Here’s what happened after that:

First, I got up and wrote the blog post (I wasn’t writing the post from a prostrate position in bed–I don’t even have a laptop). Writing the post helped me put everything in perspective. I could see that even though the stuff kind of got me in an place that I wasn’t comfortable in, there really wasn’t anything there that was unmanageable.

Both my husband and son had headed out of the house for the day to work on hobbies and projects of their own. So I had the place to myself.

After writing the blog post, I set about straightening and cleaning. This is one thing I do that always helps me feel calmer and better. When my surroundings are in some sort of order, I naturally feel more relaxed.

During my cleaning and straightening time, I played soothing music–you know the kind–nature sounds and soft music mixed. I also took time to cuddle with the household pets. Much research has shown that petting a dog or cat is an excellent way to de-stress. I agree wholeheartedly with that research.

Finally, I took the dog for a decent walk.

So, let’s sum it all up.

I hid out for a while. Then I wrote about what was bugging me. Then I spent time by myself doing something that I find to have a calming effect. I listened to relaxing music. Then I spent quality time with my pets (I forgot to mention that I talked to them–they’re really good at listening). And finally I got some easy exercise and fresh air.

This combination of activities can work wonders for anyone who is feeling stressed or overwhelmed, whether introvert or extrovert.

By the time Sunday evening rolled around, I felt lots better.

What do you do when you’re overstimulated, overwhelmed, or stressed out?

BTW–I have to thank everyone who shares their comments and experiences on this blog. Your comments not only encourage me, they help other readers too. I am horrible at responding to comments. It doesn’t mean that I don’t read each of them. It only means that I suck at responding to them. Please bear with me as I struggle with myself over this.

I am lying in bed on my side, with my husband’s pillow over my head, covering my ears. Our dog, William, is lying next to the bed licking his paws in earnest.

slup, slup, slup, slup

It’s driving me crazy, but I don’t have the energy or will to remove the pillow from the top of my head and yell at the dog. So I just listen, while my son crunches a potato chip bag out in the kitchen and the shower, where my husband currently is, makes trickely water noises.

Here is a photo of William the dog. He is not licking his paws in this pic.

Today is Sunday. Why am I hiding in bed?

Let’s back up a few days, say, to Thursday. Thursday, I had two job interviews. In this economy, that’s a miracle. But I don’t like job interviews–they’re unsettling. For me unsettling = stimulating (not in a good way).

The first interview was interesting, to say the least. I felt pretty good, I guess. It was a morning interview, and I’d just had coffee. My interviewer was a nice enough guy. I could tell he felt that I had some decent qualifications and that I could handle the job with no trouble. Except…

Interviewer: There’s no doubt you can handle the job. But I’m concerned about one thing–you’re very calm–you don’t seem too excitable.
Me: I can get excited about things, I just stay excited on the inside for the most part.
Interviewer: We need someone who feels passionate and excited about what we’re doing. (I was amazed to hear this, as the particular industry this job is in is not one that I would think anyone could feel passionate about. What he wanted me to feel passionate about was the business’s bottom line, which I didn’t give a hoot about).
Me: Ummm.
Interviewer: Well, I like you. I just need to have our HR department email you a “survey” to take. It’s got some strange questions on it, but it helps us determine your personality type.
Me: INTJ. 100 percent introvert, moderate N and T, and fairly strong J.
Interviewer: OK. Well, it was great meeting you. We’ll be in touch.

I honestly didn’t want that job anyway.

The second interview was Thursday afternoon. In a noisy office. My interviewer spent about three minutes with me (she was in a big hurry). She loved my resume and noted that she had more interviews to do, but she thought I was perfectly qualified for the job. She’d call me early next week (which by my calculations would be tomorrow or Tuesday). I left, figuring I had a shot at the job, but not too sure about the level of noise and movement in the office.

Friday morning I had another job interview (I know–I was on a real roll with the interviews!). This one at an assisted living center, and the job was specifically to be working with people who have dementia and Alzheimer’s.

Now, right now, you may be wondering what would ever inspire me to work in a job like that, given that I am a very strong introvert. Well, in spite of my introversion, and the whole INTJ thing, I do have this very strong passion for helping people who I perceive to be in need. I am much less likely to help my able-bodied and maybe able-minded neighbor who talks too much, than I am to help a person who is clearly in need of both physical and cognitive, as well as emotional, help. I realize that helping others is draining. But it can also be nourishing.

I have this framed card on my wall that says, “We give comfort, and receive comfort, sometimes at the same time.”

So, off I went to the interview. I wanted this job, even if it meant that at some point I would probably have to change an adult diaper.

The interviewer liked me a lot. So much so that she had me fill out what seemed like 15 pages of paperwork so that she could run all sorts of background checks on me and hire me as long as the background checks said it was OK to do so. Basically, she said, I’m hired.

By the time I got home from the interview, the noisy office had called me and offered me a job, too. Also by this time, I was feeling a bit overstimulated from the process of interviewing for three jobs in two days and all the prep (mostly mental) that goes into such activities.

I turned down the noisy office job that I knew I could do with my eyes closed and standing on my head, and decided that I would spend at least the next couple years tending to the needs of people who have trouble tending to themselves. The money is so-so, and the benefits are excellent. The experience will be invaluable.

Now, about one hour after I made this epic decision. I started to panic. Ever so quietly, inside myself.

What the hell was I doing? It’s true, I need a job–it’s been a long winter of no job. I need a job, and I live in Michigan where jobs are pretty freakin’ scarce. I should be dancing happily in the living room. Instead I was panicking.

Friday evening my husband took me out for Chinese food to celebrate. I was still panicking inside. He kept congratulating me and asking me lots of questions about my future job. I finally had to tell him to quit and just eat. Friday night I tossed and turned when I should have been sleeping. What if I can’t handle it? What if the other staff members don’t like me because I am lousy at making inane conversation? What if? What if?

Saturday morning we headed out to visit my daughter and her family. Theirs is a house of noise and activity and wonder. Three small children aged 11 months to almost five years old live there. My oldest grandson had a meltdown at some point and went off to his bedroom (just off the living room, where everyone else was), screaming as loudly as he could. He continued to scream for some time. I love that kid, but I think the screaming was getting to me. Sponge Bob Square Pants was on the TV. The other grandson was asking curious questions, and the baby was sitting on my lap, poking lovingly at my eyes and nose. My daughter was telling me about her experiences working in a hospital taking care of elderly people who were sick and who also had lost some of their mental capacity. She is very kindhearted, and tried to give me a good pep talk. In the midst of her pep talk came this:

Daughter: Have you ever seen a dead person?
Me: Only in a casket or an urn.
Daughter: Well, you might have to deal with that on occasion. And they look better in caskets and urns than when they have just died.
Me: I’m sure.

My head was starting to spin. I’m not afraid of people dying. It’s going to happen. It’s a natural process. But it was just one more piece of information, or stimulation, or something, to add to the pile. My mind started to feel like a heap of shredded paper.

Finally, last evening, after the trip to the house of the noisy grandkids, my husband insisted that we go to a local bar/restaurant to listen to a band that one of his college professors is in. By the time we got to the bar, it was packed with noisy people who all seemed waaaay to excited. “Calm the f*%# down” I wanted to yell. I was near hyperventilation–just from the mounting activity and anxiety of the past few days.

I stood there in the bar and felt like an animal trapped in a cage. My husband enjoyed the atmosphere.

That’s why I’m lying in bed listening to my dog go, “slup, slup, slup”.

Next post: what I had to do (besides hide) to get myself back together.

Photo: Jenny Downing (hands)
Photo: Muffet (paper shreds)

If we were to move, we’d try to move this summer.

And both my husband and I are going to college. Well, he’s in college now, and goes year round, and I’m starting in May with the shortened summer semesters that students really don’t want to take hard classes in because they have less time to learn (if that makes sense).

And I’ll be going back to work in another six weeks or so.

And we’re considering packing up and moving this summer.

I promise, I’m going somewhere with this…

So this morning we were drinking our coffee and discussing moving and college and other things, and I was feeling sorry for myself because my husband invited a couple over for early dinner today and I don’t want them to come over because I almost never want to have company over, and I suddenly went on a rant.

Besides being an introvert, I was feeling rather dramatic during this time of feeling sorry for myself… so the drama inspired introvert’s rant went like this:

“I feel awful. I feel awful because you invited people over today and I hate it when people come over. And I feel awful because we’re thinking of moving and we’re thinking of moving in the summer and that’s when we’ll both be working and going to school and when will we have time to pack all our stuff? And I also feel awful because the neighborhood we’re considering moving to has people, just like this neighborhood”.

At this point I should explain that we don’t have the money to buy a lot of land to move to and hide on. We can only exchange one heavily populated neighborhood for another.

Also at this point, my beloved husband’s face was starting to screw itself into a oddly contorted grin that he was trying to suppress.

To continue…

“If we stay here, you know what’s going to happen? I’ll try to sit outside in the summer and study and So-And-So (not her real name) from across the street is going to see me and she’s going to come tottering across the street, wine glass in hand, and commence telling me about her college experience while I’m trying to study (I then imitated her telling me about her college experience and other harrowing life experiences). So I won’t be able to study and I’ll fail my classes, or I’ll be doomed to spend the whole summer in the house.”

To this, my husband replied, “If we move, maybe that won’t happen”. His face was still wearing that semi-suppressed, contorted grin.

And I said, “If we move, the new neighbors will want to be our friends and spend time with us and ruin my ability to study or be outdoors in peace!”

And the contorted grin turned into laughter and he said, “You are so WEIRD!”

Then I asked him, “Really, you’ve never met another person like me in your whole life? You can’t recall someone who wanted people to stay at least 50 feet away from them at all times?”

“No. I don’t recall meeting anyone like that. But I love you.”

Sigh…

Photo (notebooks): Muffet
Photo (wine glass): The Welsh Poppy
Photo (sign): Jan Tik</a