My head is spinning today.
I have pictures of green landscapes for my desktop background because green trees make me feel calmer. I read a study awhile back that said looking at the pictures doesn’t help as much as looking at the actual trees but it does help so that’s why I keep my desktop green. Of course the problem is that if I’m on my computer then I’m working and there are windows open but I can hide all my applications and just stare at the outside when I need to.
Here, I put all of my desktop pics (over 100? a little less?) in a zip file for you. (It’s nearly 63 mb so it might take awhile to download). And you can download it here for awhile.
Ok, you introverts know that being sensitive is fodder for teasing even as a grownup from grownups. People can’t believe that you are that annoying or that you’re not being prickly on purpose. I remember going on a roadtrip with friends that lasted longer than we expected. They wanted to get a hotel room and I told Brett that if we did, I couldn’t share. I was tired of them, tired of people entirely and knew that if we slept in the same room that I’d fall apart. I’ve got a tendency to shut down and be hostile as a protective measure and while I’ve gotten better at controlling this, twenty-ish years ago I wasn’t great at hiding my feelings. Well, one of the other couple was just furious that I wouldn’t share a hotel room and save on expense. When we stopped for gas, I pulled Brett aside to tell him I was serious about this — our own hotel room, please. And the angry person in the couple had followed us away from the car to hear what I was saying and then berated me for the rest of the drive home (I wouldn’t budge on sharing, the other person wouldn’t budge on not) and telling me all the ways I was an impossible, prickly person who enjoyed ruining everyone else’s good time.
It is true that I am often impossible and often prickly but I swear to goodness I don’t like being the spoil funner although I’ve been her my whole life.
It has been gratifying to meet other introverts who also dislike “fun” things like parades, carnivals, festivals, crowds, exciting cities, great parties, etc. etc. I have gotten better at doing those things and I can even enjoy them but it takes special care before and after and I have to get through a lot of dread beforehand. But you know how it is, people don’t believe you. How could you not enjoy this super fun thing??? How could you be such a drag once we’re there? Why do you have to ruin everything???
Introverts, in my experience, are highly sensitive in other ways. We can be randomly fragile people (although many of us are, I have found, awfully strong in the long run and I think that comes from all that practice we get steeling ourselves). We are used to having our feelings dismissed. We are used to people telling us to get over it. We are used to hearing it from people who love us and who are otherwise kind to us (like our parents and friends and family).
Here’s an example. When I was a kid — like a little toddling kid still in diapers — I was afraid of carpet fuzzies. You know, those little fuzzies that get up between your toes when you are a sticky-footed toddler walking on acrylic carpet. I don’t quite remember being afraid of them but I do remember sitting, looking at my be-fuzzied toes and feeling despair. (Sensory issues — I’m telling you, introversion is a sensory issue and lots of us introverts have other sensory issues, too.) My big sister used to throw fuzzies at me and it would make me scream.
Of course it’s ridiculous to be afraid of carpet fuzz and it’s ridiculous to feel despair at the way they wind their way around your toes. But I was about two. And when you’re two you don’t have a scope of reference. You are still fresh and new and small things (especially if you are perhaps maybe a little sensory impaired) can feel overwhelming. You don’t know that the despair of unrelenting carpet fuzzies is part of being new to the world and will — for most of us — wear off.
It’s still a family joke about me once being afraid of carpet fuzz and it’s still something my sister teases me about. I am, of course, no longer scared of them. (I can walk barefoot across carpet with the best of ‘em!) I’ve also long learned that there are much more frightening things than carpet fuzz and, too, I’ve learned that there is usually a light at the end of things and that I am unlikely to be permanently undone by temporary discomfort. Of course I’m forty. You can see how that’s a lot for a two year old to know. Anyway, it’s still a funny thing, this phobia I once had and it sums up — for me and for my family — the thin-skinned-ness of me. Not only was she impossible on road trips (getting carsick and so always getting a window seat while my brother and sister had to trade off on the middle), not only was she slow to warm and quick to cool, she was afraid of carpet fuzz. Well, that just says it all, doesn’t it?
Here’s a secret: I don’t actually think it’s funny yet. I mean, that I used to be afraid of carpet fuzz. Because I remember that despair and I remember how overwhelming the world is when you are small and learning and while carpet fuzz is indeed one of the sillier things in the world to be scared of, as a stand-in for all the uncontrollable mess of life in the mind of a 2-year old it makes perfect sense to me. I’m old enough to laugh along with my family when they bring this up because with time you realize that having the people you love not always understand you is a grown up version of carpet fuzz. Itchy and uncomfortable but only as hurtful as you let it be. (That is a very stretched metaphor but I’m gonna leave it because I need to finish this and make my kids lunch so we can get to homeschool park day.) So, you know, I laugh because it’s easier to go along with how funny my insane sensitivity is then to prove how insane it really is by taking offense.
This experience and all the zillions of experiences like it that I had growing up is why I’m a great listener when it comes to my kids feelings. I’ll admit, I’ve rolled my eyes with Noah’s clothing predilections when he was younger, but I worked to acceptance because I know how it feels to be lovingly dismissed. I don’t mean that my parents did anything wrong — they just didn’t always get me and really I’m not easy to get, (which is why Brett is stuck with me forever and ever and ever — I know a good thing when I’ve got it!! And we may not have a shower but my feeling about the shower now are nowhere near the feelings I had about fuzzies 38-years ago). So I work hard to get my kids. Frankly, I work my ass off at it. I don’t always get it right the first, second or third time but I listen and when Noah tells me I’m blowing it, I hear him even if it isn’t easy. (Madison hasn’t told me I’m blowing it yet but at 13, Noah has my number.) I take them seriously and they know it.
It’s because of the fuzzies, my friends. At least they ended up being good for something.


Julia















