Advocating While Introverted, by Lydia Cubbedge

I stared at the phone with dismay, a knot tightening in my stomach. It was ringing, again, with yet another concerned professional on the other end. I’d made countless phone calls and left messages with teachers, school counselors, administrators, and doctors. I knew they’d get back to me, and I’d talk to them, and yet the idea of having to talk to them all, and meet with them all, drained me. There were just so many, and it was only the second day of a major crisis. It would only get busier. My original idea of getting everything done immediately was clearly backfiring. I felt frozen. I was fairly used to advocating for my son, who is autistic. He’s still little, though, with no school to navigate. This situation was different. My daughter, after a mental health crisis that resulted in a diagnosis of OCD, needed time off from in-person school to recuperate, while ensuring she wouldn’t lose her spot at school. She needed a psychiatrist, a therapist, a 504, a teacher she could meet with at home, and all the paperwork and meetings that required. Some parents breeze through these issues with little to no angst at all, but not me. I’m an introvert.

Introverts don’t hate people. We’re just easily drained of energy by social interaction. Extroverts gain energy from being around others, while introverts lose energy. We go to parties, have a wonderful time, and then need twenty four hours of absolutely nothing to recover. We also tend not to like asking for help or making ourselves the center of attention at all, which is not ideal for parents of disabled kids. We have to be on, ready to go, at the drop of a hat. Life can be chugging along nicely, everyone medically and mentally stable for a good stretch of time, the safeguards you put in place holding firm, and then boom–someone needs you to step in to make sure they get what they need. In my case this past year I stepped into brand new advocacy shoes as I navigated the labyrinth of the public school system. 

I was lucky. The school was determined to do right by her, and the counselors and vice principal in particular were incredibly good partners. That said, the nitty gritty details of her plan had to be hammered out with her teacher who, while meaning well, really did not have the tools for handling a fragile kid. After a week of daily calls, emails, and zoom meetings that left me in tears I realized that going hard at the problem until it was solved wasn’t going to be sustainable. The situation was too vulnerable, the work too hard. It was exhausting. I felt like a video game character swinging a sword at a bad guy whose strength is too powerful for her level. I was becoming emotional and reactive during meetings just because I was so burnt out from the constant interaction. The crisis my daughter was going through was already wearing me out at home; the helpful meetings were draining me of the energy I needed to be a good wife and mom. My introverted self needed help setting limits so I could do my best for my daughter. 

Dr. Henry Cloud and Dr. John Townsend, authors of the book Boundaries say that;

“A boundary shows me where I end and someone else begins, leading me to a sense of ownership. Knowing what I am to own and take responsibility for gives me freedom.”

Source

If I know I’m introverted and that introversion makes it harder for me to advocate for my children I can figure out what I can do to care for myself to make my job less of a drain on my mental and physical resources. If I’m constantly psyching myself up to make the first move, talking endlessly with people who are supposed to help but throw up roadblocks instead, and answering endless questions (backed up with medical and educational documentation, of course), what needs to happen to ensure not only a healthy recovery but keeps my social energy levels sustainable?  In thinking and praying about what I needed most, the word that kept popping up was “limits.”

My boundaries for protecting my introverted self mean limiting what I can reasonably manage each day (apart from emergency situations when it’s all hands on deck until the emergency ends). During those crisis days, I could make two or three phone calls, check email once in the morning and once in the late afternoon, and then I could stop. I could schedule meetings at times of day when I was well fed and rested. I could listen to Icona Pop and Ludacris in the car on the way to meetings to hype myself up. I could remind myself that this would be hard, but I could rest afterwards. I talked to myself as part of my meeting warm up:  Okay, Lydia, you’ve got this. You’re going to get a hospital home bound care, you’re going to get extended time, you’re going to get a tutor, you’re going to get a reentry plan. And then I’d go home and have a Coke on the patio without feeling guilty. 

My daughter’s crisis is over. She’s recovering well, and started at a new school this month. A new school means working with a new team, and while I’m not looking forward to having to do it all over again, the limits I placed on myself keep my introverted energy levels stable. I can contact the new counselor without it totally draining me for the rest of the day. I have little tricks up my sleeve to make myself feel better about meetings. I don’t feel like I have to keep going without a break anymore just to get the unpleasantness over with faster. Introverts and extroverts both need those breaks–nothing good comes from a burnt out mom. Keeping up with my boundaries makes me a better advocate for my kids and respects my own need for mental rest. I hope my fellow introverts can find their own ways to set limits so they can shore up their strength. We can celebrate our success in our own comfy chairs in the quiet of our own homes