The extrovert in me is most happy when I put the paintbrush in my hand. She says everything that I can't, that I am not even aware needs to be said. She and I have been struggling lately, trying to figure out who should have the most freedom. I have been censoring her, forcing her to be quiet, to be careful of the things that she lets out. But her complaining is growing louder, more insistent. I'm seeing the signs of her more and more and for the first time in a long time, a sense of balance is returning.