A friend of mine once blogged about how she can be misperceived as a bitch or uncaring. She too is an introvert and she described how at work she was so consumed by her work that she totally didn’t noticed someone trying to talk to her. This turned into a complaint to her supervisor and a complete shock to her. As an introvert I can completely relate to how that must have made her feel. Introverts are often misunderstood. Sometimes a long pause means we are trying to come up with the perfect non insulting caring thoughtful empathetic response possible. Then the moment passes and nothing was said. Introverts are typically quite empathetic so to think you might have hurt someone’s feelings can cause lots of anguish. Sometimes I let my guard down, I’m with friends, we’re laughing, I start to open up more and not thinking threw every response with a fine tooth comb. But then the next day I replay everything I said over and over again wondering if I insulted or hurt anyone or possibly said the wrong thing. It can be agonizing. And to think that she might be feeling like somehow she’s not a good person really made me feel bad. We have been friends our entire lives. We always got along (probably because we understand each other) and I have always thought of her as an incredible, thoughtful, creative friend. I would call her a sister but sisters fight and we don’t. So I’m thinking about her agonizing, possibly feeling guilty, about this small act that happened at work. And all I could think is that she has done small acts that had a huge positive impact and how I just want her to know that, because she probably doesn’t.

I will never forget it.
My father had passed (I was 11). I’m not going to go into too many details at this time about that but most of that week was spent with me sitting alone in a chair watching my mother being comforted by loved ones, and me being told to go play with my cousins and to be strong for my mother. At the end of the week, at the end of the church procession, standing alone near the church steps watching my fathers casket being taking away, watching my mother being comforted and trying to be strong. My best friend walked up to me and gave me the strongest, longest hug I ever got. I broke down, she didn’t say anything just held me. It is the most compassionate moment I remember from that time. One small act had a huge impact. And that is how I think of her. Compassionate, thoughtful, strong, caring friend. And an amazing artist to boot.
Always have, always will. I couldn’t tell her that because it would be lame, but I can write it, hope she reads it, and probably never speak of it again.