REFLECTIONS FOR INTROVERTED MOMS
They Just Don’t Do That Anymore
He used to wake me, oh so often. He’d had a bad dream, or a cough, or something felt funny inside.
I would grumble, or be patient, depending on the night and how tired I was.
Back to his room and tuck him in.
Rinse and repeat, through many moons.
But he doesn’t do that anymore.
He used to be our pickiest eater. Though we’d always fed all three the same, he turned up his nose more frequently.
I would grumble about this, or be patient, depending on the day and all that had happened up until that point.
Trying not to make it worse, we encouraged him to taste new flavors. We also honored his preferences and didn’t force it.
Now he gobbles down chili, curry, many of his former not-favorites.
He doesn’t do that anymore.
They used to argue every day: shout, bite, whine, hit.
Clamoring for position and power, each in his or her own way.
I would grumble about this, or be patient, depending on the state of my heart and energy level.
These days plenty of disagreements occur, but so do apologies, ones I don’t always have to oversee or manage.
They don’t do that anymore.
The tantrums, oh dear Lord, the tantrums.
“Don’t give in and they’ll soon learn that tantrums don’t work.”
Ha. I never gave in, but that didn’t stop these daily events that pushed me to my limit and beyond. For years.
I would grumble about this, or be patient, depending on how many times we’d been down this road in the past twenty-four hours.
At times I found myself sitting through the screaming, my own tears of helplessness running like rivers.
Too drained to even wipe them away. Convinced I must be doing everything wrong.
But they don’t do that anymore.
Some mamas are reading this after multiple times up in the night. Or you’ve stumbled across these words soon after yet another shouting match. Or maybe the dinner you poured weary energy into met with a resounding lack of applause.
I don’t want to minimize the stage you’re in. Don’t want to tell you, “Enjoy these days, they go by so fast.” I’m not here to patronize you.
Instead let me pour a little encouragement your way:
Go ahead and grumble, or be patient. You don’t have to handle all the issues perfectly.
Go ahead and cry, and wonder if it’s even worth it.
Go ahead and pray, for strength to make it through the next five minutes.
Because one day, often when you least expect it, often when you’ve come to peace with the imperfections and decided to be happy anyway, you’ll wake up, look around in amazement and realize: They just don’t do that anymore.
Reflections from Introverted Moms
HOW HAVE CERTAIN LIFE DECISIONS YOU’VE MADE (TO WORK OUTSIDE THE HOME OR STAY AT HOME, WHERE YOUR KIDS GO TO SCHOOL, AND SO ON) IMPACTED YOU AS AN INTROVERT?
This past year I took a part-time job at a library, which left my introverted homeschooled son (age fourteen) by himself a good portion of the day. Although it was a positive experience in that he was forced to work independently and learned that he can do hard things, I found that working with the public for even that small amount of time drained me. And I hated not being involved with his learning because we have fun together! An opportunity arose for me to work full-time from home as a legal assistant (my background), and I jumped at the chance. All of a sudden my energy levels are back through the roof and I am excited about this next school year!
NICOLE, MISSOURI
When we moved to our new city, I needed to find work ASAP, so I decided to sell Avon. I had never done anything like that before, and the thought of knocking on strangers’ doors was intimidating. But I made myself do it and discovered I actually liked it! Talking with ladies one-on-one about products we both loved was fun, and I did make a fair amount of money. It was quite an eye-opening experience. It made me braver about trying new things.
CAROLE, OKLAHOMA
I am both an introvert and a highly sensitive person. I chose my field, medical laboratory science, because I can work in a lab without interaction with patients, and work anything from full-time to once a month. Since having kids, I typically work once a week. I never thought homeschooling would be possible because I needed quiet during the day. But when my younger was in upper elementary and the older hit middle school, we decided to try. It has been the best decision! We are all able to sleep more, aren’t driven by schedules that interrupt our rhythms, and everyone has their assigned work and can do it independently most of the time. That’s not to say I ignore my children. But if I or my oldest (also an introvert / HSP) need a break, we are able to go elsewhere in the house.
MIA, TEXAS
I homeschooled my oldest for kindergarten. The decision was out of necessity since we lived overseas and didn’t have any other option. I loved the actual teaching and found it rewarding but was left feeling like, “What am I supposed to do with her for the rest of the day?” I live in a country with no access to resources such as libraries, museums, or parks. I knew for my sanity and the sanity of my child (a high extrovert) we couldn’t continue. For first grade she attended the local international school. We knew academically it wasn’t strong, but still made the decision and are glad we did. We now plan to move back to the States, based largely on educational needs. She will go into second grade in public school. Sometimes I wonder what homeschooling would be like in the States, but for now, it’s the best decision for our family.
ANNA, SOUTHEAST ASIA
I tried putting all four of my kids into daycare / preschool so I could work outside the home. The pace was horrible as the older kids went to one place and the younger ones to another. All the extra holiday programs and class parties were draining, and I had no freedom or choice over what the young ones learned. Finally, I decided to bring them all back to homeschool. It brought freedom to our family. Everyone’s health improved, including mine. We had time to be introverted because we could determine our course.
DAWN, ILLINOIS
PART 4
simple little pleasures
I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string.
L. M. MONTGOMERY, ANNE OF AVONLEA
CHAPTER 10
in quiet places
ON CULTIVATING CALM WHEREVER YOU ARE
We who live in quiet places have the opportunity to become acquainted with ourselves, to think our own thoughts and live our own lives in a way that is not possible for those keeping up with the crowd.
LAURA INGALLS WILDER, WRITINGS FROM THE OZARKS
You are a horrible mother.”
Have you ever had anyone voice your greatest fear straight to your face?
In all honesty, I’m not sure these exact words were stated during the conversation, but those that were spoken adamantly conveyed this tone, spirit, and underlying message. A neighbor had overheard one of our children’s tantrums, which began in the backyard. I quickly escorted my two other kids inside, coming back to gather up the third, when I saw him standing there. The exchange that followed hurts too much to repeat, even a decade later. The cruel words implanted themselves into the most fragile parts of my heart. This took place at the same time I had started writing my first book—about motherhood, no less—and the negativity he expressed wove a blanket of doubt and insecurity around my mind. The months that followed morphed into one of my hardest life seasons.
I no longer felt at home in my home. Wishing to avoid a repeat of the awful confrontation, every loud kid noise, happy or sad, made me nervous. Each day I’d make a special trip upstairs to peek out the highest window in our two-story house, the only way I could s
ee over our tall fence to be certain that none of our neighbors were in their yards before we ventured outside. Each day we walked to a nearby park instead of playing in our own backyard. And each day I grew more uncomfortable with the beautiful house God had given us, one I had always adored. I wished I could magically pick it up and plunk it down in the middle of nowhere, far from anyone. (Note: That’s introvert escapism right there and not a healthy coping mechanism!)
To daydream away this unpleasant reality, I imagined a house that would suit our family better. We didn’t need extra space inside, but I envisioned the kids stretching their legs and having more freedom to run, play, and explore outdoors. I jotted a dream list in the back of my journal. Over time, a snapshot of this fantasy home emerged on the page:
4 bedrooms
2 bathrooms
lots of character
on at least half an acre
a fence around the property
and the color? Definitely red.
Off and on, I looked at realtor and rental listings in our area (more escapism), but the search overwhelmed me. How likely was it that this house even existed near us, that we could afford it, and that the myriad of logistics required would pan out? After all, we did not need a new home, and wasn’t this just a first-world problem, while others endured real suffering? I understood why my Nana once asked, “Don’t you already have a house?” (Love and miss you, Nana!)
Months passed, and this dream house, residing on my journal’s back page, began distracting me from life. I spent too long wrestling with the fact that I wanted out of my current situation, and having a physical description of another home in my mind’s eye heightened those feelings. One day, while writing at our local library, I ripped out the list and threw it in the trash. I surrendered the whole situation to God and prayed that if he did have another house for us, he would bring it. I wouldn’t live in this fantasy world anymore. I made the hard decision to choose forgiveness and contentment, and Steve and I discussed ways we could fix up our house by tackling projects that we had put on hold. I got out the paintbrushes, slapped a fresh color on our bedroom walls, and did my best to redirect my thoughts when dissatisfaction came knocking. I also tried, though it was difficult, to smile at my neighbor, say hello, and respect his space and privacy.
About a month later, I received a social media message out of the blue from my friend Melissa. Did I know anyone looking for a house? She and her husband needed to rent out their home in the countryside for the next two years. I asked her to send me the listing, then opened the link and stared in awe. The house that popped up on my screen had:
4 bedrooms
2 bathrooms
over two hundred years old and full of character
two acres, a child’s paradise of a backyard
a traditional stone fence around the property
and the color? Red.
I burst into tears. God knew, God saw, God loved. He knew my situation, saw my hurts, loved my family and my flawed attempts at surrender. He answered a prayer that did not need answering, one that uprooted and replanted us more than seven years ago. I watched, astounded, as he brought beauty out of ashes, using this dreadful situation to unveil a new dream. I discovered that living in a rural area fit my introverted heart like a glove. Nature became therapist, nurturer, and as George Washington Carver once called it, God’s broadcasting system. I could breathe again.
QUIET IN YOUR WORLD VERSUS QUIET IN YOUR MIND
Suddenly a physical margin of two acres enveloped me, and it felt like a mental margin did too. With more quiet in my outer world, I experienced an inner joy like never before. My children remained just as loud as ever, mind you, and all the other issues I’d faced still waited in the queue. But each morning I woke up beside our massive bedroom window overlooking a grove of trees in the backyard, including the ancient maple that held the kids’ beloved tree swing. Even if I’d been up with a sleepless child or knew a crazy day awaited me, that view and the answered prayer it represented calmed me. I placed my writing desk in the corner of the room so I could turn to that inspiring scene as I typed on my laptop in the mornings. We didn’t have a church for a while after moving, but I spoke more to God and heard more from him in those days than I ever had.
My story isn’t any kind of formula to follow, as you may neither need nor want to live in the country. Yet every introverted woman needs her own version of what I found there, a room of one’s own, to borrow the phrase from Virginia Woolf. A consecrated spot, a calm corner. One of us may live in a rural area, another in a city apartment. Yet another mom resides in a crowded RV with her family, another in a self-constructed yurt on a homestead or in a white-picket-enclosed house in the suburbs. The amount of space matters little. It just matters that you have it.
And if you physically don’t? Try something I learned from another introverted mama writer, Heather Bruggeman of the blog Beauty That Moves: create a soul care basket. During her Summer Soul Camp e-course, Heather guided participants through the process of setting up a mobile camp basket. That way we could take our retreat on the go, while still responding to our family’s needs in the moment. I loved it! In my basket, one I rescued from the bottom of our linen closet, I placed a cloth shawl, a colorful felt bunting for decoration, my journal and pen, a candle, and a few matches. If the kids sat watching television inside, I took my soul care onto the porch. On especially harried days, I took it in the car and sat in the driveway to claim a few minutes of refuge. Other items you could include: earbuds for listening to music, favorite inspirational books, lotions or essential oil blends, a current handwork project, an old quilt. Change out your items every few months to add seasonal flair!
It’s important to have your own recharging space, yet it’s also true that you can get quiet in your world and still not have it in your mind. I can travel to a beach lover’s paradise or take a private walk in the middle of a peaceful field, but my thoughts can still spin a mile a minute. I can unpack a basket of beauty, light a candle, then wrestle with anxiety for an hour and emerge as depleted as when I started. As John Milton truthfully noted in Paradise Lost, “The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.” Quiet without does not always equal quiet within. Why not?
The answer isn’t simple. For decades I’ve berated myself for how challenging I find it to live in the present moment. It doesn’t come naturally to silence my inner world and take in information through my senses instead, to ground myself in what’s physically going on around me. Not all introverts have this in common, but I bet many of you know what I mean. Feeling as though I fail at this regularly, I often end up heaping guilt on top of my busy brain’s load.
Not long ago, however, I read something that eliminated my guilt trip. An article and accompanying diagram on the blog Introvert, Dear highlighted how introverted and extroverted brains process information in different ways. While an extrovert’s brain sends data via a shorter pathway, mainly through the areas that handle sensory input, an introvert’s brain sends data through a much longer pathway, including the areas that deal with empathy, self-reflection, emotional meaning, speech, self-talk, ideas, expectations, evaluating outcomes, and long-term memories.1 Whew! Are you tired yet? No wonder I can reach the dinner table and still be analyzing a conversation from breakfast! But I find this insight a one-way ticket to mental freedom. If God made our brains this way, it is not a deficiency but a beautiful reflection of his nature. We aren’t overreacting or malfunctioning; we’re going deeper. And we have something to offer that those who process differently cannot.
It’s one thing to understand that you gravitate toward an inner world, and another to let that world run away with you. Even as I acknowledge the good that can come from my thought “fullness,” I also know I can get trapped in unhealthy overthinking. I need to proactively address this, using strategies to help me stay my best so I get stuck less often. These aren’t miracle cures, of course, but since we’re not trying to cure
ourselves from being ourselves, we don’t need a miracle cure. A few practicalities I’ve found helpful: dietary supplements like Bach’s Rescue Remedy and Rescue Sleep, Natural Calm magnesium citrate supplement, a lavender essential oil blend, deep-breathing techniques, a women’s multivitamin (I like Vitafusion), taking a nap or a walk (both mood boosters), and using a chimes app on my phone as a signal to return to the moment.
If your thoughts have reached a dark place that you can’t break out of, please don’t stay there alone. Open up to a trusted friend, look for a life coach or counselor (BetterHelp.com and FaithfulCounseling.com are ideal for introverts since the therapy is online), explore medication—do whatever you need to protect and guard your mental health. You’re worthy and deserving of help, not because of all the duties you perform, but simply because you’re a child of God.
LIVING SLOW: LESSONS FROM LAURA INGALLS WILDER
We are so overwhelmed with things these days that our lives are all, more or less, cluttered. I believe it is this, rather than a shortness of time, that gives us that feeling of hurry and almost of helplessness.
LAURA INGALLS WILDER, LITTLE HOUSE IN THE OZARKS, 1924
Standing in front of the replica cabin, I cried. The Big Woods of Wisconsin long gone, only a few trees still guarded the site, grass and farmland as far as I could see. For nearly a year we had planned this road trip, through Wisconsin, Minnesota, and South Dakota, after reading and discussing the Little House books together. The kids insisted we play the TV show’s theme music as we pulled up in our rental van, then Trishna carried her set of Little House paper dolls inside for a visit. Alone for several minutes before any tourists arrived, we had a private moment to take it all in: the smallness of the cabin, the vastness of the land, the hard work it must have taken to survive. I looked around in awe, plenty of historical romance in my eyes.
Introverted Mom Page 13