I get that it’s hard living with an introvert

This is a great article about how to love an introvert. I get that it’s tough, I’m not easy to love. But here’s why…

Introvert hamster ball

When I’m told “you’re so cold” and “if I wanted to be left alone I could marry a rich old man and have him not touch me”. I just withdraw even further into my shell. I get that it’s hard to understand and to live with someone who is (according to the Myers-Briggs typology) 100% introvert. I’m a pretty solitary person. It’s who I am. I can’t be anything else. I know that sounds like a cop out, but here’s the thing, say I force it, say I push through the bubble that surrounds me and MAKE myself interact and force myself to be affectionate and ‘up’, then what? Then I am interacting under duress, not because I’m actually feeling it. That feels like lying.

There’s more to it than that, I am on medication that makes me groggy in the mornings. I feel like I’m under water watching the world go by above the surface. I’m trapped in my own mind. I am doing three loads of dishes, putting dinner on in the slow cooker and hanging out the washing. I am already multi-tasking. I also have an exam to finish and a job to start this week. I am thinking about all the things I have to do and all the money I don’t have to pay the thousand bucks worth of bills that’s due now. And it is at THIS moment that you choose to tell me that I am cold. I know I am. I’m sorry.

That’s more than fair enough and a completely valid thing to say. If you don’t feel valued or loved, if you feel shut out and lonely in this relationship then that is not a good thing.

I am on the inside of the bubble looking out. The world is there whizzing past. I think it’s partially the effects of the meds, it is also just my nature. I’m not hugely social and am actually happiest in my own company. Having to talk to people all the time, having to interact with people all the time, I find that overwhelming and exhausting. In the mornings I get all the kids ready, pack bags, do the school run, talk to other parents and preschool teachers. By the time I get home I’m ready to hibernate for a while.

I feel like I make an effort, if you can believe that. I attempted several conversations, about Jude’s little friend at preschool, about the washing, the lawn mowing, about what to make for dinner and who is here when. That, just that, was really REALLY hard for me. Draining even.

Now I’ve written this all out I feel marginally better that it isn’t circling my brain on loop.

Here’s a poem called “How to Love Your Introvert”, watch, make sure you watch all the way to number 6. He says it far better than I can…

Equating interacting with people with exercise was brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. YES! Socialising with people is like running a marathon, and you wouldn’t ask an olympian to run another race after she just finished the marathon. She’s tired and needs to recover.

Are there any other extreme introverts out there?


How do you manage it on a daily basis?

The Owl and The Peacock

Once upon a time there was an Owl. She was not particularly wise or particularly old, but she did like to read books, and she was always writing things. Scrawling and scratching on bits of bark and tree trunks and large flattish leaves.


The Owl had been involved with a few other birds. The first, a Hen, could not fly because she was very large and very heavy, and her Master had clipped her wings. What she didn’t realise was that her Master was all in her head.


Because the Hen could not fly she was always looking up at the Owl. She made the Owl out to be someone who was of special significance, but never saw her eye to eye, because it was impossible to see properly from tree branch to ground like that. The Owl came down occasionally to feed, and every time she talked to the Hen she found her to be kind and gentle and with a soul made of pure love. But the Hen would not make an effort to come up into the trees, and eventually the Owl got sick of having to yell her conversations down to the Hen and only feeling half-heard, so she moved on.

The next bird the Owl came across was somewhat of a shape changer. She made herself out to be a Dove. She convinced the not-so-wise Owl that she was pretty special and that she really cared. But the Owl was not only unwise, she was also short sighted, and she had forgotten to wear her glasses. What she thought was a Dove was actually an Eagle, and this Eagle just wanted to get to her own end point. She had no eyes for the Owl, instead she was looking at the far horizon.


The Owl badly wanted the Eagle to see her. She badly wanted the Eagle to be less Eagle and more Dove. But the Eagle could only be who she was. With her eyes on the horizon she used the updraft from the Owl’s words to soar higher and faster until she hit the horizon. The Owl watched her go and felt depleted. The Owl was done with looking for birds with whom she could connect on a deep level. She had her books and her scratchings on bark and tree. She decided she would not look any more.

Then out of the corner of her eye she spotted a Peacock. This Peacock was beautiful. She was a blaze of colour and show, and all the other birds were watching her as she walked through the woods. She was interesting because she was a girl, yet she had the colours and markings of a boy Peacock. Her colours were quite extraordinary, but they did not impress the Owl, instead she found them distracting. She did think that the Peacock looked like a fun bird. The Owl doubted that a bird with such colour and such a fan club of little Sparrows circling her wherever she went could have enough depth to meet her.


The Peacock was used to having all the birds chase after her. She was intrigued by the Owl’s apparent disinterest. She decided to make the Owl a special challenge. The Owl was not like the little Sparrows the Peacock was used to being surrounded by. She had plain colours and her shape was not streamlined. Not like the birds that were made for dancing. The Owl was made for conversations that lasted long into the night.

The Peacock decided to meet the Owl. She spread her wings and flew up into the Owl’s favourite tree. As she landed on the branch she looked into the Owl’s eyes. The Owl had, luckily, remembered her glasses this time. She saw that the Peacock, for all her show and her colour, also had a soul. And her soul had been bled of its depth until it looked like a hollow nest. A nest where a Dove might sleep. The Owl was no longer distracted by the Peacock’s colours. She wanted to know about the Peacock’s soul and what had happened to empty it out so. The Peacock realised that all those seemingly harmless little Sparrows that were circling had each taken a tiny bite of her soul with them, and now it was almost hollow. But it would refill itself once the Sparrows stopped picking at it.

The Peacock and the Owl decided to swap stories. They told tales of Hens and Doves that were Eagles and Sparrows that ate souls and Cassowaries that attacked with such viciousness that they drove the Peacock’s babies away. Their eyes met across the branches of the Owl’s favourite tree. And suddenly the Peacock’s soul was full again, but now she looked less like a Peacock and more like a Dove. And the Owl finally felt seen.

The Peacock-with-the-heart-of-a-Dove decided she would stay with the Owl, and the Owl made room for her there on her branch. They decided to share it. They talked all night about souls and stars and what makes a bird empty out like the light at dusk. They pondered the big stuff like how hearts are made and broken. And then they watched the sunrise across the valley, and they knew it would be the first of many that they would watch together.


The world was full of empty souls and birds who didn’t see. The Owl and the Peacock-with-the-heart-of-a-Dove had their eyes and hearts open. The world would never be the same.

I’m Baaaaaack…… and I missed YOU!

Hey Peeps! It’s been so long. I’m back. I’m envisioning your faces when my post popped up in your feed. I bet they looked something like this…

Shocked Mouse

Oh crap! It’s her again

So what have I been up to? Last semester I completed 9 units (yes 9, I am fully aware that 4 is full time). I also did 2 pracs, one teaching year 12 at a selective senior high school, and one teaching 2-4 year olds in a preschool. Both very awesome and very different. So it was full time, times two and then one unit. I was so exhausted I didn’t know which way was up. I still have one take home exam and a prac reflection and materials to submit. I’m working on that this week.

After the madness subsided I had a bit of a crash, well, a lot of a crash. I had been ditching sleep and pretty much everything that kept me going for the whole of the semester. My body and mind just couldn’t cope. I spent a few weeks in a daze. I am on new drugs, and I’m slowly coming good. But you know what I realised in all of that? How much I love to write, and how much I NEED to write. It’s one of the things that keeps me going. Yes it takes time out of my day, but without this, without you, I am crashing again.

So here I am. I am hoping that you haven’t all vanished into the fourth dimension, and that you’re all happy to pick up where we left off. I know this is bloggy down time coming into Christmas. I am prepared to build this thing up again from the ground. I’m hoping you’re still there on the other end of all those zeros and ones floating through the Internet.

When I see your little gravatars pop up in the comments I’m sure to feel like this dude felt when he found his stingray again after such a long time

sting ray love

I’m back. I’ve missed you. Let’s continue this journey. Autobots…roll out!