts, I have never sensed that any of them really understood. They listen for a moment and then go back to barking and yipping.

Are introverts oppressed? I would have to say so. For one thing, extroverts are overrepresented in politics, a profession in which only the garrulous are really comfortable. Look at George W. Bush. Look at Bill Clinton. They seem to come fully to life only around other people. To think of the few introverts who did rise to the top in politics—Calvin Coolidge, Richard Nixon—is merely to drive home the point. With the possible exception of Ronald Reagan, whose fabled aloofness and privateness were probably signs of a deep introverted streak (many actors, I've read, are introverts, and many introverts, when socializing, feel like actors), introverts are not considered "naturals" in politics.

Extroverts therefore dominate public life. This is a pity. If we introverts ran the world, it would no doubt be a calmer, saner, more peaceful sort of place. As Coolidge is supposed to have said, "Don't you know that four fifths of all our troubles in this life would disappear if we would just sit down and keep still?" (He is also supposed to have said, "If you don't say anything, you won't be called on to repeat it." The only thing a true introvert dislikes more than talking about himself is repeating himself.)

With their endless appetite for talk and attention, extroverts also dominate social life, so they tend to set expectations. In our extrovertist society, being outgoing is considered normal and therefore desirable, a mark of happiness, confidence, leadership. Extroverts are seen as bighearted, vibrant, warm, empathic. "People person" is a compliment. Introverts are described with words like "guarded," "loner," "reserved," "taciturn," "self-contained," "private"—narrow, ungenerous words, words that suggest emotional parsimony and smallness of personality. Female introverts, I suspect, must suffer especially. In certain circles, particularly in the Midwest, a man can still sometimes get away with being what they used to call a strong and silent type; introverted women, lacking that alternative, are even more likely than men to be perceived as timid, withdrawn, haughty.

Are introverts arrogant? Hardly. I suppose this common misconception has to do with our being more intelligent, more reflective, more independent, more level-headed, more refined, and more sensitive than extroverts. Also, it is probably due to our lack of small talk, a lack that extroverts often mistake for disdain. We tend to think before talking, whereas extroverts tend to think by talking, which is why their meetings never last less than six hours. "Introverts," writes a perceptive fellow named Thomas P. Crouser, in an online review of a recent book called Why Should Extroverts Make All the Money? (I'm not making that up, either), "are driven to distraction by the semi-internal dialogue extroverts tend to conduct. Introverts don't outwardly complain, instead roll their eyes and silently curse the darkness." Just so.

The worst of it is that extroverts have no idea of the torment they put us through. Sometimes, as we gasp for air amid the fog of their 98-percent-content-free talk, we wonder if extroverts even bother to listen to themselves. Still, we endure stoically, because the etiquette books—written, no doubt, by extroverts—regard declining to banter as rude and gaps in conversation as awkward. We can only dream that someday, when our condition is more widely understood, when perhaps an Introverts' Rights movement has blossomed and borne fruit, it will not be impolite to say "I'm an introvert. You are a wonderful person and I like you. But now please shush."

How can I let the introvert in my life know that I support him and respect his choice? First, recognize that it's not a choice. It's not a lifestyle. It's an orientation.

Second, when you see an introvert lost in thought, don't say "What's the matter?" or "Are you all right?"

Third, don't say anything else, either.

Simply Me

Wednesday, March 5, 2008

The Burger Queen Buys Some Happiness

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