Tag: introversion

Posted on

On Truth and Possibilities

Brown skinned feet with red toenails on green grass.
Me, enjoying a moment of sunshine and introspection.

Just told the truth about something. Risked quiet criticism disguised as questions, but told the truth all the same.

In the past I might’ve eventually gotten there. Perhaps.

It would’ve taken forever to word it the right way, couching it to ward off potential negativity. I might’ve given a partial answer, obscuring the whole truth for an unsatisfying omission. But the truth was the truth. My truth. One I’ve known for a long time, but didn’t have, or create, an opening to share it. And finally here was my chance. I took it.

I mentioned Brené’s work yesterday and I think it’s part of the reason I responded as I did. She encourages you to be courageous, and embrace vulnerability, “the feeling we get when we feel uncertain, at risk, or emotionally exposed.”

As a thoughtful, shy, introverted adult, I think a lot, but I don’t share my thinking much. Only with those who know how to listen. Really listen. And in the past couple of years, I’ve become even less inclined to share for one reason or another. But this practice of silence has resulted in a diminished quality of life – wasting time on things that don’t bring me joy, and don’t create value. Sure, there are times when such work is required, but if a few moments of vulnerability can remove hours of meaningless shit, well isn’t it worth the effort?

Not too long ago, I might’ve said no. Might’ve found that toiling away on nonsense was worth the safety, the security, the silence of certainty. But we live, and hopefully, we evolve, and when the time is right, we make new choices. And when the risky, scary moment ends, possibilities begin.

Posted on

Lead Through Art

Before my blogging break, I had the wondrous opportunity to attend the Aspen Institute’s Seminar on Leadership, Values and the Good Society. I found the experience a rewarding, albeit challenging one. It stretched me well beyond my introverted comfort zone. (Read my series about it here).

The seminar was geared toward leaders, and I found myself uneasy that I was not a leader in the traditional sense. There was one professional artist – a novelist – in attendance, and she admitted she felt the same. It was something I pondered throughout the experience.

I tend to take labels, categories and rules quite literally. And although I sometimes bend or break or mold things to suit me, other times I allow myself to feel confined and constrained. Quite often, the more constrained I feel, the more likely it is I’ve built the prison myself. In other words, I’m free to be or express myself, but I impose the limitations. It’s a lifelong struggle. In some moments I am able to break through, but others find me longing for true freedom.

I’m working on it.

CCI10142015
Aspen Seminar Cohort

In that setting, I gave up a lot of my freedom and power to external circumstances. I had a sense this gathering was important, that I was somehow lucky to be there and although smart enough to understand the content, not really “qualified” in the technical sense. Classic impostor syndrome: What if they find out I don’t belong?

I know and understand many models of leadership, especially those on an intimate scale. Leadership in a classroom. In a family. In a situation. Still, in this group, I felt as if that wasn’t enough. That maybe, I wasn’t enough.

These were my internal demons. Lies. And yet there I was, chipping away at the lies each moment of the Seminar. Each session found me reframing my internal dialogue, encouraging myself to participate. Reminding myself I belonged. I was leading myself to Truth.

In the closing session on March 8, 2015, we were to handwrite a letter to ourselves, responding to the following questions:

  1. What take-aways do you want to remember?
  2. What commitments will you make to yourself?
  3. What personal goals/changes do you want to make?

The seminar organizers promised to mail those letters six months later, and I received mine right around Labor Day this year. I won’t share all the details, but I will share my closing determination:

Lead through art!

Looking back on the experience, I feel more confident of my ability to contribute in the future. To be myself. To realize that in a room of leaders with highly regarded and diverse experiences, I belong.

Posted on

Comfort zone

As a general rule, I love routine. I like to be oriented. I want clear directions. I want to know what to expect. As a child, my parents thought it was cool to say things like, “Let’s go!” without any explanation as to where we were going. Some people think this is adventurous. I found it highly irritating.

Sometimes my mother would give me a choice between some wonderful surprise or staying home. If I couldn’t know in advance, I always chose to stay home. They never caught on that I just needed to know what I was getting in to. The ice cream, the movie, the {insert wonderful thing}, was simply not enough of a draw. The key thing for me was knowing what was going on. Having a clear sense of place and belonging.

I’d like to say I grew out of it. The truth is, I am just more willing to be uncomfortable. I dislike going into crowded rooms if I am unfamiliar with the layout. I’m not excited to strike up conversations with strangers just because we’re near each other.

I will do these things, and I can make the best out of it. I can smile genuinely and find points of connection. I can get oriented in a disorienting situation.

But it doesn’t bring me pleasure.

Many times I’ll opt in to uncomfortable situations just for the sake of growth. Or love. Or some such noble reason.

But every now and again, I opt out.  Just for the sake of me.

Sometimes I’m shy. Sometimes I’m an introvert. Sometimes I’m moody. Always I’m me! *shimmies*

Posted on

Stream of Consciousness Sunday: Clearing.

Are you a people person? Do you feel energized or drained around people?

#SOCsundayI’m an introvert. This means I get energized (or re-energized) when I have alone time. Solitude. But this does not mean I’m not a people person, because I am. I’m a teacher and I love it. I’m a spiritual coach and I love that. I like hanging with friends when our schedules and locations coincide. But there comes a time when I get overloaded and it becomes too much.

When I can take a whole day to myself, I do. I spend the day alone exercising, reading, running errands, playing on the internet, basking in the sun, and catnapping. I call it self-care.

When I can’t take a day, I steal away as I can. Case in point. This week has been busy for me. I’ve had meetings and home visits and gatherings and just nonstop “with peopleness.” Today I reached my limit. The cacophony of noises, voices, music didn’t help matters. Although I was “on duty,” during a slow period, I was able to secret myself away in my car for about 20 minutes. It was all I needed to refresh and finish the rest of my shift in high spirits. Twenty minutes seems to be the magic number.

When I feel the overload of other people’s energy, I clear it in nature. I sit in the sun for about 20 minutes, or walk (or play) in thick green grass if any is around. I nap by the ocean or, favorite of all, sit in its salty waters. I like people just fine, but whenever I can, I also love to be with just me.


This was my 5 minute Stream of Consciousness Sunday post. It’s five minutes of your time and a brain dump. Want to try it? Here are the rules…

  • Set a timer and write for 5 minutes.
  • Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is writing in the raw.
  • Publish it somewhere. Anywhere. The back door to your blog if you want. But make it accessible.
  • Add the Stream of Consciousness Sunday badge to your post.
  • Link up your post below.
  • Visit your fellow bloggers and show some love.