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Some of my favorite <snips>:
Extroverts are easy for introverts to understand, because extroverts spend so much of their time working out who they are in voluble, and frequently inescapable, interaction with other people. They are as inscrutable as puppy dogs. But the street does not run both ways. Extroverts have little or no grasp of introversion. They assume that company, especially their own, is always welcome. They cannot imagine why someone would need to be alone; indeed, they often take umbrage at the suggestion. As often as I have tried to explain the matter to extroverts, I have never sensed that any of them really understood. They listen for a moment and then go back to barking and yipping.
Inscrutable as puppy dogs; barking and yipping. :P
The worst of it is that extroverts have no idea of the torment they put us through. Sometimes, as we gasp for air amid the fog of their 98-percent-content-free talk, we wonder if extroverts even bother to listen to themselves. Still, we endure stoically, because the etiquette books—written, no doubt, by extroverts—regard declining to banter as rude and gaps in conversation as awkward. We can only dream that someday, when our condition is more widely understood, when perhaps an Introverts' Rights movement has blossomed and borne fruit, it will not be impolite to say "I'm an introvert. You are a wonderful person and I like you. But now please shush."
Please, someone, send this to my mom. It can't come from me.
Extroverts talk in order to think. And with most extroverts, what you see is what you get. Introverts are driven to distraction by the semi-internal dialogue extroverts tend to conduct. Introverts don't outwardly complain, instead roll their eyes and silently curse the darkness.
Introverts think before they talk. And sometimes that means they don't say a lot, especially if there's they are engaging an extrovert willing to do all the talking.
What a contrast; a beautiful portrait of my mother the extrovert, and me.
Guess what? I am literally the ONLY family member my extroverted mother has, outside of my 2 sons. It's always been that way. I left home at 17, tired of being the only person around to fill all of her needs; which, in retrospect, was just one need: the need to be "energized" by interactions with family: me. It was another 2 1/2 decades before I truly understood why, when I visited her, or she visited me, more than 24 hours left us both on edge; me, because she sucked up all my "space" like a vampire. She, because she kept poking me with the stick to get the interactions she needed to feed off of, and I promptly pulled into my shell, leaving her frustrated as well. Even the bathroom was no escape; she'd stand outside the door to talk while I used the toilet, or come inside to talk while I was in the shower. Or come sit on the edge of the bed to talk when I took a book to bed for the evening.
It's been a relief to discover that I really do love and appreciate my mother, and to find ways to cope with her different needs.
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