The introvert. by Patresa Hartman

Today's late post is brought to you by:

Complete Mental Scattering...

which is brought to you by:

End of Semester.

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A long while ago, I read an article about introverted children. Specifically, children who are extroverts are energized by social interaction; children who are introverts are drained by it. The researchers' advice to parents of introverted children was to:

a) Understand the irritability their sons and daughters demonstrate after prolonged social interaction for what it is -- drained energy and a cry for solitude; and

b) Give them that solitude, because they need it in order to re-energize. They don't just want it; they need it in the same way our bodies need food and sleep.

When I read that article I felt an enormous sense of validation. I was an introverted child who came home from school and parties "talked out." I wasn't a mean, uncaring child, but when I was depleted, I became very irritable and could not hold a conversation without snapping and sneering. I hated that I snapped and sneered but couldn't stop myself from doing it. It was a frustrating dichotomy, and it was constant.

I am now an introverted adult with more or less the same issue. I call it my "social meter" and can feel when it expires. I still get irritable when it runs out and find conversation painful. The difference as an adult is that I understand where it comes from and can communicate what I need more constructively. The fact that I can communicate my need (not just want) for solitude means friends and family are more willing to give it to me. My relationships are healthier for it.

And so as I sit here on a Monday morning with an expired social meter, on the heels of weekend visits from two of my very closest friends and dinner parties with my family, I am thankful for a life full of people who love me even when I am a bear. My close friends forgive my quirks and crankiness; my family has endured a lifetime of expired social meters; and I married a man who has come to understand me enough not to take it personally when I can't speak.

Thank you, Good People.