So my husband gets irate, I seriously mean irate, when I ask him this question: “What are you thinking about?”
He’s contemplative. He needs time to think and digest it so he knows what he, well . . . thinks.
I am an external processor, he’s internal. He doesn’t want to share every single thought with me. And yes, it took a while to not take this as a slam.
But oh my word . . . this summer, he sent this little skit to me while the kids and I were in Florida and I laughed so hard the kids came running in from the pool to be sure I was OK.
It’s just so true.
So now, when Jason is off in Contemplative Land, I know he’s in his “nothing box” and just let him be.
I’ll take my connected-to-everything brain and go talk to other people who have a connected-to-everything brain: my girlfriends.