Learning to live with an Introvert

Boyfriend Jon and I have been living together for five months now. And along with all the normal arguments compromise that goes along with combining resources, tasks, and responsibilities...it's also been a huge learning experience. For me especially, learning to live with an introvert has been a near constant crash course trying to understand what, when and how much the other person needs.

Why didn't I know this coming in to the living-together situation?

Well, I knew he was happy staying at home, and that when he got involved in a project, it went so far as to exclude all else for long periods of time. I've also never in my life lived with an introvert. There is no such thing in my family, though my mom claims to be one. She goes for long long drives by herself, but usually, it's to go see someone. My dad, rarely goes to the grocery store without someone to keep him company and my siblings take up the spectrum in between.

Overall, i guess i fit into the Extrovert category. I somewhat straddle the line, though. While i love having someone there even though i'm not talking to them, i also don't like people getting into my bubble without permission. Empty house means i'm going to turn on the TV just to have the placebo effect of a human voice.

What i didn't know was that The Introversion Flag could pop up at any time, occasionally conflicting with my extrovert needs to have company, interaction, and socialization.

But I've watched him, seen the physical exhaustion that comes after parties, the strain after long periods where he can't work on his projects, and the outright despondence when we've been going going going, for a long time.

He's a strong man; I wouldn't be with him if he wasn't strong enough to support my own weaknesses. And often i wonder at his patience with my constant whirlwind of plans, projects and bouncing from idea to idea in a single conversation as i try to clear out my head for bedtime.

Out of everything we've been through for almost 3 years, this has been the toughest part for me to learn: Boyfriend Jon is an introvert and has different mental needs than i do. But, I honestly don't know what i'd do without my Infuriating Introvert.

Occasionally, in trying to help me understand, he sends me articles, comics, or a few emails that better explain Introversion. The following was one of the most adorable depictions I've ever seen and i had to share it.

My Great-Aunt Claire

Aunt Claire & Uncle Buddy

I have no idea why, but these last several days, my mind has turned frequently to memories of Aunt Claire. I find myself missing her so much. I wish that i could once again be a little girl, and climb up into her lap and tell her all the problems of my small little world. And that she would hug me tight tell me not to worry, then suggest some tidbit of wisdom that would snap everything into perspective and then everything would indeed be all right. And if it wasn't, well, suddenly her crossword puzzle would become too difficult for her and only i would be able to help.

My Great-Aunt Claire was many things to me. She was my grandmother's unmarried sister, my father's aunt, my summertime house guest, my playmate, my enthusiastic audience, my source of infinate wisdom, and role model for how i wanted to live my life.

To look at her, she would make a doctor, fashionista, and hair stylist all cringe. Her hair was dark brown, almost black (and later grey) and she never dyed it. She kept it cropped boyishly close. She wore thick 80s glasses that gave her bug eyes. She was very overweight, so she wore muumuus usually in garish colors like orange, fuchsia, and brown. Beneath them, she wore knee high nylons to hide her varicose veins and what i can only describe as grandma shoes. Her arms had arm fat hanging from them almost 10 inches long and she never work makeup. She was no delicate flower. Not with her brisk and no nonsense attitude.

G-Aunt Claire, Grandma Anne, Aunt Eileen, Uncle Paul

But I loved her fiercely and i would never change a single hair on her head. If i had eons to sit here and tell you about her, i could never come close to truly describing the woman who shaped my growing years in ways that i can't even pick apart until i catch someone staring at me when i'm ranting in "Aunt-Claire-ian" terms. Her enthusiasm for life always amazed me.

Behind those thick glasses were mischievous and sparkling with a hundred unspoken jokes. Her arm blubber was an endless source of entertainment and she never ever felt shamed about it. She wore the muumuus because they were exceedingly comfortable, not giving a damn about fashion. I learned how to count because she would have me count out her pills in her weekly pill reminder case. She made up words collected from Italian, Ukrainian, Yiddish, and Tarzan (no i'm not kidding, she loved Tarzan's language of the beasts and used several phrases on us children) She knew how to improvise just about everything from card game rules, which spontaneously changed mid-game, to the left hand while playing piano.

Aunt Claire, my brother Michael, Grandma, Me, Dad, Mom,
Grandma T and my brother Johnny

And she would sing. Off key, tuneless, and able to be heard through the whole house. That's how i knew everything was right in the world, when Aunt Claire was singing or shuffling her feet in a silly little dance.

When everything was not all right, the whole neighborhood heard about it. Her and my grandmother would get into screaming matches over who had more cookies at tea time or if Perry Mason or Columbo was a better show, which generally ended up with them screaming at each other in Ukrainian about fifty or more past arguments. But so help you if you jumped into the argument, they would both turn on you like savage dogs, defending the other for the very thing they had been yelling about seconds before.

She died just before i graduated, on May 21, 2005 at 84 years old. I very badly wanted to go but with school coming to a close and the trip to the other side of the continent, we held our own memorial at home in the form of an UNO card game marathon proclaiming PURPLE PEOPLE EATERS, and YELLOW CANARIES and TAKE 2 when dropping a regular 2 card and the infamous ACCORDING TO HOY-LEE proclamations. It was my aunts favorite game even though she would cheat against us children. So many of my memories revolve around a deck of well worn Uno cards.

Uncle nick, Michael, Random person,
Me, Margaret, Johnny, Noreen,
and Aunt Claire, clearly plotting some uno scheme

I found recently that my upper arms are starting to develop a little droop when i hold them up. I began to freak out. I loved my aunt and admire every detail about her, including her complete disregard for mainstream beauty. But at 25, i'm not ready to have her arms, I hate dresses in general, i love my long hair, and well, just...damnit i'm to young to have blubber arms!

Part of me has always wanted to be like her. Until Boyfriend Jon came along, it wasn't entirely unexpected (by myself and my family) that i would become the unmarried caregiver in this generation of our family since it seems there's always one or two. I wanted to be the one whom all the kids gathered, so i could pass on my unconventional wisdom that comes from not being a typical woman. To show them that its not really necessary to live according to main stream, to have the latest media and toys to entertain yourself, and mostly that life is a wondrous thing and we should enjoy it.

It's my philosophy in life even now; not conforming, doesn't necessarily mean you can't be happy doing it. I wish now that i had asked my aunt why she never married. There's so many things i wish i could talk with her about. I regret that in the last few years of her life, she was barely even a shadow of the incredible dynamic woman i grew up with. Dementia saw to that. And that even as a teenager, i didn't make time to talk with her on the phone. Mostly i regret that my future children will never know her.

Some day, the Uno cards will come out, and i'll teach them about purple people eaters, Hoy-Lee, dig a little deeper, let me call you sweetheart, scosheeboshee and Ungawa Nichcha (most of those are aunt clarian terms that still float around our family). Who knows what's in the cards for me. I could still turn out to be very much like her.

But the blubber arms have to go.

Post Redwoods

So we're back. From five glorious days (more like three full days and two partial days cause we were driving) in the Redwood forests of California.

First off, I had a blast. Boyfriend Jon's family was fun, the Redwoods were breathtaking and we didn't have a repeat of Deception Pass Tent Floods. So I'd say this was a first class camping trip.

We played a variety of board games, made fires, roasted smores, told stories, chased the kids around, cooked, hushed the dogs, did some hair braiding, and most importantly, relaxed.

Our drive down was beautiful. In the past we'd listened to audio books from the Ender series. This time it was to be Xenocide. However, the quality of the audio was so poor we quickly turned it off. The drive, while beautiful, seemed longer as we pulled into the campsite after dark despite having left at 6:30am. It wasn't until the drive home that we realized Google Maps LIED. There is no way we could possibly have done the trip in 11 hours. Even with minimal stops it still took us over 15. I'm convinced that most of this is due to the fog and twisty windy turns where there's no way to go the speed limit. So now we know for future reference that we need to leave earlier and plan on at least 15 hours.

The Redwoods. Just wow. I can't get over how big some of the "small" ones were. We climbed up over 20 feet into the air on one of the felled trees. And i spent most of a long walk in the woods with Boyfriend Jon's family thinking about how they filmed Star Wars Return of the Jedi amid tangled roots and thick underbrush.

Things i learned about the redwoods:

• Often, the trees grow from not from seeds, but from sprouts off of the stump. And they form living cathedrals in a perfect circle around the original stump.
• The reason they survive so well is the fog i mentioned before...comes in off the coast and absorbs high up, so they don't have to move the water all the way up from the ground.
• Physics says it's impossible for a tree to grow over 450 feet
• The tallest tree is 379 feet tall. Only slightly less than the height of the Great Pyramid as it stands today.
• The Redwood Forests that we have left is only about 10 percent of what was once there. Most of it was brutally cut down. 
• There was violent protests to stop this all the way up into my own lifetime when they finally got the picture that clear cutting was a bad idea during Redwood Summer in 1990.
• Now they've learned more responsible ways to grow and harvest Redwood lumber. 

And personally, i can attest to the constant moisture. We had full sun most of the time we were there, but our sleeping bags were constantly damp, and there was a massive humidity.