Fame didn’t come naturally to Louisa, who struggled with becoming a public figure. On one hand, she loved that her family benefited from her writing efforts, and she adored the readers who made that happen. On the other, she felt the need to escape the attention at times. Perhaps this is why, when adoring fans would come knocking on her door, she sometimes answered with a foreign accent, pretending to be the maid.
I get very little time to write or think; for my working days have begun, and when (teaching) school is over Anna wants me; so I have no quiet. I think a little solitude every day is good for me. In the quiet I see my faults, and try to mend them; but, deary me, I don’t get on at all.
AUGUST 1850 (AGE 17)
Personality gurus think that Louisa May Alcott may fit into the Myers-Briggs personality type indicator as an ISFJ, the introverted personality type referred to as the Protector, “ready to defend loved ones” at any time.3 This seems likely, given that Louisa’s motivation for her work stemmed not only from a desire to express her creativity and talent, but also from her fierce commitment to family and the responsibility she felt to help reverse their financial situation.
Toward the end of Little Women, one grown sister remarks to another, “I’m not afraid of storms, for I’m learning how to sail my ship.”4 For an introvert, it doesn’t take much effort to sail when the sun is out, the wind still, the water smooth. But as moms, we know that family life regularly rocks our boats. Occasionally we hit our stride and miraculously, all our family members seem to be in a steady place. We exhale into the calm. An hour (or a minute) later, chaos flares once more and we’re reminded that when it comes to children, regular storms go with the territory.
I can imagine an easier life, but with love, health, and work I can be happy; for these three help one to do, to be, and to endure all things.
FEBRUARY 28, 1868 (AGE 35)
Yet the very storms we fight against can be a blessing if we let their winds steer us in a new direction. I remember one period when the limited television time I allow my kids each day turned into a problem, with arguments between them all but ruining it. I counted on this quiet and found its interruption deeply discouraging. In thinking through the situation, however, I realized that one of my children needed more time alone. We worked out a system wherein he could play outside while his siblings watched their video, then they would switch and he’d watch the same video while his siblings played outside. Voila! Suddenly I ended up with double the amount of time to myself. A small thing, yes, but a huge mothering win, all because I let myself drift with the storm instead of pushing against it.
INTROVERTED MOM TAKEAWAYS FROM THE ALCOTTS’ FAMILY LIFE
Find support.
I love the way the Alcott family, through ups, downs, and imperfections, supported one another’s efforts. It’s an atmosphere I long to create in our home. We’re also fortunate these days that we can look for the support we need online. I have met true friends in online spaces: by connecting via social media (in my case homeschooling-related groups) and by following the blogs of like-minded women. Find a few people who “get” you and understand your personality; luckily, as an introvert, you only need a few!
Let your kids be themselves.
I wonder if the four Alcott girls, each one an artist in her own way, cultivated their talents so well because of their father’s progressive ideas and their mother’s unconditional love. Even as we teach our children to understand us as introverts, let’s work to accept them for who they are. In our family this has led us to search for activities that fit each child’s gifts and needs, whether horseback riding or nature school, online drawing classes or book discussion groups.
Look for a creative outlet.
Creativity is not exclusive to hobbies like drawing and painting—it includes gardening, cooking, reading for pleasure, journal writing, and more. A creative outlet boosts our mental health and our ability to keep going as introverted mothers. I couldn’t make it through a day without a chapter of fiction and at least a quick note—if not a full brain dump—in my journal.
Show your family what you need.
Mood pillows, anyone? As your children get older, teach them signals for times when you simply must have a break from talking or listening. My go-to phrase is “Mommy’s feeling a little overwhelmed right now and needs quiet.” Another introverted mom told me her signal is to put her face in her hands and pray; her kids have learned this means they need to calm down fast!
Movement and fresh air.
In spite of the behavioral expectations placed on women during her time, Louisa loved to run. She scandalized the neighborhood yet again (Oh, Louisa!) by getting up early to do so outside. Later it was discovered that Louisa had mercury poisoning in her blood from medicine she took during the Civil War. Because of her active lifestyle, she lived much longer than she would have otherwise. Can you fit a tiny bit of guilt-free movement or fresh air into your current routine? During especially busy times, I make it a goal to get outside and take a walk around the yard, even if that is all I can manage.
A Room of Her Own.
Louisa’s light and airy room on the upper level of Orchard House overflows with inspiration: her treasured books, her sister May’s art on the walls, her writing projects. All introverted women need a space, even if just a small corner, to call their own. I adore my antique writing desk in the corner of our bedroom, with its citrus candle and a coaster for a cup of tea always at the ready.
WANT TO LEARN MORE ABOUT LOUISA? CHECK OUT:
•Her most popular / well-known piece: Little Women (originally published in two parts in 1868/69, when she was thirty-six)
•The first full-length novel she had published: Moods (published in 1864, when she was thirty-two)
•Something a little different: A Long Fatal Love Chase (considered “too sensational” to be seen in print during her lifetime, this thriller shot onto The New York Times Best Seller list when it was finally published in 1996)
•Her own candid thoughts: The Journals of Louisa May Alcott, edited by Joel Myerson and Daniel Shealy
REFLECTIONS FOR INTROVERTED MOMS
An Introverted Mother’s Promise
“Mommy, don’t you want me with you?”
a little voice asks the question.
My heart sinks, knowing the answer.
Dear babe of mine, I can’t promise
constant companionship
or around-the-clock playtimes.
I can’t promise that I’ll never shush
or ask you to calm down,
that I won’t cry in complete overwhelm.
But I can promise this, my child:
I will love you with a soft, fierce loyalty.
One that will never desert or give up,
just as He has loved and promised us both.
Great pain brought you into the world,
and when pain invades your world again,
I will go through that with you, too.
My steady faithfulness is yours for life,
like it or not—
and sometimes you won’t.
Because introverted moms hold a secret:
An inner mama bear, ready to fight and defend.
You might not think I have it in me,
but I’ll rile up the instant you’re threatened.
My steadfast prayers will follow you
all the days of my life,
and continue into eternity.
So the answer is yes, my love,
I do want you with me.
Forever and always.
But can Mommy just go to the bathroom alone, please?
Reflections from Introverted Moms
WHAT DOES BEING AN INTROVERT MEAN TO YOU? HOW WOULD YOU DEFINE IT?
For me, being introverted has less to do with being around people and more to do with having enough “space” for myself. When my daily life is calm and the rhythm is quiet, I can fully explore my own ideas and thoughts, which refreshes me and f
eeds my soul. I am then happy to be around others and may even find the time life-giving. But if life around me has been too chaotic, disjointed, or demanding, I struggle to find joy in socializing with other people, and it drains me simply because I feel like I had nothing to give to the interactions in the first place.
BRIANNA, WISCONSIN
I used to see it as something wrong with me, something to be “gotten over” . . . since I know so many extroverts and I always seem to be the different one. But since I accepted it wasn’t a personality flaw and I was made this way for a reason, I started viewing it as having the knowledge to better care for myself.
ANDIE, TURKEY
While times around certain people drain me, being around people with whom I am comfortable and can have deep conversations recharges me. I have found that it’s not the people I am around who drain me but the small talk! A part I love about being introverted is the introspective aspect. I am able to take my introspective approach to life and apply it to my children’s lives. It helps me to be more in tune with their needs.
BECKY, WYOMING
Being introverted means processing internally and alone, where my thoughts aren’t distracted by people or events. Don’t ask me a question and expect an immediate answer. I need to process away from everyone and everything. And when there’s a lot going on and a lot to process, I have to get away from it all to settle my brain.
MELEA, CALIFORNIA
Being an introvert means living a somewhat structured but low-key life. Being in a social setting zaps my energy. I have to mentally prepare just for church on Sundays and Wednesdays. I often need quiet time alone to gather my thoughts and have peace. My children are fairly outgoing, but I hope I can instill in them the need for quiet time and reflection. It’s hard to hear God with so much noise in the background.
KELLEY, FLORIDA
CHAPTER 3
a new day
ON THE FREEDOM THAT COMES FROM ACCEPTANCE
Isn’t it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet?
L. M. MONTGOMERY, ANNE OF GREEN GABLES
We have someone to help with the kids now, so why do I still feel drained and exhausted?”
When Steve and I decided to adopt a four-year-old from India, our beautiful daughter Trishna, we agreed we’d need extra support. After all, taking care of Jonathan and Elijah, both still toddlers, already pushed me to my limits most days. Adding another child to the mix seemed nuts, yet I knew that God has a track record of calling his people to the crazy. Several months after Elijah entered our lives and regained his health, we began to hope for another child. Through our adoption agency we found out about Trishna, and after much prayer, we began the lengthy process. The day we received the phone call, during our first family vacation, saying that the agency had approved us as her parents was one of the happiest moments of my life as a mother. But I knew there was no way I could physically, emotionally, or mentally handle a third child without help. We had three problems, however, when it came to getting that help: no extra money, no family nearby, and I could only imagine one person I’d trust enough to invite into our growing tribe.
“It would have to be someone like Sarah,” I said to Steve. We had met Sarah years earlier when we both worked full-time with the organization Mercy Ships. Kind and gentle, she had been one of the first people to meet each of our boys after they joined our family. But now we lived thousands of miles away in Connecticut. I began to pray we could miraculously find someone with the same heart for children that she had.
Then God surpassed my wildest expectations. Not long after I started praying about this, I received an email from Sarah herself: “I got into grad school in New Haven,” she wrote, “so I’ll be moving there for two years!” Chills came over me as I sensed God’s presence and saw that once again, he had shown up and done something incredible. In faith we asked Sarah to help us around eight hours a week, trusting that if God had provided the right person, he would also provide the money. Somehow he always did.
Soon our family of four became a family of five, and we began trying to parent our tiny brood, including our newest addition, who had never been parented before. Steve stayed home for a while as we adjusted to this new life, and Sarah became an invaluable help, especially when he had to go back to work. We divided her hours between two days of the week. I clung to “Sarah days” like a drowning person to a life preserver, grateful for the extra pair of hands to help with my four-, three-, and two-year-olds. Since their ages created an instant preschool in our home, and since the days could be so long (I didn’t know yet if the years were short; they felt long, too), I did my best to set up a preschool routine for us: story time, music time, outside time, art time, mealtime, and so on.
Remember the movie About a Boy? Hugh Grant’s character, a young man who doesn’t have to work for a living, finds he must divide his day into “units” of fifteen-minute segments so it doesn’t feel overwhelming and interminable. That was life with three energetic preschoolers:
Story Time: 1 unit (on a good day maybe 2!)
Music Time: 1 unit (then it took me 2 units to recover from the kazoo and tambourine usage)
Outside Time: 2 or even 3 units if we walked to the park around the corner—yes!
Art Time: 1 unit (and another unit spent wondering why finger painting was ever invented
Video Time: An episode of Little Einsteins so I could sit down, regroup, or clean, 2 units
Without a flexible plan, the hours, days, weeks, months, and years stretched endlessly ahead. But with God’s assistance—and Sarah’s!—I could cope. Yet I made a critical error, one I might have seen coming if I had understood my personality better. As a result, I soon found myself just as drained as before, despite Sarah’s help.
I used Sarah as my “preschool assistant”—someone to help with arts and crafts, deal with messes, fix meals, or handle two kids while I dealt with a third’s screams. Having another person around definitely helped, but it did not give me what I needed most: elusive, precious time to recharge. After a few months, I figured out I had to be alone to make Sarah’s time truly count. This meant I had to let go of my desire for control. It also required me to be vulnerable and invite someone else into the tough moments in our home. But Sarah could handle it, and once I let her, she did an incredible job.
Suddenly I had a few hours each week to myself. What a concept! Staying at home during those hours didn’t work for me, though, because if I could hear noise downstairs, I couldn’t relax upstairs. I had to leave the house. The next temptation I faced came in the form of my internal drive to accomplish something: run errands, go to the grocery store, somehow earn my time away. Because I spent my days “doing” for my family, however, I needed to spend the majority of these moments just “being.” I needed to head somewhere quiet—the library, Panera, or Starbucks—with a book and journal in hand. Sipping hot tea and eating something I had not cooked rejuvenated me. Now the hours we invested in a sitter truly mattered. I returned home with a little extra energy, making me a better mom when I walked through the door.
We introverted mothers typically learn about ourselves through this process of trial and error. We start out trying to do the things we see other moms doing: the large playgroups, the loud crowds, a life on the go. As we notice what drains and fuels us, we begin to understand the women God created us to be and how we operate best. We grow into ourselves, which translates into more peace for our family. We find a new level of freedom as we come into our own. And yet there’s something that can trip us up, especially in our productivity-driven society. We get self-care confused with self-improvement. The first changes our lives, but the second diminishes our reserves even more.
SELF-CARE VERSUS SELF-IMPROVEMENT
Have you ever returned from a few hours “off” just as weary as when you left the house? I have and still do at times. What makes all the difference is what’s going on in my head while I’m away. Since introverted mothers tend to be i
nternal processors, we have many thoughts to sort through—especially when we finally get the alone time we crave. If I’m not careful, I will spend my valuable self-care minutes in a way that depletes my energy instead of renews it. It goes something like this: I finally have the chance to take a break. On the outside it may look like I’m relaxing, but on the inside my wheels whir and spin, trying to figure something out: Do we need a new schedule for our days? Maybe reading a book would help with a child’s current issue? Should I do a Google search to point me in the right direction?
Fellow introverted mamas, this is not self-care! This is self-improvement, something our culture tells us to constantly strive for: always try to get somewhere other than where you are, to make yourself better. But remember, that’s God’s job. Because God’s grace + our weakness = ENOUGH.
If I’m not intentional about this, I fall back into old patterns. It happened again the other day. After an especially challenging week, I found myself completely worn out. But I refused to take a real break. When I did have time alone, I pressured myself to try and solve the parenting problem we were struggling with. After several days of no progress, I realized my mistake. I wouldn’t be able to find a magic cure to fix this issue. What I needed, instead, was rest so I could keep handling it. The next chance I had, I put my work away, grabbed my jacket, and took a long walk in the autumn sun. When I got back, I watched an episode of a historical British drama, then took a nap. Two hours later, I felt like myself again. The problems that had threatened to overwhelm me earlier had shrunk back to their proper size. Why had I not done this earlier?
The key to refreshing self-care, not to be confused with selfishness or self-help, is acceptance. I have to accept my life, not try to solve it. I have to release my loved ones into God’s hands, trusting he will care for them and get them where he wants them to be. I have to believe he will give me the insights I need at the right time, not by my attempts to force them to materialize, which leads to anxiety. I have to trust, and then I have to rest.
Introverted Mom Page 4