Back to Turks and Caicos. I’ll never know for sure, but I can’t help wondering if that snorkeling trip could have been one of those “delight in hindsight” moments. Reflecting on the experience afterward led me to revise my essentialism guidepost: “If it’s not a definite yes for anyone in my family, it’s a definite no.” This still weeds out loads of opportunities not worth our attention, but with kids in the house, we’re guaranteed plenty of worthy yeses to tug us out of our comfort. Of course, we don’t have to be martyrs, following the family’s every whim. We just need to take brave steps when and where God leads. Let’s dare to say yes and wait for the joy, even if we wait a while. It will come.
A (HUSHED) SHOUT-OUT TO THE HIGHLY SENSITIVE
Needing one (or sometimes two) days to recover after a crowded, loud event. Having sore muscles at the end of a hard day. Empathizing with a sad news headline so keenly that I struggled to function. Lacking the energy some of my friends seemed to have. And feeling less than, thanks to all of the above. These have been constants for most of my life, yet I didn’t understand them, even in light of my introversion, until a few words I stumbled upon online left me wide-eyed amazed.
I can’t remember how it happened, but several years ago another blogger pointed me to the website of Dr. Elaine Aron, a psychologist who had identified a new personality trait she called “high sensitivity.” According to Dr. Aron, “highly sensitive people have an uncommonly sensitive nervous system. It means you are aware of subtleties in your surroundings. It also means you are more easily overwhelmed when you have been out in a highly stimulating environment for too long, bombarded by sights and sounds until you are exhausted.” What? Me, me, me! I also discovered that I share this trait with 15–20 percent of the entire population, that it appears more often in introverts but can appear in extroverts, and that biologists have even recognized it in over a hundred species.5
If, like me, you’re both an introverted and a highly sensitive mama, doesn’t the awareness bring a deep “aha” to your soul? Finally, so much makes sense. How that experience you’d looked forward to ended up draining you. How you don’t always enjoy events or activities the way you imagined you would. How sometimes you sense your brain moving and processing differently than the norm. And how you pick up, without even trying, facial expressions and body language in a room, feeling like you need to carry the emotions of others and prevent conflict.
Recently Steve and I sat down to plan the itinerary for an upcoming family trip to England, Scotland, and Ireland. As we looked at the calendar and schedule, I felt a familiar sense of overwhelm threatening to grow. Each day contained so much “fun” potential (and I am beyond grateful for the chance to travel), yet my mind could also foresee the impact of jet lag, the reality of overstimulation, and the challenge of staying in a variety of locations and cities.
Remembering the lesson gleaned from our Caribbean trip, however, I said an enthusiastic “yes!” to the outings most important to us—knowing I’ll look back on them fondly—and dared to plan with courage, not anxiety. As we talked more, though, we recognized that at times it might not be wise for me to join in every single activity. We’d say things like, “Maybe you could take the kids into the city while I stay behind for quiet,” or “Since we’ll be recovering from jet lag here, let’s give ourselves an extra day before heading to York.” Later Steve remarked, “Years ago, planning like this would have frustrated me. I would have thought you were just being dramatic. But now I understand that this is a legitimate need you have on a physical, emotional, and mental level. That’s one of the benefits of learning about personality—being able to know each other in a deeper way, then using that knowledge to love one another better.”
Another of Dr. Aron’s stories helped me accept my love / hate relationship with travel. In her well-known book, The Highly Sensitive Person, she describes a trip she took to England before fully understanding her own sensitivity. There to promote a novel she’d written, the journey represented the fulfillment of a dream she’d had for years. “Of course, I got sick and hardly enjoyed a minute of the trip,” she writes. But when viewed through the lens of her high sensitivity, she later realized that the entire experience had simply been too exciting. And while this goes for travel, it also goes for any out-of-the-ordinary event as an HSP. In Dr. Aron’s words, “HSPs just don’t do change well, even good changes.”6
So what exactly is a highly sensitive mama to do? Anne Bogel, blogger at Modern Mrs. Darcy and author of the personality book Reading People, wrote a post on my blog years ago titled, “Self-Care for the Highly Sensitive Parent.” She states that whereas “interacting with people drains introverts; sensory input—sights, smells, sounds, emotional stimulation—drains highly sensitive people.” Her suggestions include trying to begin your morning calmly, embracing routine to cut down on decision making, building quiet into your daily rhythm, controlling clutter to lessen visual overwhelm, and saving extra stimulation like social media until after your workday ends.7 These tips gave me a much-needed lifeline to cling to when I first became aware of this trait in my life.
One last caution, though, which I hope this whole chapter makes clear: You are so much more than your personality. Introversion, high sensitivity, or any other attribute you identify with isn’t some box in which to trap yourself, with a label slapped to the side reading, “Beware: Introvert” or “Fragile: Highly Sensitive Contents.” These terms do not define us or give us identity. These words are merely tools. Through understanding them, we become more fully alive and more fully ourselves than ever before, knowing when to step out and when to retreat, when to open up and when to turn inward. Think of Bilbo Baggins in The Hobbit, desperate to maintain his comfort when Gandalf shows up at the door, yet finally throwing caution aside, shouting, “I’m going on an adventure!”8 I want to be a Bilbo, ready to fling wide the door and leap whenever God knocks.
REFLECTIONS FOR INTROVERTED MOMS
Kneeling in the Dirt, Waiting for the Growth
“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.”
JOHN 15:1–2
In certain seasons, the land lies fallow. Nothing comes up; nothing goes down. Sometimes I love this. The rest. The silence. Sometimes, desperate to produce, I hate it. But my plot is not my own; it belongs to the gardener. He has a unique timetable, a faithful track record. Eventually, one day a tiller arrives, stirs things up. I am unearthed, exposed, inside out.
Clinging to comfort, I grasp for security. Yet Jesus calls, “Come, plant with me. Live a messy and glorious adventure, dirt under your nails.” He pats the soil, invites me to kneel, shows me seeds of all shapes and sizes. How can I be responsible for my crop when I don’t even know what’s going in the ground?
With a tendency to make everything about me, I want to know how it will turn out. I long for guaranteed results and a full harvest. But he says nothing about outcomes, only that he’ll stay. Remain. We crouch side by side, on days when the sun warms us and days when rains threaten to wash us away.
Finally I glimpse the first strand of life, pushing through dark earth. At the right time another joins it. And another. Then a whole field of green! I celebrate—until I see weeds thriving, too. It isn’t my job to prune, though. Only to stay planted. I watch as he goes lower, pulling out what doesn’t belong, what threatens to steal growth.
When the harvest arrives, I’m shocked. Vivid colors, abundant life everywhere! A yield so bountiful it nourishes my self, my family, and others as well. He has planted the perfect crop that suited my soil, and every once in a while, a surprise. Only a loving, master gardener could see beyond the mess of dirt, the potential below the surface.
As I turn to express my thanks, I glimpse him up ahead. He’s extending another invitation. And this time? I see my children by his side: “Come, plant with me . . .”
Reflections
from Introverted Moms
WHEN DO YOU FIND IT NECESSARY AND BENEFICIAL TO NUDGE YOURSELF TO “EXTROVERT” MORE AS AN INTROVERTED MOM? WHAT DOES THAT LOOK LIKE FOR YOU: BEFORE, DURING, AND AFTERWARD?
Church involvement and certain social justice issues are high-priority for me. I want my kids to see that these things are worthy of self-sacrifice, so I model that and include them in any appropriate way I can—engaging with homeless folks we meet, showing hospitality to people we aren’t close with, participating in events that celebrate different cultures. I can usually give myself a pep talk that keeps my nerves and stress in check beforehand, and while engaged I’m just “in the moment,” but I definitely crash afterward, let the household tasks slide for a while, and put in a movie for the kids or send them for extra outside time. I think it’s good for them to see how I recharge when I’m depleted, too.
DEBRA, OREGON
I force myself to attend our local homeschool group. We are required, as parents, to participate as well. The first year I taught. The last two years I have done things like collecting trash and such. I also found an empty classroom where I could hide if necessary. I am exhausted by the time we get home, but thankfully my husband has determined that evening is “Mom’s Night Off.” Because I am organized, I am often commissioned for my gifting. I have learned to pick and choose, and to do it on my terms. That came after years of burnout, depression, and deteriorating health until I went to a workshop of HSPs and read the book Boundaries.
BECKY, OHIO
I’m married to an extrovert, and my oldest child is also an extrovert. It’s important that all of our needs are met within the family, so if my alone time need has been met, I feel I have greater capacity to engage in things that are life-giving to my extroverted loved ones. Generally speaking for me, it’s getting out the door that’s my biggest hurdle. Most of the time, once I’m out, I’m having a good time and am glad we went. On the flip side of this though, my spouse is in tune with my “introvertedness.” He knows I have a three- to four-hour timeframe before I start to mentally and emotionally check out of whatever we are doing and long to be back home in my own space.
ANNA, SOUTHEAST ASIA
I joined a group of moms to form a book club / Bible study. We meet once a week to talk about a book, talk about our struggles, and pray for one another. It’s my favorite way to extrovert ever! I’m always excited to go, which is virtually unheard of for me. While I am there, I enjoy deep and meaningful connection. We often stay the entire afternoon. Afterward I am often exhausted and need to just lie down and process all the goodness in solitude.
HEATHER, ALABAMA
I am more at peace, relaxed, and happy staying at home, but sometimes I need to become extroverted to explore and learn from other people. Thank God there are people who accept me for who I am.
ANALIZA, PHILIPPINES
PART 3
a better guide
We have all a better guide in ourselves, if we would attend to it, than any other person can be.
JANE AUSTEN, MANSFIELD PARK
CHAPTER 7
always good company
ON GOOD BOOKS AND GOOD FRIENDS
“Books are always good company if you have the right sort. Let me pick out some for you.” And Mrs. Jo made a bee-line to the well-laden shelves, which were the joy of her heart and the comfort of her life.
LOUISA MAY ALCOTT, JO’S BOYS
I need HELP,” I sobbed into the phone.
“You mean psychological help or just physical help?” Rebecca asked.
I meant physical help, but I could understand why she was confused. And I probably could have used a bit of both. As a fellow introverted mother, you know it must have been bad if I willingly picked up a telephone and ugly cried into it. Yeah, it was that bad.
Steve had been away for several days, leaving me on full-time duty with my five-, four-, and three-year-olds—one child working through attachment issues, all three with preschool attention spans and emotional capacities. Each morning I rose bravely, speaking out Bible verses and every affirmation I could muster. Each night I crawled under the covers, fatigue in my bones, trying to banish the thought that another rinse-and-repeat day would soon approach.
Usually I have to gear up to expose my vulnerabilities, even with a trusted friend. But on the day in question, I reached a sinking moment that busted through all my reserve. In desperation I called Rebecca and uttered my crazed plea for help. I don’t even know what I hoped for. She had two littles of her own, and though I dreamed of a miracle, I knew she couldn’t come to my rescue.
“Let me call you back in just a minute,” she said.
I hung up and wiped the snot off my face.
When the phone rang, I answered only to hear unexpected mercy delivered via Rebecca’s voice on the line: “I’m coming over to spend the day,” she said. “Jeff will stay here with our kids.”
More than ten years later, the memory still brings tears to my eyes. You know how Christians are supposed to be Jesus’s hands in the world? In that moment, I felt the Savior wrapping his arms around me.
As soon as Rebecca stepped through the front door, my load lightened. A new person in the house distracted the kids, and with a friend by my side I could laugh at their silliness instead of crying. We completed the same activities I would have done if I had been alone: made the meals, went to the library—emerging with a tower of picture books, played outside, and even drove through Starbucks for two grande Frappucinos. (This was before the kids had ever tasted one, so we actually got away with that!) Later, while the children watched a video, we chatted about the highs and lows of parenting. I gushed out my gratitude again and again.
I remember thinking that the help I received would not have come, though, if I hadn’t been willing to invite someone into my weakness. I had no way of knowing, however, that God planned to use that day in Rebecca’s life as well.
BONDED THROUGH BOOKS: THE INTROVERTED MOM’S SHORTCUT TO FRIENDSHIP
Several years passed. Rebecca’s family moved to another state; we moved to a different city. Then right before my book Give Your Child the World: Raising Globally Minded Kids One Book at a Time released, I got a note from her that floored me:
The day you asked if I could come help you was such a gift. We took your kids to the library. I had never connected with reading as a child and had never even thought of going to a library with my children. Being there with you opened up a new world. I don’t mean to be dramatic, but it’s a gift I would not have received if you hadn’t been vulnerable. My oldest will read in bed for hours, and his reading scores are off the charts; it’s a natural love and gifting that would not have been fostered at home if his mom’s friend had not shown her the joy of reading with children. I began to love it, too. The Chronicles of Narnia are by far my favorite, but there have been so many good ones. Thank you for inviting me into your difficult day.
To know that God used my brokenness to bring two of my favorite things—friends and books—together takes my breath away. He really does redeem our hard places, and every once in a while, we get a glimpse of the redemption process in real time. As introverted women, we often find ourselves drawn to deep ideas and thoughts, which means we often find ourselves drawn to books. Can you remember the first title you ever got sucked into, either as a child or an adult? Maybe something a teacher read aloud, maybe a book you stumbled upon in a library, maybe one a friend recommended?
My love of reading stemmed from my love of television. Yes, really! A child of the ’80s through and through, I might never have become a lifelong reader if it wasn’t for PBS shows like Reading Rainbow. I also discovered many of the classics through movies I watched with my introverted dad. When I found out some of them came from books, I wanted to read them in order to compare the two versions. Many of my favorites included characters with vivid imaginations who also felt a little out of place in their worlds, like Dorothy in Oz and Charlie in his chocolate factory. My sixth and seventh grade year
s were two of my happiest, mainly because I had friends who shared a mutual love for the same authors.
The best books connect us with others. Great friends can lead us to great books, and great books can lead us to great friends. It’s the perfect introverted mom cycle, a secret technique to locating kindred spirits. Why does this work? Well, often, as introverts we desire meaningful discussion. Superficial conversation just doesn’t cut it. Some of my closest friendships with other introverts developed through chats about books. Like my friendship with Carrie, whom I first met at church. As we shook hands, she mentioned that she taught English at a nearby school, and my fellow book-lover alarm began to mentally sound! Decades later, we’ve bonded over many titles and regularly send messages across the miles to share and discuss what we’re reading.
Kelly and I met when I posted in an online forum, searching for someone locally who followed a similar educational philosophy. We brought our kids and met at a park, where we talked about the books that had inspired our homeschooling journeys while the children played. We’ve been meeting up regularly for years now.
Jill and I found each other through a group of individuals interested in adoption. One night when the group was unexpectedly canceled, we went to a coffee shop to hang out, and the talk led to—you guessed it—books. As we swapped parenting book recommendations, I asked if she read much fiction. When she said no, I let her borrow a copy of one of my faves, Jane Eyre. It’s always a little risky to share a title you adore with a new friend, so a few weeks later I nervously asked what she thought.
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