Mad Hatter Lives

Living, Loving, Lasting

Archive for the tag “balance”

Cleaning and Sorting















Introvert and Extrovert

I was an introvert before it was popular, and it’s funny, over a decade ago, when I was going through the drills for learning in the field of psychology, people had no idea what the difference was between introvert and extrovert.  If you mentioned the Myer’s-Briggs personality inventory, on Jung’s personality theory, people would go, “Huh?”

These days every time you turn around there is a new test to take on personality, and there is just a lot of information available through social media on what it is like to be an introvert.

I think it is interesting there is not as much out there on extroverts, but maybe it’s just that my feeds are littered with information about being introverted because I am introverted.

For the record, extroverts, as defined by Jung’s personality theory, are people who need to be around other people to refuel.  They seem to come to life when they are around others.  Introverts by contrast, need to be alone to refuel.  They come to life when they have time to be by themselves.  These are the fundamental differences between the extrovert and the introvert.

I have read conflicting statistics on which is more predominate in our culture, so I’m not going to posit information on that.  What I will say is, as someone who is extremely introverted, I seem to be surrounded by a lot of extroverts!

I cannot speak from the perspective of an extrovert, for reasons indicated above, but I can certainly expound on the world of an introvert with a few things for extroverts to know in order to successfully navigate the murky waters of introversion.

First, introverts tend to have a rich inner life that harbors imagination, private commentary, and deep pools of thought that one can get lost in.  An introvert can be happy on his/her own for an indefinite amount of time and not need noise or any kind of distraction to create contentment.  That is not to say that introverts sit quietly staring at the wall; just that they can without going stir crazy.

Second, if you have an introvert in your life, trying to bully them into joining in on all the activities extroverts love to do is most likely going to get a solid “No,” or will elicit an undesirable response that will continue throughout the activity.  On the other hand, don’t give up on asking, introverts need to be drawn out of themselves and they need to love of life extroverts so naturally possess.

Three, introverts love to have deep meaningful conversations, and if you are considering a venue where only small talk resides, you will likely find the introvert bailing on the event before it even really gets started.  Introverts are just not all that interested in talking about the weather and the stimulation we really enjoy is what results from conversation that leads to a connection with the other person in the conversation.

Four, as mentioned previously, introverts need extroverts in their lives.  Without extroverts they will struggle to find balance in the social component of their lives and can become reclusive as an extension of their need to refuel in solitude.  Introverts can struggle with depression and can very easily find themselves “unplugged” from the outside world.

Five, introverts are often mistaken as shy, and while they can be, introversion and shyness are not mutually inclusive.  In fact, introverts can seem outgoing to many.  People have often been very surprised I am as introverted as I am, but I tend to save up my energy and can appear outgoing and even extroverted for periods of time, but my tank empties pretty quickly and I must withdraw to refuel.

I suppose it is rather one-sided for me to write about introverts and not extroverts, but I am not an extrovert, and while I could expound on what I discover through research about extroverts, it wouldn’t really be authentic. But I can share a few observations I have made about extroverts as a result of having so many of them in my life, including my husband.

Extroverts do not have to have deep conversations with people in order to refuel.  That is why small talk does not frustrate them like it does introverts.  They refuel from the energy emitted from a group setting, and the more people the more they get from the environment.  That is not to say extroverts cannot have deep conversations.  On the contrary!  I have fantastic conversations with my husband all the time, but I get more hyped after such amazing conversations, whereas he can tends to feel drained or exposed.

A lot of extroverts tend to be verbal processors.  Now, again, just because one is extroverted does not mean he/she is a verbal processor.  Verbal processors tend to sort through an issue or situation through verbal dialogue.  They actually have the ability to solve while discussing.  It’s kind of amazing.  However, they can very easily frustrate an introvert who is firmly seated in processing everything internally.

Extroverts tend to have fantastic senses of humor and engage easily with all types of people, even introverts!  If you are a person who is introverted, be thankful for the extroverts in you life, for they are capable of making your exterior life as rich as your inner life.  If you are an extrovert, be thankful for the introverts in your life, for they can help you not be afraid of introspection and all the things about the inner you that make you so unique.

A Pain


















Madeleine L’Engle, Icons and Idols, and Carrier Fisher














Mind, Metaphor, and Getting Tethered

It’s been too long.  It’s not that there was nothing to say, I just didn’t know how to say it.  I am ever at my best when seated with “pen” in hand, as I am not really as adept at verbal exchange as I pretend.  And, well, I have been missing a piece of my self, my soul.  I have been adrift for the past year; just feeling really at sixes and sevens with me, but there have been a few exchanges and events of late that have brought me round to remembering that the best way to get tethered to what matters again is to delve into the depths of me and what has been going on in terms of changes on my lifescape.

I have been in an all out war with mental illness for the majority of my life.  I have been a public speaker about my experiences with major mental illness, a writer, and I have worked with people who are mentally ill, as well as those who have a mentally ill loved one in their lives, for nearly two decades.  Living with mental illness rather than succumbing to it is an ongoing battle that never ends.  It permeates every single function and every singe moment of the day.  It destroys, erodes, overtakes, distorts, fractures, and decays every part of a human life…

If allowed.

In my twenties I found myself adrift on the wreckage of my life in a vast ocean of psychotic malfunction and biological disruption.  There was no compass.  The basics like cognitive control and all the other evolved limbic functions like memory, social acuity, and self-comprehension, were no longer present.  I was adrift on a vast ocean, small and insignificant, on the surface of huge illness that would never fully divulge its secrets, much like the oceanic metaphor I am using.

I determined I would either dive off that piece of wreckage and end my life, or I would commit to living the most “normal” life I could possibly procure for myself.

I was very naive.  I now understand that if “normal” exists, it is not in my sphere.  I had two things going for me,  my loved ones, and my God.  Not the God that is in a white robe with a long beard, awaiting the opportunity to smite me if I step wrong.  That God would be rendered absolutely worthless to me.  Not some nebulous universal thing that plays games with me, using chance and karma as a way to get even with me or devise a series of rewards if I pull the magic ticket or do something it agrees with.  I have no patience with such nonsense.

I needed a meaty God who would roll up his sleeves and get dirty in my life;  a God who would sit with me in the darkest, thickest, most horrible depressions (medicated depressions, mind you) that were so very despairing and hopeless that I would want to pull my skin off in order to balance the horrific pain in my mind that came from nowhere, suffocating every single light in my world with black night.

I needed a God who could break through horrific despair that left me crying out in so much pain, tears could not flow, with a handful of pills in one hand, and the other hand pulling at my hair trying to find release.  I needed a God who could handle rages that came from nowhere allowing no release; a God who would comfort me, help me find answers, and NOT condemn me.

I found him.  I found the God that helped me function not only as a viable human being, but a human being able to perform at an extremely high level of functionality, with healthy relationships, and accomplishments that mean something to me.  I found a God I am not afraid to let see every single part of my vast and open mind that alters between dark void to colors and movement so prolific as to make the Borealis appear blase’; a God that not only loves me anyway but shows me magnificent things about that which was presented in my life to destroy me.

I very much admired Carrie Fisher.  I’m not really a fan of heroes in human beings, but I have very much valued her honesty in dealing with mental illness.  She was authentic and raw, something that is very valuable in a disease that is stigmatized. I find that, since her death, I am less tolerant of excuses and behaviors from people who refuse to be accountable for mental illness they are dealing with.  I suppose the reason for the correlation between the two is because I considered Carrie a success in living with major mental illness, and in her death I find I am less indulgent of stupid mindsets regarding mental illness.  I struggle every day to function in a way that others take for granted.  There are times when I have been at work and only a few hours earlier it was uncertain as to whether or not I would commit suicide.

I maintain balance as precariously as any tightrope walker.  I stay on a schedule.  I toss unhealthy people out of my life like debris on fire, even if I like them.  I say “no” a lot, because I owe it to myself, my husband, my family, my friends, to set boundaries with myself an others in order to maintain that balance I must have to function.  My life is a series of enormous and vibrant spikes stretching beyond view but confined in a space no bigger that than a plastic milk crate.  There are no continual social interactions with limitless potential for more in my sphere of living.  I am constantly over stimulated in my work environments, where everyone else is unaffected.  Some days when I get home, I put in ear plugs to just have a break from continual noise that permeates our cultured in every crack and crevice.

I had a conversation with a young woman some time back where she assured me she had bipolar disorder.  It was cavalierly said, and I confess it rankled.  I do NOT have a casual existence with bipolar disorder.  It has become the poster child for every outrageous behavior, an excuse to be and do whatever with, “I have bp, so I can’t help it.”

Only abut 1% of the population has bipolar disorder, and just as I fall into the 1% category of those in the country with a doctorate, I also qualify in the bipolar category. One I’m proud of.  The other distinction, I could certainly do without, and it annoys me when people who have no bloody clue toss it about like a hall pass to behaving any way they like.

I am medicated, have been for nearly 25 years.  It would take about 5 days without medication for me to be rendered incapable of functioning in the world at large.  Even with medication, I am forced to make major adjustments, especially since I also have agoraphobia, a very severe anxiety disorder. I don’t have the option of partying a little too much.  I don’t have the option of staying up too late several days in a row.  I don’t have the option of jumping from one social event to another.

IF I want to be able to do all the things that healthy functioning adults do, I cannot do a lot of the things that healthy functioning adults do.

I also find I am really, really intolerant of people feeling they need justification or proof of my mental illness.  I told my mom the other day that no matter my age, 23, 34, or 50, those of us with mental illness will always be expected to expand or prove just how mentally ill we are in order to do the things that keep us the healthiest.  The difference for me is that the older I get the less willing I am to humor other people’s requirements for justification.

So if you are mentally ill, focus on health and balance.  Do not spend your time trying to convince other people that you are as sick as you are.  Because the truth is that they won’t believe you anyway, and I have found that people who require you to show them that you are in fact in need of being different because you have a very serious illness, are the people who tend to be least capable of maintaining health and balance in their own lives.

The Lesson in Tossing


It was many years ago, but the lesson remains.  I didn’t realize it at the time, but what I learned would expand far beyond my initial experience and would shape my life. I am planning a small series of blogs on this just to limit word content.  I think this is a valuable topic and one that is being peddled all over the social world.  I hope to add something more practical to the concept, or at least address it a bit differently than I have seen from some.

My sister and I were moving from Kansas City, Missouri to Anchorage, Alaska.  The trip would take us nearly 5000 miles with two small cars and a cat.  We realized that making the decision to move would mean culling our belongings to what we could take in our vehicles with a few boxes my parents would later ship to us.

I have to tell you that getting rid of a household of items for two people is traumatic.  I had no idea, but we were literally traumatized.  And I don’t think either of us had ever considered ourselves as especially materialistic.  But “things” mean security to many.  And letting go of that which a person accumulates up through the third decade in life is pretty difficult.

I cannot speak for my sister, but for me that experience was life changing.  We had to do the same thing when we moved out of Anchorage nearly 5 years later, and it was much easier to just walk away from all the “stuff” than it had been the first time we did it.  I have come to understand the benefit of getting rid of items and have made an effort to keep my life more clutter free ever since.

Now, please do not misunderstand me.  There is absolutely nothing wrong with having things.  And for some of us, having things is a way to stay connected with the past by having them serve as an icon of a certain time in life.  But there are times when it is good medicine to head to the secondhand store to make a deposit.

If you find at any time that the reason you do not accept new experiences in life is because you are tied to material possessions, you might want to consider getting rid of some things. Having things in life is nice, but when they get to the point where they are an albatross are around your neck, and their upkeep or place in your life keeps you from being able to have new opportunities or adventures, it is time to make a list and boldly go where you have not gone before…

To the dumpster.

I mentioned that things help us stay connected to the past as icons for a time we want to remember.  That is the healthy perspective.  The unhealthy perspective is when our having certain things causes us to accumulate heavily, even causing us to create a habit of hoarding.  But what is most dangerous with nostalgia is that those items which herald a bygone era, can assist us in the unhealthy practice of living in the past rather than the present.

Nostalgia if very dangerous if indulged regularly, as it helps perpetuate a sense of longing which can lead to dissatisfaction with present life, feelings of helplessness, and depression.  Best to not allow too may items to have a physical place unless they are functional in the environment in which you currently exist.  In other words do they “fit” in with your current life, goals, and aesthetic acumen?

I have, at various points in my life, professionally cleaned houses.  I have done so as an independent contractor and also in working for a well known cleaning agency.  The houses that made me most uncomfortable and tended to be a bit on the run down side, regardless of the neighborhood (Keep in mind that if a person can pay to have his/her house cleaned, economic hardship is not at play), were the ones piled high with clutter.  Nick knacks everywhere and multiple rows deep.  Items layered so heavily on surfaces one couldn’t even see the surface.  Those homes always seemed to me to have a stifling sense of nostalgia that made me feel choked and claustrophobic.

Now one could certainly argue that the problem was most likely me and not the house, and no doubt there is truth to that, as I tend to be very easily over stimulated, but there is no denying that those homes were the ones where the people were buried in paraphernalia of the past. And the magnitude of their accumulations sucked all light and airiness from the home.  It would take literally hours to dust everything in the rooms.

I mentioned hoarding before, but I want to touch a bit further on how a person goes from accumulating items that enhance the environment or remind us of a time past, to accumulating so much that one is claustrophobic in the space.  I must impress that just because you accumulate stuff does not mean your are a hoarder.  Hoarding is a rather too often used term that really only applies to the most extreme of cases.  It appears to be triggered by a traumatic event and often the person is abandoned by a loved one, so the act of hoarding is more about the psychological malfunction than the actual accumulation of material goods.

There is a sense of security that goes along with having material possessions, but the reality is that having things does not make us safer. Being encumbered by the maintenance of the material can restrict us from the moments in life that require us to step out of our home space to fully enjoy them.  We have the right to own what we like.  That which I might consider priceless for sentimental reasons may be worth a buck fifty in the commercial world.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with having things.

The danger is imbalance.

If you find you are being held hostage by what you own, you need to be set free from it.  Nothing is worth you being encumbered when you do not want to be.  And just to prove you are able, pick a room and liberate it, and you.  If you struggle with accumulating, and you aren’t even a hoarder, but you want to be able to walk away from things without them following you, I hope this blog and the next helps you take steps toward liberation.

The lesson in tossing rather than keeping has challenged and shape my life in a good way, and it can yours too!

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