The Introverted Mom

For a day without people...

I am an introvert. I can put on a good show, and a lot of extroverts will claim I am otherwise but no. I can assure you, I am an introvert.

As an introvert I have needs. I need alone time. I need time to observe a situation before diving in. I need people I know around me to feel comfortable in social settings, and even then, I may run away as fast as humanly possible.

Now that I am a mom, small talk is much easier for me. I don't have to reach for topics of conversation. I can always mention Kiddo. Someone always has a question or comment, and I can always spit out a witty one liner and be on my way. It is convenient, but it is absolutely an introverted crutch.

I fear I have lost my small talk skills I learned with two extroverted parents.

But that is a small problem. The bigger problem is the fact that I don't get alone time. Being a stay at home parent, it's not the lack of sleep, or the excessive toddler stubbornness, or even the difficulty in finding time to work on my projects that bothers me. It's not even the lack of adult conversation about completely adult things (though that is something I do need).

No, the problem for the introverted stay at home parent is I never get a break. I am always surrounded by people. And as a mom, I am always needed. Extended breastfeeding, cosleeping, and the waves of excessive clinginess are taking their toll on my emotional and mental health.

If nap time could last four hours safely, and I could be in a locked room alone with my computer, journal, or weights, I would be a happy person. If I could assure several hours a day of total isolation, with no specific demands on my time except taking care of myself, I would be relish it.

As it is, when I do get the house to myself, I close my bedroom door and curl up in my bed. Not even my cat is allowed in. Sometimes I sleep. Sometimes I just lie there thinking. Sometimes I paint my nails. Whatever I do, it is slow and methodical, purposeful in its simplicity and self-centeredness. Whatever I do, it is for me, and me alone.

But even in those moments I feel pressure. I feel pressure to be "mom" or to do some household chores. I feel the pressure of the clock ticking away, my isolation counting down until there is none left and I am forced out of my solitude to face responsibility. My stomach roils with anxiety. I hate thinking about it, yet I can't stop. I want my isolation to continue. And I feel guilty for wanting that, for needing it, because it is taboo. Because moms are supposed to enjoy being with their children all the time.

But I am an introverted stay at home mom, so even though it is isolating to stay at home meeting the demands of a toddler, it is not isolating enough. It is not reclusive enough. Not the way I need. So as much as I would love to talk about adult things with adult people, give me an hour in an empty house, in a locked room, to be completely by myself.