Being Still

A pair of killdeer made a nest in my parents' driveway this spring. After they hatched, I paused  to take a picture from my car, and I noticed something about the baby birds.




















They were perfectly still.

So still, if I hadn't already known how many babies there were, I might have missed one. Maybe it's an odd thing to notice, but I'd been thinking about being still for a while already...

Time for some more honesty. My health has not been good for years, and that's putting it mildly. The last year has been especially rough. Lately I've felt a strong desire to know what is wrong, but that desire seems to be countered by multiple songs and scriptures constantly coming to mind that mention being still.

It got me thinking. Does my worry count as being still? No, it really doesn't.

Does God know what is wrong? Yes.

Is He still in control? Yes

So why should I worry?

Those baby birds were not looking around trying to see what was wrong. They had to have known that something wasn't right, yet they held completely still. That was how they were safe. Had I been a predator, keeping still and letting their parents handle the situation was their best assurance of safety.

If only it were easy for me to keep still and trust my Heavenly Father to handle my situation. It's not easy, but I have felt inspired to let my worry go. I'm not actively seeking diagnosis; I'm simply trying to rest in the promise that God knows, God cares, and He is taking care of everything. (See Psalm 46:10)

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Miss Oblivious

I have always thought of myself as a detail-oriented person. I come from a family of detail-oriented people, so I just assumed I was the same way. This probably comes as a surprise to most people who know me, because I have a reputation for being a bit spacey. It all hit me about a week ago, and I saw myself a little more accurately.

You know how they say that you can miss the forest for all the trees? I miss the trees for the forest.

I was almost literally nicknamed "Miss Oblivious" at the office I worked at a few years ago. They had very good reason for this name. I can't tell you how many times I would be talking to a co-worker in the break room, and they would ask me why I didn't wave back when they passed me on our way to or from work on the interstate. I simply did not see them. I pay attention to the road when I'm driving, and very little else...like other drivers' maniacal attempts to get my attention.

Probably the funniest example, and a story that my friends will not let me live down, happened one time in late spring. In Alabama, spring starts early in the year, and things become green fast. I did not have a window in my office, but the front doors in the lobby were all glass. One day in May, or maybe early June, I walked up to the front doors, looked outside, turned to the receptionist--who happened to be an old friend of mine--and exclaimed, "There's leaves on the trees!" Considering the fact that there had been leaves on the trees for a couple of months, it's understandable that my friend laughed herself silly before spreading the story throughout the office.

I also recently discovered that my mother does have a trash can in her laundry room. I've been carrying the lint from the dryer all the way to the kitchen trash because I couldn't find the can by the washer and dryer. Was it hidden? No. My brain simply failed to register what my eyes were seeing.

This isn't to say that I'm completely capable of detailed work. I'm actually pretty good with data entry, mathematics, and fine stitching like crochet and cross-stitch. but I think my mind wanders whenever I'm doing something repetitive. I suppose I am more of a big picture person. Details escape me for whatever reason, and I really don't know how to change that.

Does anyone else find themselves missing the trees for the forest? Any suggestions on how to train my mind to notice the details that it really needs to? I'd love to hear about it!

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Where's My Hamster?

I have a problem that most people, particularly mothers of young children, seem to suffer from. It's usually not too debilitating, but occasionally it makes every day activities next to impossible to perform.

Brain Fog.

It's not that it feels like my brain shuts down, it's more that it keeps moving, but it's not doing anything. "The wheel is spinning, but the hamster is clearly missing," or something to that effect. It really does feel like a fog, and I wander around the house aimlessly trying to figure out what I am supposed to be doing.

When it gets really bad, I can't even read. That's hard for a bookworm like myself to deal with. If you can't read, what can you do?

The other night it was even so bad I could barely do laundry. Almost like I was forgetting how to  fold clothes. This is not normal. At least, this extreme case is not normal.

What is normal is for me to lose my train of thought half-way through what I was saying. This is why I really try to rely on outlining when I write. Otherwise I just ramble and make very little sense. (I did outline this post; I hope it actually helps.)

It's very common for me, and has been for years, to forget a point I wanted to make in an online post after clicking the send button. I apologize to anyone if I miss a question when responding to comments. I promise I'm not doing it on purpose.

So, does anyone else find themselves suffering from this mental wandering? If so, what do you do to cope with it? I've figured out outlining for my writing, but what about other instances, like answering a list of questions, or attempting to do household chores?

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My Missing Filter

A question had been plaguing me. It's something I've noticed about myself, and something that is mentioned a lot when talking about introverts in general. Why do introverts need down-time?

Or maybe my question is why do extroverts not need down-time. 

I was thinking about it a lot the other day and came up with an hypothesis that I would love to run by some real-life extroverts. An extrovert should not be that hard to come by. Unfortunately, I come from a family of introverts, so it's more difficult than you would think.

I noticed that, personally, how soon I need my down-time correlates to how much is going on around me. In quieter settings, I can go all day, and be fine with a little down-time in the evening. In louder settings, I find myself escaping to a bathroom or outdoors throughout the day.

So it got me thinking. What if extroverts and introverts both have a "sensory data tank" that fills up with stuff they both have to process, but extroverts have a special filter that keeps irrelevant data from filling up the tank. Like background music. It distracts me horribly, but it seems not to bother the extroverts I'm around at all. What if they have a filter in their brain that tells them that it's not necessary to process that information? It would mean that their "sensory data tank" would fill up much slower, apparently to the extent that they can keep up with the input in real time.

It could explain why introverts--well, me specifically--will reach a point where they shut down. When the "sensory data tank" is full, escape becomes necessary so the data can be processed, or at least drained from the tank so it can receive more data. If escape is impossible, then I shut down emotionally and give monosyllabic responses to anyone attempting to draw me out of my shell of self-preservation.

If this filter does exist, I really wish I could develop one. It would be so handy. Three conversations going on at once? Just ignore all but the one you are actually participating in! Background music in a store? Don't have to pay attention to the lyrics, just enjoy the mood of the melody. My life needs this. Badly.

Do you think there's something here? I would really like to hear from extroverts as well as my fellow introverts on this. Do you think that it's a skill that can be developed? Let me know!


Want to read more about my introverted misadventures?
Check out these posts:

I Hugged a Stranger
Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
Talking To Myself

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Ideal Cynicism

I have a personality type that has been described as being both idealistic and cynical. When I first read this, I was in a bit of shock at having someone actually understand part of how my brain works. In the past I had considered these two traits to be mutually exclusive, and had been anticipating my brain imploding due to its inner conflict.

For a long time, part of my Facebook profile read: The optimist sees the glass as half full. The pessimist sees the glass as half empty. The realist measures the amount of water. The idealist measures the capacity of the glass. The cynic looks at it and says it's probably poisoned.

Using this as an example, you can see that I do not view pessimism and cynicism as the same thing. Nor are idealism and cynicism actually mutually exclusive. In fact, according to this example, you could have an optimistic cynic that sees the glass as half-full of delightful poison.

Another way I have explained the differences is as follows:

The optimist says, "Things are wonderful!"

The pessimist says, "No, things are awful."

The idealist says, "Things could be wonderful."

The realist says, "But (set criteria) would have to happen first."

The cynic says, "And you wouldn't like it even if it did."

Yes, there's our wonderful little cynic, ruining everything. Perhaps not all cynics have my sarcastic sense of humor, but I think that is more likely that they do. My cynical side says delightful little things like, "Life is hard, and then you die."

Then I laugh, because I only half mean that statement, because life isn't as awful as my cynical side would have you to believe. Occasionally, life is really wonderful, and my idealistic side gloats while the cynic mutters in a dark corner.

I want to change the world for the better, and at the same time I believe it is impossible to do so. For some reason, though, the cynical side never gains too much control. Otherwise I would simply become a hermit and let the world do what it wants so long as it leaves me alone. I can't make myself do that.

At the end of the day, I will smile at a stranger, try to encourage a friend, do some small thing that makes the world around me a better place. I have an intense desire that the world be better off because I was born, and the cynical side of me can't squash it. I'm not even sure it wants to. Truthfully, my idealism and cynicism balance each other out, the one keeps me trying while the other keeps me from being too disappointed when things don't turn out the way I dreamed.

I wouldn't recommend cynicism by itself to anyone. That would send even the best of us spiraling into a vortex of dark thoughts and depression. But paired with a healthy dose of idealism, it's not so bad.

Talking To Myself

I have a confession to make. I have a habit that developed in childhood that seems to have only gotten worse as I age. Sweetie finally said something about it last week, and called it creepy. I've tried to stop, really I have. It really seems impossible. I know I'm not the only one that does this, but...

I talk to myself.

A lot.

I think this behavior falls into one of three categories. Either I'm thinking out loud, running through scenes for stories out loud, or I'm practicing conversations for the future.

I'm pretty sure that most people at some point in their lives have spoken their thoughts aloud. There's benefits to hearing something spoken. It can sound just fine in your head, but once it actually hits your ears, you realize how stupid it is. These are cases when talking aloud by yourself is a huge benefit. No one else needs to know that you were contemplating writing a musical about dancing flamingos in spandex pantsuits.

I've had the story I worked on for NaNo developing in my head for about four years now. There are four different stories within the story arc. That's a lot of scenes and quite a few characters. But I have other stories with other characters, too. That's a lot of people crowding up my thinking, and sometimes I just need an outlet. So, I talk to them; they talk back. It's fine until someone overhears you. I may need to put a Bluetooth headset in my ear permanently for when this happens in public.

That would actually help with the last one, too. I practice conversations before they happen. Maybe it's part of my introversion. Maybe it's unrelated social anxiety, but there are times when I feel more prepared for dealing with someone if I have practiced the conversation a few times to get a feel for how it is likely to go. Sometimes I know the conversation is inevitable, other times I'm practicing an unlikely-to-occur event for the fun of it--I've actually used those once or twice.

But then you get caught. I have been caught. It's embarrassing. Even though I'm not doing a single thing wrong, just a little weird. Should it really be called creepy, though. If I'm mumbling about killing someone, ok, yes. But simply complaining aloud about a talking cat that is too smug for his whiskers? That's not creepy…at least I hope it's not.

I am sincerely trying to at least be more aware of what I'm doing when I talk to myself. I've become hyper aware of just how much I do it. But I don't really want to quit because, let's face it, it's fun.


Want to read more about my introverted misadventures?
Check out these posts:

I Hugged a Stranger
Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
Shhhh...I'm Introverting

Shhhh... I'm Introverting

I'm an introvert. There is no denying it. Some people are somewhere between extrovert and introvert--I believe it is called ambiversion, but I am firmly on the side of introversion. I come from a family of introverts, so it's sometimes hard for me to remember that other people do not function the same way I do.

Rather than explain what introversion is, I want to tell you what it means to me personally. You can find all kinds of information on introversion, what it is, and how introverts behave on average. That's not what I want to do today.

I don't dislike people. I do dislike crowds. They make me nervous.

I don't actually dislike interacting with other people, even strangers. Today, I purposely went inside the bank and Starbucks rather than the drive thru. I even avoided self check-out at Walmart. It is possible that I prefer face-to-face interaction when I know dealing with other people is unavoidable. I have fewer screw-ups going inside than using the drive thru. But I can guarantee that none of these people knew I was an introvert. I'm as friendly as you could wish. I even smile.

Unfortunately, if I am forced to be constantly in the company of other people--even people I like--for days on end, I'm going to start feeling claustrophobic. If I spend a weekend at social events, come Monday, I need another weekend to recover from my weekend.

Even at parties that I'm enjoying I will be very aware of the exits, possible retreats from all the noise (a bathroom or hallway), and what time I am planning to leave. It's nothing against my host or my friends. I just can't handle extended periods of high noise levels well.

Small talk bores me. Almost nothing annoyed me more as a teenager than to be asked how I was doing by someone that I knew perfectly well did not want an honest answer. This was especially true if I didn't think it was any of their business. I nearly insulted a dear friend when I complained about it, and he pointed out that he did care, and it was his business since he was my friend. I'm glad he called me out on it, but if he had not been a true friend, I would not have agreed with his sentiment.

If at all possible, text me. If a phone call is warranted, I would love dearly to have a text as a warning first, but I know that's not going to happen. Phone calls give me anxiety like you would not believe, unless you suffer from it yourself. Even making phone calls is difficult, which is why my sister and grandmother occasionally complain that they don't hear from me often enough. I love talking to my friends, but I hate phones. Phones are evil.

So...comment, text me, tweet me, email me, message me, post on my Facebook wall, but for the love of biscuits and gravy, don't call me about this blog post!

Want to read more about my introverted misadventures?
Check out these posts:

I Hugged a Stranger
Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
Talking To Myself

Yes or No? Purple Bananas!

Have you ever met someone that could not give a straight answer to a yes or no question? If you were to ask me that exact question, I would likely make a comment on a seemingly unrelated topic instead of actually answering the question. You would either infer my answer from my ramblings or give up in frustration.

My mother recently pointed this trait of mine out to me. If you asked me if I want steak for dinner, I might respond that I had sweet potatoes for dinner the night before. If you asked me if I like the shirt you're holding up in a store, I would likely make a comment about what color dominates my closet. I am apparently completely incapable of answering a yes or no question with a simple "yes" or "no." The closest I come is, "I don't know."

Since it was pointed out, I've started noticing this trait for myself…usually after the fact. I have to laugh at myself, really. It should not be that hard, yet for some reason for me it is. A few times I've caught myself beforehand, or even during my answer, and try to simply answer with "yes" or "no." I can barely manage to do it. It's liked brain resists anything that appears too simple.

Since becoming aware of it, I have noticed a pattern in my responses to these kinda of questions. I tend to attempt to give the person asking the information they would need to come up with my answer themselves. Unfortunately, my mind will take things off on a tangent, and that somehow does not get translated when I attempt communicating verbally. In my mind, sweet potatoes are related to steak; I almost always order them together at a restaurant. However, unless you already knew this, you would need more information to understand what I was trying to say.

Or it's possible that I'm trying to be too honest. I refuse to commit to something if I cannot account for extenuating circumstances. I know people are understanding when something comes up that you have no control over, but the fact that this is a remote possibility somehow keeps me from simply saying "yes."

I'm going to have to address this issue when my children are old enough to ask me questions. I doubt I'll have a problem saying, "No," when my child asks for a candy bar at the check-out line, but what about other questions? Now that I am aware of it, I know I need wisdom to learn to deal with this in a way that will not frustrate my children every time they ask me a question. 

Does anyone else have this problem? Or do you find yourself identifying with it? How do you make yourself answer simply when your brain is demanding complexity?