More than meets the eye

For the past couple of months, we've not been able to use the left side of our double kitchen sink due to a leak in the drain. Hubby put a container under the sink to catch the drips from when someone "forgot" and used that side of the sink, but he finally got fed up ... and called a plumber. He happened to mention that the remaining drain seemed sluggish, so the guy agreed to take a look at that too, while he was here.

He arrived early this morning. A few minutes later, the offending pipe crumbled in his hands from being rusted through. A replacement pipe, wow. Things could be worse.

The problem with the other side of the sink, though - the side of the sink we were still able to use - was more involved than just using an auger to clean out the sink trap, or replacing a piece of pipe. No - it went way deeper. All of the drain pipes were up to 50% coated on the inside with the sludge of decades of use, people washing dishes, draining off the fat from meat, etc. Down the drain all that stuff would go, and .. out of sight, out of mind. 

Until now. 

Photo "Rusty Water Tap" by
franky242 at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Since I was home today, I got to see (and hear) them at work. It was a rather long and involved process ... and I couldn't help but think of the parallels between our plumbing problem and the situation many of us face when we've been trying to look after everyone else's crud for so many years. We pride ourselves on our ability to deal, even tell ourselves that we're doing what's right ... and then we wonder why we're sluggish, why we're sometimes barely able to function. 

So we ask for help and we think, yeah, this is an easy fix. Until it isn't. 

We end up having to replace some stuff in our lives with other, more functional stuff. That part is fine. But it's when we start digging a little deeper that we find that there's ever so much sludge we've allowed to accumulate. Things like making allowances for other people's mistakes, covering for them, not letting them experience the consequences of their own actions, and so forth. Learning to accept that these tendencies are there is hard - but it's a necessary step in being able to be willing to open ourselves to change. And, the malady goes so deep - it's so much a part of how we define ourselves - that the only way to handle it is to ream all that goo out of our psyches where it's had a chance to congeal and harden ... which takes time. 

It's inconvenient. It's painful, even. We have to put considerable investment into it. But getting help from someone who knows how to navigate those things means that it will take less time with fewer mistakes than if we tried doing it by ourselves. That's worth the inconvenience. 

And having that stuff removed from our lives makes the pain worth while as well. It's just the process that is the hard part. So we knuckle down, pay the price, and let it happen. 

The frustrating thing about inner healing, or growth, or recovery - whatever you want to call it - is that those looking on from the sidelines can't see any of the things we go through to get from A to B. All they see (if they are perceptive enough) are the results - the new attitudes we develop, the relationships that we begin (and end), and the things we say yes (and no) to, for example. This is a journey that is more than what it appears. There is more to it than what meets the eye. There are deeper issues. There is much that is unseen and that may never be seen. 

However, when we enter the process (and truth be told, many times we might not have undertaken the process if we'd known how much was involved), and when we are open and honest with ourselves, it's almost as though the changes happen without us even being aware of most of them. We just suddenly find ourselves doing something that we never would have dreamed of doing before ... and ask ourselves where that came from!  

Yes, there's more to it than meets the eye, but on the whole, it's worth the trouble. And someday, maybe even today, we'll even be grateful that the old pipe sprang a leak in the first place.

Direction ... Not Destination

“It becomes easier for me to accept myself as a decidedly imperfect person, who by no means functions at all times in the way in which I would like to function. This must seem to some like a very strange direction in which to move. It seems to me to have value because the curious paradox is that when I accept myself as I am, then I change.”
- - Carl Rogers, On Becoming a Person: A Therapist's View of Psychotherapy

About a month ago, I sat across from someone who really listened to me and heard my concerns. He wasn't a therapist, and quite frankly, to listen to his career accomplishments, I would have considered him to be unapproachable under normal circumstances (at least, what normal was for most of my life). However, I had heard him open his heart and share his passion with people... and I knew instinctively that he could be trusted.  So I poured out my heart to him. And he listened. And he cared. 

In doing what I did, I admitted to myself that I was not happy with the current state of affairs and that I wanted something to change. I also admitted to myself that I didn't have the power to change anything about my circumstances, but I could talk to someone who did. 

And you know, it happened. When I heard what had been done to fix things, it was like someone removed a 70-pound pack from my back, one that I'd been carrying around for a year. The relief was so great and so tangible that I welled up and spilled over in tears for a few minutes. And then I contacted the man who had listened - and I thanked him. It was all I could think to do. And it was as natural to do that as to take my next breath. 

I write all that because ... because seven years ago, I never would have been able to reach out like that and ask for help. I would have suffered - perhaps not in silence, but in helplessness and misery - and today I realize that the person I was then was me, and the person I am now is still me ... only better, healthier. And the catalyst for change was nothing other than accepting the me that I was then the WAY I was then - and learning to like that person. (By the way,  I had help.)

Photo "Woman Relaxing With Her Eyes Closed"
courtesy of photostock at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Without realizing it, my behavior and my attitudes about things (not necessarily in that order) began to change. The change was automatic. I didn't have to work at it, except to realize and be aware of my behavior patterns. There were a lot of uncompleted sentences and one-eighties in the beginning as I learned a new way to be. I was becoming a better me. And I still am.

As you can tell from the above quote, I love to read things that Carl Rogers (father of modern psychotherapy) said or wrote. (I even listened to part of one of his taped sessions once. It was amazing.) He also said something else about personal growth. He said that it wasn't a destination ... that it was a direction. A process, not a product. That is my experience. Some of that experience was pretty intense - it involved doing things that were hard - but I tackled them when and as I was ready for them, and not before ... and I still do. 

But the weird thing about it all is that without that core of acceptance of who and what I am at the moment, none of the changes I've experienced (and am experiencing) would have been possible or would be possible. It is, as Rogers said, a "curious paradox." 

I can't explain how it works. It just does. Slow but sure, millimeter by millimeter.
And I'm okay with that.

A Breath of Kindness

It's been a week of lasts. And it's been a week of firsts. 

This was the week that the last of the insurance money I was hoping for, came to me in the form of a check for the value of my youngest daughter's car before the crash.

This was the last week that I had to dread another car payment coming off my bank for that same car that I had co-bought with her (she in one province, I in another) ... a car in which she was killed a month and a day later. Every time that I had to record that amount in my check register, another piece of me died. Now, nearly 18 months after her death and some 35 payments later, the insurance company sent me a check to pay her loan in full. 

This was the last week that I had to pretend that it didn't happen, that she was somehow still with me, tied to me by that payment every two weeks. 

That is hard. And it's also a relief, which brings me to the firsts.

This week, for the first (and hopefully the last) time, and at the suggestion of my financial consultant at my bank, I ended up having an appointment with a bank employee from a different bank who specialized in estates. She heard me, expressed her condolences, and walked me through the process of paying out that loan. 

"I want to make this as painless as possible for you," she said. Her eyes said what her professionalism could not - "I know how I would feel if I lost my daughter." 

For the first time, I was grateful for this poky little Island with its rural mentality. It had always niggled at me a little bit that everyone has to know each other's business and heritage here. I'm a private person, and that kind of interest in family bloodlines seems ... almost incestuous somehow. But ... this woman across the desk from me remembered me from 30 years ago, remembered my name and remembered that we lived in the country, "down east" as she called it - referring to the east end of the Island and the part that (on the map) looks like it's on Island's underbelly. She was a bank employee back then too, working for a different bank, where we just happened to have our mortgage. And now I just happened to be sitting across from her, thirty years later. 

2009 Hyundai Accent

I don't believe in coincidences. I had prayed, before I left to go to my appointment, for God to go before me and to make the rough places smooth. I believe that He had been working ahead of time (even 30 years in advance!), knowing I would pray that exact prayer at that moment, so He did go before me, much more than I had even meant when I prayed. Thirty years more.

The bank employee even put a rush on the request and stopped payment on another auto-debit that was to come off next week, the day before the payment request was auto-initiated by their computer. (I just happened to mention to her that the next payment was due to come off next week so should I be concerned about it? A flurry of activity from her and it was taken care of. Just. Like. That.) 

She told me that the loan was thus-and-such amount of money, which meant that there would be some money left over after it was paid. And she made it possible for me to be paid the balance left over. In cash. WITHOUT filling out reams of paperwork and WITHIN the rules of the bank itself. I remember standing at the wicket, with her walking another bank employee - a teller - through the screens to process the transaction, watching as the teller counted out the money on the wicket counter and handed it to me - plus the loose change in my other hand. I had the sensation that this was happening to someone else and that I was just watching it unfold ... a curious sensation.

It wasn't the paying off of the loan or the payback of the remaining money that touched my heart, though. It was this lady's willingness to go the extra mile to prevent what could have easily been the beginning of an ordeal for me. 

But it wasn't. It was the beginning of a new chapter in my life instead. 

I kept remembering what my daughter had said to me the day I arranged the loan with the car dealership, and her sitting across from the dealer almost all the way across the country from me. She'd been homeless for a couple of days and she was highly motivated to get a job and "make something of herself" - (she was ALREADY "something", but she had to prove it to herself, I guess.) Anyway, she was on the phone with me and she said to me, "I'll pay you back someday, Mom. I swear." And she meant it.

Well. I guess, for the first time honey, you paid me back. I just wish it wasn't this way.

And besides ... you gave me so very much just by being you, taught me so much about life by the way you lived yours. And that can't be measured in dollars and cents. 

It just can't.

Empathic Listening

It was over 25 years ago and I was a new mother. I'd been given all kinds of misinformation about nursing my baby - from all kinds of sources - and I was really, really sore as a result. At my husband's suggestion, I called a local La Leche League Canada leader. The lady on the other end of the phone listened to my predicament for a good five minutes without saying a word. And I'll never forget what the first word out of her mouth was (said with the kind of feeling that said "I've experienced this and I KNOW it's not fun in the least..."). The word was, "OUCH!"

The empathy in the tone of that one word was exactly what I needed. She went on to give me basic information that fixed the problem in minutes and allowed me to heal within a week.

What I liked most about our conversation was that she didn't come off all superior, she didn't preach at me, she didn't overreact, she didn't jump down my throat, and she didn't try to "convert" me. She just listened and she knew how to show that she was there to help - without making me feel like I was beholden to her. And oh yes, she left the choice up to me without insisting or belittling me, or saying that she was going to check up on me later.

All of those things that she didn't do? I've had them done to me.

Yeah, and by people who should probably know better. Or who have forgotten that people are people, not numbers or statistics.

Photo "Psychiatrist Examining A Male
Patient" by Ambro at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Empathy, as described by Carl Rogers (the father of modern psychotherapy), looks more like a quest to understand what it is like to BE the other person rather than an effort to appear knowledgeable about the problem. In this quest, (these are his own words, below):

... the therapist senses accurately the feelings and personal meanings that the client is experiencing and communicates this understanding to the client. When functioning best, the therapist is so much inside the private world of the other that he or she can clarify not only the meanings of which the client is aware but even those just below the level of awareness. This kind of sensitive, active listening is exceedingly rare in our lives. We think we listen, but very rarely do we listen with real understanding, true empathy. Yet listening, of this very special kind, is one of the most potent forces for change that I know. 

I feel blessed to have had the privilege of seeing a therapist who actually could sense what it was like to be me, to feel my feelings as if they were his own. It was a remarkably freeing experience, one I've never forgotten, and one I want to emulate if I ever get to be a counselor. There was no judgment, no "you should...." (which usually means "You should be more like me...") ... and I must say that being listened to for what felt like the first time in my life was a remarkable step toward wholeness. It gave me permission to find out who I really was, to get to know me, and to learn to like me.

That was huge. And I really hope that someday I can provide that atmosphere of trust for someone else who needs to follow that same path to self-discovery.

Same same

There is a [word-] sign used by the local deaf community that means "Same" - it looks like the ASL sign for the letter Y - as shown - but the hand is not raised up but facing the floor (in other words, palm side down). The hand goes back and forth horizontally a couple of times between the two items or people being compared, as if sliding back and forth on an unseen table. If the deaf person talks when he or she signs, the words that come out are "Same-same." 
The idea usually is that the thumb and pinky point toward what or who is involved in that comparison. 

That doesn't mean that differences don't exist. It just means that at some level, there is something essentially the same about those two things or people. 

Illustration "Sign Language And The
Alphabet,the Letter Y" by
taesmileland at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

And that sign can be a complete sentence when the second component is added - facial expression. Take for example the comparison between two people. I've seen my deaf friends sign "same-same" over the years with amazement, sympathy, sarcasm, boredom, delight, disgust, and a whole host of other reactions that convey tone of voice - something that (as yet) the printed word cannot do very well. 

I was thinking about this sign a couple of days ago and it came to me that no matter how same-same people think they are, there is always something that is different. And not just different, VASTLY different - just like the pinky and the thumb point in nearly opposite directions. 

And no matter how different people are, there is always something that is the same between them, just as the pinky and the thumb are part of the same hand and signifying (in their differences) that they are same-same. Basic feelings are the same regardless of gender, gender identity or socioeconomic class; the colour of the blood is identical regardless of the colour of the skin. 

I might feel uncomfortable around someone because of our differences, but looking for common ground helps me to accept that person and acknowledge his or her right to take up space. And ... (this is a more subtle but just as important a distinction) just because I might share an identity label (same workplace, same church, same family relationships for example) with someone else, it doesn't give me the right to assume that this person thinks or believes or has the same values as I do. 

Or that the person can automatically be trusted because of that one similarity. 

Or that someone of another group is automatically untrustworthy because of the differences between us. 

"Peoples is peoples," a wise man once said. (Pete from Pete's Diner in Jim Henson's "The Muppets Take Manhattan", haha). More and more, I'm coming to live my life on that simple principle. Each person is capable of both good and evil. 

My quest in recovery from the chains of my own limitations is to find the people in my life that I can trust, the ones who help me be truly me (without trying to make me exactly the same as they are in every respect), and then surround myself with them. And to discover those - while I might care about them - who are toxic to me, who try to manipulate or control me ... and to distance myself from them. To make sure that the "sameness" between my circle of friends and myself is concentrated in the things that matter most to me, and to let go of the differences that would tear me down and hinder my growth.

It's a tall order, but no other human being has the right to do it for me.

How to make bad things worse

"I see you're looking better than you were a couple of days ago. I wanted to stop by and tell you."

You should have stopped there.

I should have let you stop there. I was vulnerable and needed to talk to someone I trusted, not this perfect stranger to me. In the whole time I've known you, we've only had one conversation - a year ago.

"Thanks. I was struggling earlier this week, things have really been stressful. Thinking I'd be much better off if I just wasn't here."

Bad choice of words - she will think you mean something more than what you're saying. What I'm thinking of is stress leave, not "checking out." Oh what's the difference anyway. I just want her to go away. I wish she would just go away. I'm tired, I want to go home and get out of this awful place.

[condensed version of the repeated 10-minute tirade that followed] "Oh my God, Judy. You need help. You need to get help right now. I mean, call your doctor first thing Monday morning. I'm serious, get him to prescribe some antidepressants. I mean it! and I'm checking up on you on Monday to see if you've called him." 

Back-pedal. Let her know that is really not what you meant. AT ALL. 

Photo "Portrait of
Pointing Male" by
imagerymajestic at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

"Look, I would never commit suicide. Really. But I understand how some people can think that way."

Oops, I recognize that look. Oh crap, she's getting on her white horse and going to save the day. No-o, that's that LAST thing I want. All I want to do is get away from here, to go home, for her to shut up and leave me alone.

"No, that's way too close to the line. You've GOT to get some help. Talk to a therapist, are you seeing someone? you have to see someone." 

Oh great, now she's ordering me around!!! Why doesn't she just go away? Can't she see how stressed out she's making me? How can I get out of this? Maybe a little humour?

[By this time my head is in my hands as she rants on and on about how she was depressed and how she got help and that I need to do the same.] 

"So," I joke, "if I kill myself, THEN will you leave me alone?" 

This attempt at humour only adds fuel to the fire. Her reaction only shows how little she knows me. More and more she convinces herself that I'm in imminent danger and that she has to "save" me. Will she NEVER shut up?? 

[Finally I decide to be straight with her because beating around the bush isn't helping! I hate confrontation, but she's backing me into a corner. And when I am backed into a corner, I go on the offensive.] My voice raises; it is clipped and stern. "Listen. You are treating me like I'm two years old, like you have to be my savior or something. It's making me very uncomfortable, and I want you to stop this, and leave me alone."

She doesn't leave me alone. She goes on the defensive for a while, then turns around and attacks again, same pushy attitude, same ordering me around, same heavy-handed control stuff as before.

And she promises (sounds like she threatens) to check in with me on Monday. Which makes me not want to go there on Monday. Or any other day, if she was going to be there in my face all the time.  As a matter of fact, I hadn't started to consider suicide - even in jest (and it WAS only in jest) - until she started ranting about it. And now I was fantasizing about how many ways I could force her to shut her mouth!

You see ... how much better it might have been for her to say, "You look better today, you looked ill earlier in the week." and for me to say, "Thanks, I do feel a bit better," (which I DID until she started jumping down my throat) and left it at that. But no-o. My guard was down - I was tired - and discouraged - and vulnerable.

And what she actually said to me had the exact opposite effect than the one she wanted. Instead of giving me someone to talk to, she made me not want to talk to her about anything, because she'd only try to control my life and my thinking. Instead of making me feel like I was supported, she made me feel like I was being attacked, assaulted, and harassed. Instead of me knowing that I was cared for, I ended up feeling like now I was going to be her "special little project" and that I'd never be out from under her microscope. 

She may indeed have "meant well"... but her attitude and her actions were way over the top, and more of a hindrance to any help I might have been considering. I felt like someone who complained of a sniffle, suddenly being forced to go to the hospital and hooked up to an IV and a respirator.

Overkill. There's a reason they call it that. It's what makes bad things way worse. 

A Rainbow Day

I forget who said it, but I've heard that whenever there's a day with a bunch of sad stuff mixed in with a bunch of happy stuff, you're having a "rainbow day." Like when it's been raining really hard and it lets up a bit and the sun peeks out from behind a storm cloud ... and it makes a rainbow. 

Today is like that. 

Yesterday I had to make arrangements to help a dear friend of mine say goodbye to her beloved cat. It's a wrenching time, losing a family member you've loved for years, but we all knew it was time. And this morning I awoke and the first thought in my mind was that today was the day ... and I was sad. Sad for the kitty and also very sad for my friend. I know the pain of that kind of loss - it tears at you. 

I checked my phone to see how low the battery was - and found that there was a message waiting on my voice mail. And it was from my youngest daughter's insurance company - a call for which I'd been waiting ever since she passed away in a car crash in October 2013. The only thing remaining on the insurance that hadn't been paid was the car itself - the medical bills and so forth had to be taken care of, and they had to be satisfied that our baby wasn't under the influence of alcohol.... or they wouldn't pay. So I have been paying on the car loan and wondering when they'd make their decision.

The message was that they needed forms filled out so that they could cut a check for the car. 

So many feelings! Relief ... vindication ... even grief as that loan was the last earthly vestige of her presence here. 

But the sun started to peek through the clouds. 

Photo "Double Rainbow" courtesy of
Evgeni Dinev at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

We picked up our friend and her cat, and took them to the clinic ... it was hard, obviously, but the vet made it easier with her gentleness and compassion. My friend and I  decided to wait in the vehicle while hubby stayed with kitty during her final moments - and right around the time that the deed was being done, my friend saw it: a robin. Hopping along the grass by the driveway to the vet clinic, a brilliantly red-breasted robin was stopping every so often and listening for his breakfast. It was a symbol of new life, and (as some of the First Nations believe) of letting go of what isn't working. So apropos.

Another rainbow; another ray of hope. Soon we were back home and getting a bite to eat.

Then - at our friend's request - we paid a visit to the Humane Society shelter. There, a young little momma cat who'd just recently had her kittens taken from her was in one of the cages, up on a perch and looking out at the world - and the moment their eyes locked, there was an instant connection... Twenty minutes later there was an adoption form filled out and instructions to wait until she was able to be neutered before bringing her home.... probably in about a week. 

Rainbows, multicolored and fresh, strewed in our pathway today. Such a gift in the midst of all the sadness.

Goodbyes, hellos, doors closing, others opening. Death, life, sadness and joy all mixed in together. 

Yep. It's a rainbow day.

Life lines

The last time I talked to her, she was so amazed and pleased that I had called, so worried that something bad had happened, so relieved when I said that all was well.

Of course it wasn't ALL well, but she didn't need to know that.

She talked about her daily life - struggles with the medical profession, aches and pains, worries about family concerns and conflicts, the latest news about this person and that one. There was nothing earth-shattering; she was just sharing her normal everyday stuff. We talked for almost an hour then. In that time, she told me the same stories four or five times... and I let her. She asked the same questions of me two or three times, and I answered her each time. She really didn't remember the little details like what she did or said five minutes ago, so why would I get annoyed? 

She's perfectly sane, perfectly lucid - it's just that she forgets. She's 84 after all. 

Photo "Serpentine Pathway Stones On A
Park Lawn (concept)"
courtesy of arturo at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

And today I called her and she was surprised and pleased and worried and relieved all over again. She asked the same questions, told the same stories, and I listened. And we reminisced about good memories from years gone by. 

Sometimes, when we do that, I learn stuff I never knew before ... good stuff.

I learned a little bit about what it was like when she was a young mother and she and Dad bought a part of their landlord's house and literally sliced it off and moved it down to land they'd bought down the hill. She described how several of the neighbor men put the structure on rollers the size of huge logs and just pushed the house slowly down the road and brought the back roller up to the front and slid it underneath the house ... what an exciting adventure it all was for my older brother who was about three and a half years old at the time, over six years before I was born. 

In times like that, when she loses herself in a story I've never heard before, my own bad memories - and there were many - fade away. They don't vanish, but they go into the background. She hasn't remembered those bad times in years anyway, and would deny they even happened. I used to think it was important for other people to know the truth of those years, but somehow it doesn't seem that crucial anymore. I know what happened; that should be enough for me. And although the ripples from those things do still affect my life now, forgiveness has acknowledged them and not sought retaliation. Compassion and kindness has taken the place of anger and resentment. Mercy has triumphed over judgment. I don't take credit for that; that credit goes to a Power higher than I, a Love far greater than my own.

So I listen to her. I listen and I learn. I let her know some of the things I am doing, the realities I live with now - not enough to worry her, but enough to let her know that I have a life and responsibilities of my own, and that even in the midst of them, I still care enough to call her and listen. 

"The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places," wrote King David. (Psalm 16:6). He was talking about the paths and the boundaries that made up his life, the relationships he had, the circumstances he faced, and all that made up the substance of his life. Life lines. Not as in foretelling the future, but as in looking back on the path his life had taken and seeing how all those events and decisions had turned out. 

And being satisfied ... and content. And perhaps even surprised.

I am.

In or Out

For the last few days, I've been having a discussion with a friend about personality types. This friend claims, "I used to be an introvert," as if it was something negative, and then goes on to say that life-changing [positive] events turned him into an extrovert. His definition of introverts bothered me, because he described himself (as a "former introvert") as anti-social, painfully shy, people-hating, and other equally unbecoming adjectives. 

Upon further probing, I discovered that he had been repressed as a child and was not allowed to express his friendliness and caring by his overbearing and punitive father. He therefore became withdrawn and didn't seek out interactions with others. When he was finally away from his birth family, he had a spiritual experience that tore away the fetters and allowed what I believe was his true personality to shine forth.

I have been trying to tell this friend that introversion is not what he describes at all. Not every introvert is socially awkward or phobic. Not every introvert is antisocial or hates people. Not every introvert is shy. (He still uses those adjectives interchangeably with introverted.)

In fact, these qualities are probably quite well shared among both major personality types, just expressed in a different way. For example, a lot of extroverts are quite insecure on the inside - but instead of withdrawing, they tend to put on a smiling, brave face and often overcompensate by being extra-driven, extra-talkative, and/or extra-friendly.

Photo "Teenage Girls Gossiping" by
Ambro at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Most statistics will tell you that the introvert and extrovert population is just about evenly split. I tend to believe that the introvert population is under-reported (in other words, that there are many more introverts around than there are extroverts) because most introverts KNOW that they are introverts whereas most extroverts have no idea that they are extroverts, and they are therefore more likely to take a "personality types" questionnaire to find out what their type is. I can't count the number of times someone has said to me right before those ever-popular Myers-Briggs or Jungian exercises, "What major personality type do YOU think I am? I just can't figure it out..." Invariably that person is an extrovert (and not just borderline either. Extremely so!!)

Here is the ONLY basic difference between introverts and extroverts: where does the person get his or her energy? 

That's it. That's the whole difference. 

Extroverts are energized by being around other people; they need others like every animal needs oxygen to survive. Their orientation is "Out." Without social interaction, they become irritable, moody, sometimes depressed. Introverts are energized by being alone OR in the company of one (or at the most two) close and trusted friends. Their orientation is "In." Without their daily dose of quiet time, they become just as irritable, and can become depressed or morose. 

No one type is better than the other. That is not what is commonly believed, however. By both "sides."

That is the illusion - that is the misconception passed along by the media and by those with power over others. In fact, many times those with power over others are extroverts. Their extroverted nature naturally predisposes them to rise in popularity and they often find favor in the eyes of those who are looking to promote from within.  And many extroverts, unfortunately, see introverted people as a threat.  Introverted people see the impulsive nature of the extrovert as a dangerous thing, and want to put on the brakes when they see things starting to spiral out of control. In typical reactionary style, they see the extrovert as the threat.

There are many reasons for this. 

An introverted person's tendency to think, to ponder detail, to look at all sides, and to be cautious can be seen by extroverts as being "a wet blanket." His need for quiet time can be seen as being a "party pooper." His reticence to speak up at meetings (a common thing among introverts) can be mistaken for a lack of interest or involvement. 

An extroverted person's tendency to speak out with new ideas - to "think out loud" so to speak, can be seen by an introverted person as brash and controlling. The introvert can view the extrovert's constant socializing as scatterbrained or even lazy in a "grasshopper versus ant" way. 

Each group considers itself to be "In" and the other group "Out" - we versus they, dividing walls getting thicker and thicker. Bullying is common between the two groups. So is manipulation. 

It's so sad. So unnecessary. So junior high school.

In actual fact, the conversation that the extrovert has with himself out loud when facing a decision is the same conversation that the introvert has within himself. It's just that the introvert prefers to be right the first time he dares open his mouth, not wanting to appear "dumb." The extrovert sees that hesitancy as 'not being a team player' and often jumps to another topic - or gets obvious and repeatedly asks for a response - when there's no feedback (extroverts LOVE feedback. Instant and continuous feedback.) Introverts usually don't give feedback until they've processed the entire ball of wax, and many times their reaction is better "felt" than "telt." In other words, a statement or an idea can impact an introvert deeply without a word being spoken in response. It doesn't mean that the introvert is any less affected by it. He's just pondering the implications.

The extrovert, on the other hand, likes to 'bounce ideas' off others and in so doing, help to clarify his thinking; it never crosses his mind that the first thing out of his mouth is going to be the final result. Introverts see that as insincere and shallow. But it isn't. It's just the way extroverts process the world around them. It's just different. Not worse, not superior. Not inferior. Different. An extrovert's mentality is that if he likes something, then everyone likes it. So when he says, "Come on, it'll be fun," he really means it will be fun for him, and since everyone is just like him, everyone will think it's fun. He can't understand why it wouldn't be. So to an introvert, his encouragements to engage in whatever activity it is, appear to be just so much bullying (- and, don't get me wrong, when it turns into insistence in spite of protests, it IS bullying -) when usually what is the case is that it's a way for him to share his excitement and enthusiasm. 

I lived with an extreme extrovert for nearly 21 years. She was the only extrovert in our household, and I can say from experience that she felt insecure, out of place, unaccepted, and "strange" or "defective" in our house just as much as an introvert raised by extroverts would feel. But there was nothing strange or defective about her. She was just different. We came to appreciate her energy, her zest for life, her zany antics when things just got "too quiet." And she in turn came to appreciate our steadiness, our depth of feeling, and our analytical abilities when she faced a decision she really didn't know how to work through on her own. 

And there is one more thing that I must mention. Just because a person is an extrovert or an introvert doesn't mean that he or she doesn't have some of the qualities of the opposite at the exact same time. People are incredibly complex beings, and no two personalities are exactly alike. People are who they are ... and that's a good thing. It means endless variety, endless challenge, endless adventure to life. To dismiss one or the other or say that it is wrong or somehow defective or sick, is to deny one of the most important things we humans value about our humanity: individuality. If everyone were the same, it would be an unbelievably boring existence, wouldn't it?

How about putting aside excluding or judging others on the basis of our differences and leaving it "Out" of the picture, where it belongs??  How about adopting the idea that we're ALL, every one of us, in the "In" group - - all of us, no exclusions?? How about that?? 

Because after all, we're all "In" this together....

Restoration Work

I absolutely love reno shows. I love to see things go right down to the bare bones and then to see the new take shape. 

One of my new favorite shows is Rehab Addict with Nicole Curtis. She buys old homes and restores them to their "former glory." And she is not afraid of hard work. Often she stays up into the wee hours of the morning doing what would be considered thankless jobs - like cleaning old greasy kitchen backsplash tiles with baking soda, vinegar and a toothbrush to avoid tearing them out and replacing them - and the results are truly remarkable. 

Watching her work and listening to her talk with passion about her finds reminds me of a few things in my own "personal reno" process. These are lessons I've learned - and I see them repeated over and over again whenever I see shows like this. 

Often the problems that she fixes are ones that were created by former owners who didn't like the old décor. So, they just painted or papered or plastered (or stuccoed) over it without fixing the original problem. 

I hear a lot of people say a lot of things about how people need to deal with their own emotional fixer-uppers. Some of these ideas are that one needs to forget the past, live in the present, and so forth.  I'm not sold on the idea of forgetting the past ... and when I watch reno shows, I see parallel lessons on how to live life - and how to deal with the past - so that there are no nasty surprises down the road. 

Here are a few things I've learned in my journey:

Restoration is messy. Mistakes have been made, things have been allowed to slide, some things don't work anymore, and it takes a lot of work to get them working again. Or even to the place where you can figure OUT if they work. 

The past never stays in the past. Like rotten beams and ant-eaten wood, the past will keep on causing problems unless is excavated, exposed, and evaluated. If something needs to be fixed, it's easier to fix when it's sitting in front of you instead of buried beneath layers and layers of emotional veneer.  If it needs to be eliminated, or replaced, it's best to do that while the walls are down, rather than cover over it and then wonder why your support structure keeps sagging. 

Sometimes you need help.  Asking someone who is trained in dealing with certain kinds of emotional problems that seem overwhelming to you is not a sign of weakness; it is a sign of strength. Often it takes "another pair of eyes" to detect any issues and help to deal with them systematically and objectively, but with empathy and kindness. For some people, that might mean talking to a counsellor. Or a pastor. Or some other kind of spiritual advisor. 

It takes time. There are almost NO "quick fixes." Sometimes spiritual breakthroughs happen, but for the most part, it's dealing with one or two issues at a time, and this is a process. It's easy to get discouraged, but keep in mind that things that are worth doing take time to do. And the goal of being free, strong, and beautiful inside is worth the time it takes. 

Sometimes you have to do hard things by yourself. Depending on another human being is great, but there are times when there is an unsavory job to be done (like cleaning a toilet, for example) and it's really a one-person task. The part of my journey that was like this was after I had gone through my memories and ferreted out all the resentments I had harbored inside against people who had hurt me. One by one, I had to get to the root of these and figure out whether it was because the person had harmed me on purpose or whether it was something over which the person had no control. I had to experience emotions I had suppressed for a long time, emotions that sat there and festered the longer I denied they were there. This was hard, slogging work and nobody could do it for me. 

It's okay to take a break. Sometimes the process of restoration is overwhelming, and it can wear you down. The hard work will be waiting for you when you get back to it. Do something you like to do for a while. Take some "me" time. That too, is part of the restoration process - one that is way too easily overlooked - self-care.

There will be setbacks. Old patterns of fear-based thinking, habitual controlling or self-defeating ways of relating to people, will happen. Guaranteed. The trick is in recognizing them when they happen. The work that has preceded  will help you to catch yourself falling into those mind-traps and allow you to get out of them sooner. "Do-over" is a great concept; give yourself a break and try not to beat up on yourself when you go back to your old ways of thinking. Just let it go, and rethink, and move on. The setbacks are learning experiences. They will get fewer and fewer. 

Morning at the beautifully restored great room at
Charlottetown's The Inns On Great George

Celebrate little victories. These happen, and sometimes it's hard to acknowledge them because it makes you sound like you're tooting your own horn. Be your own cheerleader. Spend time reviewing - and being grateful for - the changes that you see happening over time. You may not see a change from yesterday; that's okay. You will be able to see a change happening over the long term. Compare your reaction to events to what it was like six months or a year or two ago. You may surprise yourself. You might find something that you thought you'd lost for good - happiness - as the changes become more and more a part of your life.

Live in the new part - work in the old. it can be extremely discouraging to live your life in the constant disarray of a "work in progress." Learn to live in the new reality - the present and restored reality - and enjoy the benefits of that portion of your life, that area where you are no longer "less than" or "more than" someone else, but an equal. 

Because of that mindset, new relationships will have formed with people who believe in you; nurture them. Old and dysfunctional relationships - at least some of them - will have changed for the better; maintain that and keep working toward equality. You will feel less and less of a need to define yourself by what others think of you, and more and more by what you think of yourself. Keep working on your unfinished business, yes, but pace yourself and live more in the new reality than in the old. This will get easier as you continue to work on restoring more areas of your life to their intended purpose. 

It truly is worth it.