An Introvert Married to an Extrovert: the Heart-Surgery-Recuperation Undertaking

When Susan Cain's book, Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking started getting a bunch of pre-publication buzz, I found a little piece of wisdom that brought me a whole bunch of inner peace. Of course, I already knew the common idea for what an introvert is, but her explanation put into words something I've tried to explain, but haven't quite managed to express, for my whole life. Being introverted isn't really about being shy, or anti-social, or selfish. It's just that being with people drains the energy of an introvert, and solitude replenishes it.

This brought me peace because I am married to an extrovert—a person who is energized by being with people. Yin and yang, it’s hard for each of us to understand that part of the other. I can’t relate to his need to have people around all the time, and he has often felt like my need for solitude was a personal rejection, that I didn't want to spend time with him. It's been one of the long-standing issues in our marriage. Not really a thing we fight over, exactly. Just a thing that tugs against each of us: he wants to spend all our time together, I need some time by myself.

Having gone through three other extreme surgery recuperations with Kendell, when he had his surgery this fall I knew exactly what to expect. Something more intense than our usual come-here/leave-me-alone tug of war, because his need for time with me wouldn't just be the norm, but a medical necessity. Medications and doctor appointment and massage and scar care and just the nurturing a person needs after such an invasive procedure. Plus my very-real and consuming fear that if I left him alone for a second, his stitched-together heart would stop working. As the time for his surgery drew near, I started shoring myself up, giving myself little pep talks that I would be OK.

All of which sounds like I don't enjoy my husband's company, which of course isn't true. What would be the point of being married if that were true? But the fact that I enjoy spending time with him doesn't negate the fact that I also need solitude. And that I wouldn't be having very much of it for a good, long expanse of time. By the fourth surgery, I knew to prepare myself. To not expect any creative time or solitude, to just hang on: January 4^th would come.

Tomorrow, it has. Tomorrow, Kendell is going back to work. He isn't 100% recuperated—his energy is still low, and his back and neck hurt, and he can't lift anything heavier than 40 pounds. But that was the longest the short-term disability leave would let him stay out. So he's going back to work.

And I'll have my solitude back. My freedom to organize my days however I want. To relax in the pleasure of a quiet, empty house. To have Sacred Thursdays back (you'd better be dying if you bug me on Thursdays, let alone ask me to do something with or for you).

But I find myself surprised: I'm really sad this time is over. Maybe because I knew what to expect, because I knew I would have very minimal time to myself, I didn’t get as frustrated by the constant companionship as I might have. Instead, I really tried to enjoy our time together. To savor and appreciate it for what it was.

And I survived, even without my solitude.

We had some good times. Sure—a lot of it was hanging out at home, watching TV. Lots of hours on HGTV, which meant lots of discussions about the next phase of our life. (I would really, really like to build a new house, one that’s smaller than the one we have now, one that’s designed for when we’re grandparents. On the other hand, I’d rather stay in this house and use the extra money on traveling instead of a bigger mortgage. So maybe we’ll remodel. Maybe we’ll completely redesign our kitchen. Or maybe we’ll just refinish and get a new countertop. Tear out the carpet in the front room and the stairs? Knock down the wall so we have a little bit of “open concept”? What about charm, our house is completely charmless!) We went out to eat for lunch two or three times a week; we tried new restaurants and returned several times to old favorites (I need to cut way back now that the holidays are over!) We saw a couple of movies (the first one we went to after his surgery, Spectre, was a little too soon, and he slept through half of it; I kept having to nudge him so he didn’t snore, even though I’m not sure the three other people in the theater would’ve heard him anyway). We went for a couple of drives, and we walked around our neighborhood to get him moving again. We shopped for Christmas. We wandered around Costco holding hands and getting samples for each other. We did go to the doctor a lot!

And despite my introverted character (and my general lack of the instinct to be nurturing), I found that by taking care of him I grew closer to him. You have to understand—Kendell is the strong one in our relationship. Physically, I mean. I think he can do anything. But at the beginning, he couldn’t do much. So the little things he usually does, like carrying in the box of milk from Costco, I did instead. (I can do these things, of course. He just usually does, because he doesn’t like feeling that someone is doing something he could do.) By taking care of him, I saw how much he takes care of me.

So here I am, on the other side of his surgery. At the day I was looking forward to. I thought I’d arrive here feeling like it was the end of an ultra-marathon: exhausted, worn out, and absolutely starved. Like I would be at the end of my just-hang-on strength. But it doesn’t feel like that at all. Instead, I feel strong. I feel like it was an opportunity for connection. For making my marriage better. An opportunity that my choice to savor and appreciate has allowed me to grab hold of. Don't get me wrong: we are still yin and yang. We will still struggle and argue and slam doors and swear. We might not be perfect after this—we will still have, in fact, an imperfect, complicated marriage—but like his heart, we are working so much better.

(One day I will get him to actually smile for a picture.)

Comments

[Feisty Harriet]

I swing wildly between extrovert and introvert, but I think mostly I'm an introvert who wants to be an extrovert...and I married a SUPER introvert...and it makes things, well, generally very quiet and non-communicative. Sigh.

xox

[Becky K]

I love this pic of you guys - K's face, the bow (reminds me of our ribbons from last year!)

I remember our talk on the bus going to the race and I'm happy that this time was good for you guys. Shane sometimes teases me about the time when we are both retired and we are together all. the. time. I tell him that he can go and be a Walmart greeter just so that I can be alone in the house!!