Tag Archives: introverts

Almost 28

Crisis mode.

I recently learned there’s a term for this:

Aptly called,

The Quarter Life Crisis.

Perpetually somewhere between a kid & a “real” adult



Intense depression


Feeling stuck

Being disrespected

Unsure of what is next

Scared to move, yet panicked to stay


What if I regret change later?

What if it doesn’t make me happier?

What if?

What if?

What if?


What if…..

I sit here forever in a state of indecision?

What if…..

I waste my life waiting for the opportune time?

What if…..

I just don’t know how to get what I really want?

What if…..

I’m just petrified by the idea of taking a chance?


Already depressed.

Already unhappy.

Already stuck.

Already disrespected.


What could be worse?


I don’t know.

And that’s why I’m here,

In crisis mode.

At almost 28.  


October’s Lack of Inspiration


The month of fall.

The month of cool, crisp air.

The month of sweaters, tall boots, pumpkins, candy, costumes, and spooky things.


I used to love October.

Now, October is so busy I have no time to think.

No time for creativity.

October has lost it’s inspiration.


I want to write,

But my brain is tired,

And the words don’t come.


I want to read,

But my eyes are tired,

And can’t focus on the words. 


October used to be my favorite month.

Now, I can’t wait for October to be over.  


There’s a monster inside my head.

She is dark.

She is bleak.

She does not believe in love or happiness.


The monster inside my head

Sometimes she is quiet

Sometimes she’s an introvert

But she is always watching,


On bated breath,

To pounce on any inclination

Of self-doubt

Of self-consciousness

Of blissful unawareness


There’s a monster inside my head.

She’s a disrespectful, hateful bitch

She’s a soul-sucking hurricane of negativity

Feasting on my thoughts

My soul

My relationships

Everything that is dear to me.


There’s a monster inside my head.

I hate her.

But I can never rid myself of her.

Because the monster inside my head is me.


Today, I am the sunrise.

The reliable, slow brightening of the morning sky.

The break in the darkest of night.


Today, I am the constant motion of the heavens around Earth.

The quiet, accountable rotation that perpetuates exhausting darkness to renewing light.

I am the changing landscape of color that denotes a new day.


Today, I am the sunrise.



The signal of something new.


Today, I emerge from the fading light of the moon to become a child of the sun.

Today, I turn a new leaf.

I celebrate the sunshine.

The warmth and motion of the day.


Today, I am the sunrise.

Only temporary;

Before the darkness returns again.

The stains that won’t wash away


Today I’m left feeling like that ink pen that explodes in your apron.

Anyone who’s ever served tables knows what I’m talking about.

That rouge pen that migrated to the bottom of your apron pocket, only to explode;

And cover everything in your apron with thick, black ink.

Including your hands.

Your order pad.

Your money.

And everything else you need to do your job.

It doesn’t destroy, just complicates.

It doesn’t stop you from doing your job, just makes it harder.


Today, I am that pen that didn’t destroy; I just complicated things.

I am that pen that didn’t stop you from doing your job, I just made it harder.

I am those smeared, sticky black ink marks that won’t quite wash off your hands.

I am those ink marks that permeate through everything you need.

I am that ink that stains your work shirt permanently.

I cling to you.

The filthy, sloppy, sad reminder of the pen that betrayed you.

Today, I am that pen.


There is something quietly beautiful about 3:30am. Most of the world has drifted off to sleep — unless you’re lucky enough to be a night owl. You see, I believe that 3:30am is the hour of the powerful introvert. It is a peaceful time of night reserved for those of us overwhelmed by the events of the day, whom simply need time to think, alone.

3:30am is the hour of the artist, the dreamer, the writer, the empath; those who voraciously seek growth. 3:30am is the hour to reflect on individual needs and honor the individual beauty we bring to the world. 3:30am is the hour of the loner. My paradoxical nature allows me to swing between raging extrovert and quiet introvert. I’ve learned over my 27 years of life to honor both extremes of my personality. I have a job that allows me to be a raging extrovert. When you teach, you are rarely — if ever — alone throughout the day. It is one of many reasons I love my job; nothing replaces the relationships, conversations, and small moments I share with my students and my co-workers. I value every conversation.

But at 3:30am, I am allowed the comfort of honoring my quiet introvert. My need to be alone with my own thoughts. This is why I find quiet beauty in the hours when most others are asleep. I reserve my 3:30am thoughts for weekends and holidays. Teaching is a great job, albeit an exhausting one. During the week, I need sleep in order to be prepared enough to tackle my day. It is, in a way, part of the way I honor my introvert. I am not myself without my 8 hours. I am naturally not a morning person. I am a child of the moon.

3:30am is when I am able to find myself again. It is the time when my creativity flows freely and my mind is of unfiltered thought. I have never minded being alone. Some of my best thoughts and ideas have come to me at these quiet hours of the morning — when I’m alone, listening to the soft chirp of the crickets, aware of the world continuing around me. But for a couple of hours, my world slows down. Time slows to a grinding pace — and for a little while, I am simply able to enjoy my life and what I have made of it. I am able to enjoy true peace.

My fellow night dwellers — don’t let the world convince you to turn your light off. Keep this quiet hour for whatever it means to you. Enjoy the peace. Enjoy the silence. Enjoy the slow tick of the clock. You may be alone, but you are not misunderstood.  I see you with the light still on at 3:30am.

I am there with you.