Sick of me

In case it escaped you, I haven’t really written a truly dedicated blog entry for a while. This is because I’ve been too busy complaining.

The last three weeks have been out of character for me. Generally speaking, it’s not in my nature to complain.

It began with the rain. Then, unexpected complications indirectly related to a home remodel; a series of irritating work related events and catching a bad cold. All this led to tentative, recreational complaining. Suddenly, there were more things to complain about. Which caused insomnia. Which resulted in me complaining about sleep deprivation.

It all peaked on February 14, when I realized late in the day that I had done nothing but complain from the second I got up until that evening. I got so sick of listening to myself I would have left me if I’d had the option.

So here is what I have discovered:

That complaining is obsessing about the negative, and that the more I focus on the negative the more negative I see. This habit grows deep roots fast.

That by putting into words (an insatiable, exhausting ocean of words) what I don’t want; I neglect to put into words what I do want.

Whenever Luca would say “Jeez, hon, really. Lighten up!” I’d respond “well, isn’t it healthier to vent than to keep it all in?”

Here is my reply to that: that I have wasted vast amounts of precious energy, because I let off just enough steam to release the power that propels me to do something about it. I’ve complained myself into paralysis.

So that’s it. I’ve had it. I’m in a complaint fast. And I’m going to start by not complaining about my complaining.

Photo: Real Simple Magazine