Showing posts with label Introversion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Introversion. Show all posts

Tuesday 11 February 2014

Sefish Bogan?

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I  was sitting here in blissful, wonderful silence this morning reading this post  by the wonderful Emily at Have A Laugh On Me and her questions got me to thinking. Yes, that’s what that  burning smell is. I do  occasionally think about  other  things beside cake or Karen Carpenter. See? I waited until the third sentence to mention them! Hmph. 
I love quiet time. I guess it goes with the territory of being quiet, shy, introverted and an Aspie.  Yep, I certainly hit the jackpot there with all those marvellous traits. Apparently, I don't know how to spell marvellous anymore as it has just appeared with one of those annoying squiggly red lines under it. Or spell, period. Isn't that just MARVELLOUS? Or however the fuck you spell it. HMPH.


I also have to confess that sometimes this fervent love of solitude makes me feel like I may be a tad selfish and self-absorbed at times. Which is just plain silly, right? This is a theory that I've actually had suggested to me: that quiet people are selfish. At the time I remember thinking that this was utter bullshit but of course I didn't say anything. After all, I'm quiet (or selfish depending on your point of view) so I kept my 'what a load of bullshit' thought to myself.



The irony was that this occurred in a group I attended to do with confidence building.  Oddly enough being told that you're considered selfish didn't do a great deal to boost my confidence. Funny about that.


Another funny thing is that I before I had children I kind of knew this about myself - that I had an extreme need for quiet time and solitude and that this would probably be my biggest challenge with having children. In spite of this, I still plunged ahead and had three of these delightful creatures, proving that in addition to being selfish I am also a masochist. On the plus side, it's nice to have yourself figured out at this advanced age. Meaning, the wrong side of forty. I’m a selfish, self-absorbed masochist. Nice.



Which brings me to Emily’s question  about volunteering for the school tuck shop, P & C or as a parent helper. As a stay at home mum who doesn’t do any of these things am I being selfish? Even though I feel  like I have  valid reasons, are those reasons selfish or wrong?




Reasons:





I don’t have good people skills:  People are scary. You have to talk to them and make eye contact, which are two things I am simply not stellar at. Should I force myself to do so in spite of this?





I have helped in the canteen at the boys soccer grounds. Once. Shut up. This involved a hatrick of skills I do not  possess. Talking to and serving people,  remembering orders and adding up the money. I was a nervous wreck at the end of an hour and have never wished to repeat the experience.





I struggle with just helping my boys with their homework. This is something I’m not proud of, but there it is. It’s quite humiliating to not understand primary school homework, so  perhaps I do need to  return to school. However, not as a parent helper, but as a student, so I can learn basic grammar (this blog could certainly benefit from it) and maths all over again and how to spell words like marvellous. Plus, I’m sure I’d still look quite cute in a uniform and pig tails. No?


Previously, I took Mr 5 to a Play Group where the interactions between parents sometimes became slightly political while I  tried to remain like Switzerland – neutral – and not get  involved. For this reason I prefer to avoid P&C committees with the same sleuth like elusiveness I employ in avoiding the I Quit Sugar craze. In fact, that is where you would find me at Play Group. In the corner where the morning tea cakies were, shoving them in my gob to avoid talking and, you know, just because I’m addicted to cake. Ahem.  If  P&C meetings involved cake of any description, I’d be a candidate for The Biggest Loser before the year is through.


I did volunteer to help in the library at the boys  previous school. I figured that I do have a Library Practice Diploma (even though it's more than twenty years old - details) and experience working in specialist libraries ( a long time ago, but again- details). I was given a stack of books to take home and cover. I didn't mind doing this. Where other people might find it tedious and prefer social contact, I'd rather work with books than people. I'm weird. So perhaps I could try that again and play to my strengths.


Now I’m back to my original point about LOVING quiet time. I as I stated, it does seem somewhat selfish but the truth is that I desperately, desperately need to have time to myself or, to be completely blunt and honest, I feel that my mental health starts to suffer.  In order to function as a mother of three boys and keep on top of everything that goes with the territory I need time to recharge. I also need to do physical exercise and break a sweat every day. I know everyone needs this, but as a person who has challenges with anxiety requiring medication I need this like I need air. It does seem selfish and a tad self-absorbed at times but it’s the truth.


 And that little myth about having more time once the kids are all at school? That’s what it is: a myth. Sorry to burst that bubble if your kidlets are not at school yet. I personally find that school brings with it much more stuff to organise and remember and also constant socialising in the form of school fetes, assemblies and the inevitable birthday party invitations that arrive. These are things I need to pace myself with. As someone on the spectrum, I have different challenges than other Mum’s who perhaps can handle the whole multi-tasking, socialising, P&C committee attending, soccer Mum thing with greater ease than me.





And ultimately, as I read in the book Power Over Panic by Bronwyn Fox, my mental health  has to be more important than what someone might think of me. This is now my mantra.





Do you need quiet time to cope with the demands of parenting?  How do you recharge? Or do you think I’m selfish?




Sunday 8 April 2012

Quiet Discomfort

I am, of course, famous for being quiet, introspective and deep.(ie an off with the pixies, space cadet who can't think of a single original thing to say) which means that I do not find myself making faux pas. In fact my biggest faux pas seems to be the fact that I AM so quiet. It seems to bother people tremendously.  This has led to the following situations and observations.

When an outgoing, talkative person leaves a job, their co-workers are genuinely regretful to see them go, not only because of their work contribution, but also because of their wit, conversation skills and general friendliness.  People descend on them with loud exclamations of "Sorry to see you go!" and promises to keep in touch and meet for coffee.  There are lots of 'in' jokes on the farewell card about all the crazy times at staff and Christmas Parties.

This is in stark contrast to a shy, quiet person, (ie. me). When you leave a job (assuming you can get one in the first place) people make such heartwarming comments like:

"Oh well, we'll miss your work, but not you - you're too quiet."

When the farewell card goes around the office, everyone politely signs it, all the while wondering:
 "Who is she?"

Other stuff that has happened:

People routinely talk about me as if I'm not there.

People who would never dream of telling an overly loud chatterbox to just shut the hell up, think nothing of telling me that I SHOULD NOT be so quiet. That I MUST come out of my shell.

Frequent jibes heard are:

"It's always the quiet ones you gotta watch."

 As if being quiet means I am some sort of weird psychopath waiting to happen, who could potentially snap at any given moment. Well, just so you know, I personally keep my collection of sawn off shot guns right in between my collection of Carpenters cds and Lucy Maud Montgomery novels. NOT.

"Stuck up bitch!"

I heard this a lot growing up

 Me? Stuck up? I live in Boganville for christ sakes.  Me? A bitch? I honestly wish I could be one.  Even just for a day, just to see what it feels like.

"You're the quietest person I've ever met/known." 

 Hmph.  Don't they know any dead people.

Other stuff that occurs to me:


People whom I've met several times and by now could reasonably expect they might remember me, look at me bewildered, frantically searching their memory banks and coming up with...nothing...as they have forgotten my name.

I spent decades of my life being nice, polite, sweet and giving to other people who wouldn't even like me if I gave them a Ferrari, only to be informed during a so-called Confidence Building group thingy, that quiet, shy people are selfish and self-absorbed. This didn't particularly build my confidence, come to think of it.

In a recent social situation I was my usual quiet, unassuming self. Meanwhile, a group of young women were chatting away incessantly. The bulk of the conservation seemed to involve bitching about other friends and acquaintances who were not there. At times the comments were not only bitchy but downright racist. I said nothing. Maybe I should have. Nobody else said anything. Then, in amongst all this racist bitchiness, somebody turned to me and exclaimed loudly :

"You're the quietest person I've ever known! You're never gonna change, are you?" Hearty chuckles. How am I supposed to respond to such statements? I have no idea, but I probably gave her look that would freeze hell over.

Apparently being bitchy and racist is far more socially acceptable than being quiet. I don't get it. I never will. Sigh.

Selective mutism is, of course, part of having Asperger's Syndrome. I was just lucky enough to score a genetic hatrick of traits. I'm introverted, shy, quiet AND an Aspie, so therefore, is it any wonder I am so quiet? Maybe I should wear a sign on my chest or something informing people of all of the above, so they won't make a federal issue of it.

Ultimately, the older I get the less I care about what random people think of me. Hallejah! About time. Occasionally, I frustrate the fuck out of Micky Blue Eyes with my silence. I DO care about that. I don't know how he puts up with me, sometimes. But then again, I don't know how I put up with him either. Interesting. Apparently we like putting up with each other.

Okay, I think I'm done.  Back to what I do best.  Shutting up.  Try it some time people.

Linking up with Kirsty from  My Home Truths for I Must Confess.


Are you a talker? Too quiet? Or just right? What's so wrong with being quiet, anyway? Any thoughts?

I Vant To Be Alone

It is Easter Sunday and I now have alone time.  Mick has taken the boys to a soccer match. The house is echoing with blissful silence.  I can even hear a bird cooing along with the wind chimes outside the door. No deafening roar of a PlayStation, combined with the television blasing. No cries of "Muum, can you get me a cup of tea?" vying with "He started it!" to be heard.

 Consequently, I cannot think of single interesting thing to write about.  So I expect this blog entry will be boring as batshit.  Just like all the others then, I guess. Oh well.

Whenever I have absolutely no hope in hell of getting near the computer, then, no doubt I would be bursting forth with all sorts of brilliantly witty insights and revelations (ie. full of shit). Today, I've got nothing.  But since nobobdy is reading this anyway I guess it doesn't matter.

So, now that I have alone time, here is a list of things I could do:

  • Exercise (I do need the endorphins.  No point worrying about burning calories.  I could jog to Melbourne and back and I still wouldn't have burned off the calories I've eaten in chocolate.)
  • Blast Carpenters REALLY LOUD.
  • Write
  • Eat more chocolate
  • Do 20 truck loads of washing up (hmm might actually be forced to, if I fancy a cup of tea later)
  • Read a book
  • Put away 20 truck loads of laundry
  • Eat more chocolate
  • Clear away/tidy
  • Clean the bathroom
  • Stare into space vacantly
  • Eat more chocolate
  • Have a bubble bath
  • Call a friend
  • Text a friend
  • Ironing ( yeah right)
  • Watch tv
  • Watch a girly movie
  • Eat more chocolate
Right. So far, have managed to read a book, eat more chocolate, stare into space vacantly, eat more chocolate, blast Carpenters, eat more chocolate ,write this boring as batshit blog and eat more chocolate.  Comforting when you can tick stuff off your to-do list isn't it?

On a day when most people would unite with their extended families for a big get together or bbq, I am quite content being alone. I have chocolate. Books. Carpenters. Computer.  Ahhh, heaven.

I guess it seems like I don't really love my kids when I crave alone time so much.  But I really do love them.  I just really love them to go out with Mick and leave me alone sometimes too.  This gives me time to ponder on things like the deep and intellectual thinker I am.  Like my reflections on being so quiet and introverted.  Coming soon.