I’m fresh back from a three day holiday up north(ish.)

Eight of us piled our snow gear into two trucks and drove three hours north to intentionally fall down for a few hours.

Humans are weird.

It was a great trip, no drama, everyone got along, and no one broke anything. The cabin was a few feet from the bunny slopes, which meant less driving around in black ice, and the backyard had a foot or so of fresh powder for us to roll around in while cackling in the middle of the night.  I need more weekends like that in my life.

Today I woke up (two days after the big day of snowboarding,) early in the morning and stepped out of bed. The second my bodyweight hit my foot I had to grab the bed to not crumble into a heap of wobbly meat sticks. Every muscle in my body cried out in terror and was suddenly silenced.

Wait, no that was Alderaan. But still, it hurts to be alive today.

Other than the pain, I kind of kicked Monday’s ass today: I woke up, got super organized at work, helped out some co-workers, whipped some people into shape that have been ignoring me, ran two miles, sent my book off to three new beta readers and had a great meeting. In the evening, I spent some time with my parents, cooked for the Haszband, then squeezed a giant bag of lemons, made fresh lemonade and brought it over to our friend’s/neighbor’s house.

Now it’s not even 9 yet, and I have time to dig into my homework for the week.

Only seven weeks of this class and I’ll have a few months off again.

I need to remind myself that when I debate whether or not I should read the required New Marketing chapters, and not Changeless (book two in the Parasol Protectorate series…)

For the record, the photo above is definitely not my home. If it were I would be rocking to and fro in a fetal position in the darkest corner I could find.

I merely used this photo to paint

an image. Of a slightly less cluttered, but item filled > 1400 square foot home, inhabited by two earthlings and (at the time) two Bengal cats and one Bengal kitten. In short, a madhouse.

I’m not sure how I how the topic came up, but one day my chiropractor started telling me about an open house he had visited. He was gushing about the labels on the shelves in the cupboards, and how each drawer had a divider… a place for everything, and everything you know where.

He had asked the owner of the house how she got to be so impressively organized. She told him of an ancient holy text (slight exaggeration) that a friend had bestowed upon her during her travels (the library.) The text read of organization, decluttering, anti-stress, and joy.

Needless to say, I was seeing stars… and that weird hazy light that shines around the love interest at the pivotal moments in a cheesy rom-com. But not around my chiropractor, (sorry ladies, he’s taken,) but around the book he had just pulled up on his phone:

(Queue drumroll please…)

“The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up” by Marie Kondo.

Why aren’t you clapping yet?

Are you seriously still seated?

Come on! It’s a book about organization and purging unnecessary clutter!

Still no? Ok, let’s see if I can change your mind.

This is the perfect book for spring cleaning. I feel as though there may be a placebo effect just from purchasing it. You unwrap the cardboard box that you shove into your recycling bin and hold in your hands the key to a less cluttered life.

After reading the first page, you are inspired to go organize your desk drawer, but chapter two you are purging the contents of the spare bathroom no one ever uses, halfway through the text you are starting to sound like a zealot while you are explaining to the woman behind you in the grocery line why she absolutely needs to read this book and how it will help her find her chapstick at the bottom of her purse…

Is that weird? Maybe.

Is it awesome? I think so.

Before I even finished the book I was halfway through my house. I systematically attacked each room of our home (much to my husband’s chagrin,) and cleaned out each and every drawer, cupboard, pirates chest (What? Nothing..), shelf, bucket…. you get the idea.

With each giant garbage bag of donations I felt a little bit of burden and anxiety release, but what I didn’t realize was that it was floating down the hallway, into our perfectly barren bedroom and settling in my husband’s shoulders.

My husband is an artist. He creates music, drawings, paintings, sculptures. He works with wood, metal, plastics. He repurposes our flea market finds into instruments or turns instruments into furniture. His mind works so fast that often times one project is abandoned when he is inspired by another, and another, and so on.

Unlike his type-A, OCD, anxiety-ridden spouse; a whole-house purge was not something on his bucket list.

In retrospect, I should have verified that my enthusiasm was shared by my life-long roommate before commencing with the purge, but the end result was a reset home in which we could prioritize what was important to both of us, and to hold one another accountable before bringing in another unicycle (one is enough.)

So I definitely suggest you check this book out, whether you are a hoarder or already semi-organized. But a word of caution before you start dumping out the contents into your life and holding each item to determine if it actually gives you joy (no sarcasm, an actual chapter in the book,) make sure all members of the household are aware of what is happening around them, and be sure to tell them the new location of the can opener.

My memory is fading. Which is sort of concerning, since I’m only thirty. I like to tell myself that it’s not failing and that my brain is just occupied with more important information like precise movie quotes and the perfect comeback to something someone said to me a week ago.

While my medial temporal lobe is retroactively providing and storing the perfect retort to Susan’s snarky statement (damn you, Susan!), I figured I’d might as well utilize my handy-dandy (and completely abandoned) blog to house some amusing stories about my life and relationships in case I forget, or become wickedly famous and people want to know how it all began.

To start, you should know a little about me.

I am an introvert.

“Whaaaaat?” You ask?

Yes, it’s true.

My perfect date night involves staying at home, watching a movie, drinking a beer and with no sudden noises.

Sometime’s when I’m feeling spunky I’ll drive the twelve minutes into town for some Mexican food, which ends up feeling like an accomplishment I check off on my mental checklist (Yep, definitely a thing.)

I enjoy organization, planning, and strategy and learning new things. Starting my MBA last year could be equated to someone else getting a sweet new ankle tat.

I have always had anxiety and periodic bouts of depression, and struggle with self-esteem and confidence, ironically most specifically with my writing which is one of my passions.

I know what you are thinking now… “Damn, she sounds super hot and spontaneous.”

Well, thank you for saying that, but it’s just not true.

With my aversion to messes (and sometimes creativity in general,) disorganization and chaos, naturally, I married a free-spirited, entrepreneurial, musician, who can literally turn anything into an instrument and likes to climb tall rocks and periodically jump out of airplanes just to see if he’s still afraid of heights…

No, this isn’t the plot for an upcoming novel, this is real life. My life. And I love it.

Opposites attract and repel as comically as you’ve seen on TV in our household. From discussions of hyper-organization to why humming isn’t always needed, we cover a lot of hard-hitting and hot topics.

I’ll be sure to tell you all stories as they pop up.

I’m having the best night ever. It’s Saturday night, its raining in San Diego, we have a fire roaring in our wood burning stove, we’re drinking a local brewery’s porter, eating mint chocolate chip ice cream in pajamas all while watching the Wizard of Oz. The only thing that could make it better would be to watch Star Wars after this, which we’ve just committed to.

This got me thinking, Introverts truly are the most low maintenance dates ever.

Check out the 5 reasons why I think Introverts are the lowest maintenance folks:

1. Appreciate the Little Things

Introverts appreciate all things big and small….but specifically the small and intimate. At least for me, the more flamboyant and extravagant the event, the more uncomfortable I am. Introverts enjoy small gatherings with people they care about, doing meaningful things.

Learn what your introvert enjoys, or something they loved doing growing up ( such as watching the Wizard of Oz….) and plan a night around that.

2. We’re Cheap Dates

Since we love the little things, typically little things are inexpensive. We enjoy quiet picnics, movie nights indoors and the occasional dinner out. All in all, the less complicated the event the more happy we are.

3. Dressed to the 4’s

Forget dressing to the 9’s – we dawn our best sweat pants and ugg boots for our ideal date night. I’m talking messy buns, no make up, sports bra under your fav college sweater. Comfy is king for the introverted.

4. Ditch the Steak and Lobster

Recently my husband and I have started focusing on eating more at home. We alternate nights cooking dinner and have really come to enjoy it! We found that we were spending too much time and money eating out when really we could make our favorite foods at home and share our upbringing with each other. Forget the steak and lobster, bring on the gourmet grilled cheese and semi successful chicken piccata.

5. Easily entertained

I joke all the time that I’m entertained by wall paper and its true. I can count on one hand the times I’ve told someone that I was “bored.” Introverts have a tendency to find stuff to keep them busy. Whether it’s a new idea, a new book or a new show on Netflix, Introverts are always busy.  Any date idea is a good one, and if stuff goes wrong and we end up watching tv in pjs even better!

Wrong kind of fire, but you get the idea

In short, less is more, and if it’s personal and meaningful even better! Home made dinner, movies I’ve already seen a million times and a nice fire burning and I’m a happy camper.

Gotta run, Empire Strikes Back is starting!

Share your ideal introverted date nights below!

 

 

We’ve discussed in the past the necessary evil of some labels. I don’t feel that being either an introvert or an extrovert is in any way a hindrance.  I’ve debated with some folks that feel that being an introvert has held them back, or deterred them from living, but I don’t believe that labeling yourself one or the other determines all decisions for you from that point on.

I am a very cautious person. My father is a retired Lieutenant in the Sheriff’s department, so I was raised to always plan ahead, exercise situational awareness and to not take unnecessary risks. This way of thinking carried into my adult life, where I continue to over think sometimes and don’t jump in head first into the unknown. I also suffer from anxiety, so breaking out of my comfort zone is easier said than done. 

When I learned about the varying personality types in Psych 101 it opened my eyes to how different people truly are. I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that some folks actually get “energized” at parties, or they are happiest in a huge crowd of people. It’s challenging for me to imagine someone programmed 100% the opposite of me.

My husband is an extrovert – at least he was when we started dating. He is also a musician, and recharges his batteries by putting on shows, going to concerts, hanging out with friends at parties etc. We had hung out a lot in high school at small parties, so he thought that I was also an extrovert – turns out I’m just an amazing faker.

Whether or not I was faking it, the parties were the same, small groups of close friends who knew me. They where in a safe location, there wasn’t any danger, I knew my exits and I always had a escape plan. All of this was all internal, so to Jon, I just seemed like this ostentatious girl who laughed the loudest and had the most fun.

The difference between the two of us is that he’d walk away from the party completely pumped to go take on the next adventure, and I would be completely and entirely exhausted and crawling toward my flannel pajamas.

All Partied Out!

As mentioned before, no one is 100% introvert or extrovert, they are somewhere in between.

I am an INTJ, on the extrovert side of introversion. Interestingly enough, my mother, sister, mother-in-law and besties are all Introverts, but all different combinations and percentages!

Take the test to see where you fall! Let us know your letters in the comments below!

 

I rarely felt a part of anything except my immediate family. Of course I compared myself to them, my larger than life parents, who each accomplished the impossible and were able to talk to anyone. My younger sister was much more outgoing than I was: confident and secure in her huge circle of friends. Usually one friend at a time was enough for me.

I’ve always had a way with dogs

From elementary school to college, I sat in the back of class. Being called on to speak was the stuff of nightmares, and I can recall most of my incorrect responses to this day.  If I answered incorrectly, it was because my heart had stopped and my stomach reeled, not because I didn’t know the answer. This further proved to me that being silent and invisible was the best defense. Somehow I managed to graduate from College without taking a speech class–one of my greatest accomplishments!

I have never played in sports or performed in front of a crowd. My idea of a great time is cooking a great dinner, painting a picture or reading a book. Dogs are my friends. The never ending chattiness of some people is very hard for me to take. I have never belonged to a club or very long to a church. I was not part of “the group” at work or at school. I hate parties. Sometimes I think I have missed out by not being somebody’s maid of honor or playing an instrument onstage, but mostly I am happy with my small life at home.

It’s always been hard for me to ask for help, not because of pride but because of introversion, and the fear of being made fun of. I have figured out how to do things myself, for better or worse.

Three marriages have taught me that running away is not the answer to problems, although the first two times I felt I had no choice. I couldn’t face the idea of a courtroom and a fight with the first one, but the second time I left with a tiny daughter who forced me to be strong for her. This was the first time I ever felt worthy, capable of caring for someone who depended on me. She made me responsible enough to take chances that I would never have taken otherwise. I chose to move from the beauty of the Rockies to Southern California to be with family and find a job. I was on another planet,    because Southern California is the place where you’d better like lots of people.

That’s me in my saucy Sunday suit on the right.

It is hard to know where introversion leads: some people, like my mother, overcame her shyness to speak in front of crowds. Some, like me, develop ancillary problems with self esteem, anxiety, depression, and the tendency towards substance abuse. I have overcome my fear of crowds to be in charge of a roomful of children as a teacher, but could never participate in a meeting of my peers.

My paralyzing fear of speaking in class helped me understand my own students, and my classroom was always a busy, sharing, cooperative learning kind place. Bullying and discrimination were never allowed in my inclusion classroom, a place where Special Ed kids felt as safe as their mainstream peers. Discovery in the classroom was my goal. Lectures were rare, discussions were continuous.

With my own children I have let them make mistakes and I was never a very good soccer mom: good for me they were swimmers (a solitary sport). As a Montessori aide I learned about allowing kids to own their intrinsic pride, not saying “I am proud of you”, taking it for myself. I would say this guiding principle made me the parent I became, allowing my kids to discover themselves instead of being “talked at”.

Not sure it was right, but one is never sure of parenting rights and wrongs. It was right for me. I hope it was right for them.

The love of my life

In my golden years now, I’m still a little short of confidence and self esteem, still am trying to find my way, still avoid crowds in malls and groups of people in theaters and get togethers.  I am lucky to have a husband and family that tolerates my occasional hermit behavior, but sometimes they take me places to watch me hyperventilate and twitch.

Strangely I find the excitement of going to another country a comfort instead of a threat. We have visited Peru during a labor strike. That was as memorable as a winding journey through the Austrian Alps, or swimming with dolphins in New Zealand. In the time I have left, I hope to continue to learn by traveling.

Is it a lifelong curse or a blessing to be an introvert? I only know I could not have been any different than I am, and I hope my own awareness has helped some others along the way. I have found it is easier to be understanding when you are an observer rather than the one in the spotlight. That has worked for me so far.