Sunday, March 6, 2011

A Closet Introvert Surviving in an Extrovert World

Whenever I call myself an introvert someone usually laughs and says that there is no way I can be an introvert. I don’t even want to begin to guess how they would describe me, but the only other people who understand what I mean are other introverts.

The difference between introversion and extroversion doesn’t necessarily show up in public. I knew an over the top extrovert once (she was my supervisor many years ago) and she drove me crazy. Stella was the type of person who wanted everyone to join in on everything and had very few boundaries. She admitted that she got her energy from being around people. That was so true. She was sucking us dry. By the time I finished an hour in her presence I felt like I had been wrung out and left to dry. In addition to being an extrovert, she had significant control issues. The combination is deadly.

I am the type of introvert who can flip a switch and turn on in front of a group of people. If you put a microphone into my hand I turn into Oprah. But that isn’t an introvert, you might say. Well, if I do that more than an hour or two, I end up exhausted and just want to be alone. Don’t get me wrong. I like people. I just like them in small doses. Most of my friends know that I need to go places in my own car so that I can escape as soon as possible. Being dependent on someone else for a ride makes me extremely anxious. I have to be able to leave when I am ready to. The above mentioned Stella once required me to go on a harbor cruise for the agency holiday party. I tried and tried to get out of it, but she almost threatened my job if I didn’t go. I was miserable. Being on that boat meant I couldn’t leave when I had used up my sociability. And being forced to go had already left my sociability tank close to empty.

Small talk requires effort. Some people are able to do it well. I don’t. When I was a child I was more than likely in my room or in a corner with a book when relatives showed up. I was often sullen. I can still pull off sullen but realize that it is pretty immature. Instead, I just put on my social face and have an escape plan. For this reason, I have only a couple of friends who know me well. And they will tell you that it took effort on their part to break through my wall. My best friend, Barbara, told me once that after she had met me at the church we were attending she knew she wanted to be friends. She told her husband that it was hard because I was out the door as soon as possible when service or other events were over. It took time, but the friendship has endured for over ten years.

The positive part of being an introvert is that I really like being in my own company. I am rarely bored due to a multitude of projects I have going at one time. Today was a great example. I had a long week. I worked six days in a row and spent most of each day with groups of people or working one on one with trauma survivors. I had to be “on” a lot this week. This morning I got up and started doing some projects and soon realized that I was having such a great time that I didn’t want to go out at all. If the sun was shining I would have liked to have gone for a walk. However, the last thing I wanted to do was be around other people. I like that aspect of myself. I am comfortable by myself. Being home alone gives me the opportunity to re-charge so that I can be “on” for the rest of the week.

I am grateful that I am not so introverted that I can’t get out. I do like being social but know my limitations. I would hate to be held captive by my own anxiety or shyness. I experienced those feelings years ago. Now, though, I have less fear and more contentment. As my confidence has increased I have become more social. Maybe someday I will be a flamboyant old lady who enjoys wearing red plaid scarves and purple sneakers while dancing down the street. That would be fun. But I would still need an escape plan!

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Miss “No Maintenance” Tried to Step It Up a Tad

I just need to vent about my morning.

I woke this morning to blue skies and sun. It is March 1st and there is a promise of spring on the calendar in twenty more days. My mood was a little better than yesterday when I suffered from weather crankiness from sliding through ice and slush. It was a miserable day of “wintry mix”, my most hated type of weather.

In honor of the new month, I decided to step it up a little. I am basically a “no maintenance” woman. It takes me all of fifteen minutes to shower, dress, brush my teeth, and comb my hair. I rarely wear make-up and I prefer a no fuss approach to my naturally curly, independent minded hair. This morning I decided to take a little extra time.

I realized I couldn’t wear what I wanted to because most of my clothes were in the washer. I had forgotten to put them in the dryer last night, leaving me to forage through the closet for a pair of slacks that fit and weren’t covered in cat hair. Boo has found the box on top of which I have stacked extra comforters and she loves to hide there now and then when I am cleaning or playing the cello. I don’t usually object but this particular spot is right underneath the hangers that hold my slacks. All of my slacks have cat hair on the waist and the bottom of the legs. Sort of reminiscent of the awful look of the 60’sand 70’s when we would sew extra fabric on the bottom of our high water jeans, except this looks more like a feather boa wrapped around the legs and waist. Not pretty. Actually, pretty fugly.

After removing as much hair as possible, I got dressed and then looked in the mirror. I was aghast. Bozo the clown with salt and pepper hair was looking back at me. I plugged in the curling iron – which I have only used once before – and, while it heated,I decided to put on makeup. Don’t get too excited, all you high maintenance women out there. My makeup consists of some moisturizer topped with some bare minerals and nothing else. No mascara. No lipstick.

I wrapped a towel around my neck to catch any stray powder and cursed myself for deciding to do this after I was dressed. As I was cursing, I accidentally flicked the makeup brush in the wrong direction, covering the right arm of my sweater in bare minerals. Oy Frikkin’ Vey. I swear I could hear the universe laughing at me. Boo ran from the bathroom. She had been watching this all and must have sensed that things were not going as planned. I cleaned up, finished applying the makeup, and then proceeded to tame my frizzy halo. I managed to do fair work and decided that it was all worth the effort. I looked like a confident, professional woman. A step up from my usual.

I put on my shoes. These days I am more about function than form when it comes to shoes. I know woman who walk around on icy streets in stiletto heels while I prefer a nice simple Merrell loafer that has good traction on ice. One of my goals for this winter has been to not fall down and those shoes are my ticket to survival. So off I go looking pretty good from my knees on up.

I walked out the door and the universe had a party at my expense. By time I got to my car, the 20 mph hour wind gusts returned my hair to its original state. I swear that the birds were even laughing at me.

The next time I decide to step it up, it will be 65 degrees and there will be no wind. Any warmer and I am in danger of sweating the makeup off. Much colder and it just isn’t worth it.

I think I like being “no maintenance.” After all the bitchin’ about my hair this morning, I called for an emergency appointment with my hair stylist and I now have a cut that I just need to run my fingers through. I will save any intense hair management for Boo. She deserves it for all she has to put up with.