1. Truth: Being an introverted hsp makes some things more difficult. Having a conversation for me can be hard. Either someone is trying to make small talk with me, which is hard for me to do while remaining calm and focused, or they want to have a deep conversation with me but won’t give me the space or time I need to process. People often don’t understand or respect my boundaries. Calling someone on the phone to make an appointment or request is the worst! Then there’s going to said appointment, also awful. Having too many things scheduled in a day or a week can be overwhelming. Combine any of these things with loud noises or other variations of environmental chaos and I’m wrecked.

2. Truth: I’m learning to be more gentle with myself. To give myself what I need to prepare for the kinds of things that are harder for me, and to recover from them once done, or to even say “no” if I just can’t. I’m also working on not giving myself a hard time for being “special.” I need what I need, am who I am, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

3. Truth: Sometimes being an introverted hsp is my superpower. In particular as a teacher, I’m able to hold space for my students and what they need, to withhold judgment about it. I think in general I’m a more compassionate person because of it, more patient and loving and sensitive. Even though it sometimes complicates things for me, I’m usually able to see the bigger picture, understand how all the bits and parts are working together. The intensity with which I process things, contemplate and see patterns, helps me to cultivate a deeper understanding. I’m tenacious and don’t like to give up.

One wish: May we cultivate self-awareness, and may that clarity translate to less suffering in the world. May our understanding of our own temperament, our strengths and struggles, make us more compassionate and wise, towards ourselves and others. “What if, right now, we used our human powers of compassion, clarity, gratitude, praise? What if we did it together—opened all those closed doors inside us? What if we let the opening do what opening does?” (from Manifesto, a poem by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer).

In both yoga classes I taught this week, I talked about how here in Fort Collins, we had a very short fall season before our first snow came and then another big snow hit and we went straight to winter, without the usual lingering color and warmth of fall. Then on Sunday, we moved our clocks, which always takes me (and in particular my dogs) a few weeks to adjust to. The dogs want to still eat at the “regular” time, which is now 4 am, and I walk around asking “yeah, but what time is it really?” and feeling generally wonky.

It’s very confusing, unsettling. It can be hard to regain our balance, our stability, our ground. In times like these, it’s good to honor your need for gentleness, allow yourself extra time and space, give yourself whatever you require to feel some sense of comfort and strength, seeking out whatever support might help bring you back to center.

I shared a quote with my students this morning, a few paragraphs from one of Jena Schwartz’s latest blog posts, Some Words of Encouragement for Regular People. This class in particular loves to be read a poem or quote, either at the beginning of class or the end, (or sometimes both). The way I choose what to share isn’t very scientific. It’s actually a pretty random system — I see or read something that touches me or reminds me of them and I share it at our next class, maybe even theme the whole class around it.

And maybe this is related, or maybe the only connection is that it’s also part of my narrative, but I was paying two bills this morning, the only two I have that still require I send a check. I get paperless statements in my email, but my payment requires at least the first page of the statement in order for my payment to be applied. I’m out of printer paper, so I’ve been printing on the backs of recycled paper. When I printed out the statements this morning, I used paper that had poems on the back side. It makes me happy to imagine the surprise for the human on the receiving end — at work, processing payments for a credit card company, opening my envelope and finding a poem. My wish is that whoever they are, it’s the exact poem they needed today, that it makes them feel somehow better.