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March 27 • Homebodying

Day 627

Well, that was interesting. I just had a completely different kind of honesty moment with a lesson in acceptance. I love when these drop out of the sky. My wife and I are very different people. I'm an introvert that is often used as an example in workshops as to how a person can learn skills to overcome the weaknesses of their personality traits. I'm usually the last person in the room that people pick to be an extreme introvert. My wife is an exquisite Type A personality. She likes to stay busy, go places, and always have a couple of major projects in process. And whether it's a cruise or a walk to the mailbox, I seem to have this uncontrollable need to roll my eyes at the suggestion that I should get off my metaphorical butt and do something. We could write a whole book on how we've tried to package this juxtaposition of souls into a complementary expression of our marriage instead of a perpetual conflict, but that's not the point today; that's just for context. I have always felt guilty about being fine being home. I like it here. I like being with her here. I like being with her on a cruise ship, too, but there's always that initial reaction of just wanting to pull up the covers. Worse yet, I assumed she always thought I was lazy, and I allowed myself to carry that weight of her opinion despite multiple careers of over-achievements and hard work. Today, we were talking to another couple about how they dealt with being confined to their home during the COVID-19 housebound orders. They smiled and said they kind of enjoyed it because — and here it comes —

"...we are both introverted homebodies."

Wait... what...? You mean it's okay to be a homebody? And it's okay to admit it and embrace it? Holy cow. As soon as that conversation was over, I asked my wife if it seemed a little weird to her, and we proceeded to have a wonderful conversation in which I confessed to applying motive to her busyness, and she laughed at the idea that I thought that she thought I was lazy. I do not know whether this little moment changed her opinion of anything, or needed to for that matter. But I actually had an experience of acceptance — accepting myself — that I didn't even know I needed. It was great. The only reason I got to have this pleasantness is my recovery, and the tools I'm learning to use to identify my defects and to take responsibility for my feelings, as well as my actions. Did it change the world? Well, it really did, just a little bit, and I'm thankful for it.




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