About Belonging (As an Introvert)

My bare feet pad along aged carpet.

Brody is curled into his covers, his room is already darkened. His blond hair is shocking amidst a sea of blues – blankets and pillows and lovies in every possible shade – sky, cornflower, navy.

I pull him close, and we puzzle piece, his head against my chest. “Sweet dreams, buddy.” I whisper. He smiles back. His eyes bright, but ready for nap time.

He has to be.

Because as the sun reaches its high, I reach my low.

***

Today I’m at my friend Katie’s place finishing this post about what empties me, and how I refill.

About finding belonging as an introvert, because that can feel tricky.

(And also, about why I nap.)

Please come visit me at Katie’s – she’s honest and true and you’ll want to hug her immediately – and tell me what makes you tick. What drains you? How do you recharge?

See you there! xo

Word of mouth is the absolute best thing that can happen for anything, really. Please help me get the word out about:

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