Loosely connected thoughts on blogs, speaking up, venting, grouchiness, and when to say nothing
Years ago, when I first started writing in this blog, my Dad wisely pointed out to me that whatever I write here becomes history. It becomes permanent in a way that telling the same stories in conversation is not. He recommended to me that I make sure what I write is how I want things to be remembered. It is wise advice. “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all” is also wise advice. Or there is the doctor’s oath to “first do no harm.” I’m not a doctor, but I try to follow it, particularly here on my blog. But then I think of a line from the 2005 version of Mr. and Mrs. Smith. It is where she says “There is this space between us that keeps filling up with all the things we don’t say to each other.” That also feels true and wise. If we never say anything that isn’t nice, we isolate ourselves. If we can’t talk honestly about our negative emotions then we can’t have close relationships.
I struggle with this. There are times when I must speak up and say things that I know will hurt. I try to pick the time and the words carefully do lessen the damage, but I can’t always. Particularly not with the kids. When I’m in an emotionally laden conversation I will construct and discard dozens of sentences for every one that I utter. I try to do the least damage possible because, to me, relationships are far more important than convincing others that I am right. Fortunately I have learned that I can not be a doormat an have healthy relationships, so I’m fully capable of standing up for myself when necessary. Unfortunately sometimes my mind races so fast with the sentence construction and discarding, that I fail to realize that I’ve not said anything at all. My lack of words can feel like a wall of silence to the other person. The good news is that most of the time the other person is Howard, who has already learned of my tendency. He’s learned how to poke me and let me know if he needs a response. I’ve learned to say “I’m trying to find the right words” rather than saying nothing.
All of that is a precursor to me saying that I’m grouchy tonight. I had a very nice day, but the post-dinner hours walloped me hard. Part of me wants to rant about all the specifics of the pile of little things that made me grouchy this evening. But if I rant about specifics, it may get back to people who might feel bad about contributing to my grouchy evening. I doubt any of them read my blog now, but at some future time they might, and the ranting entry will still be here, laying in wait like a piece of broken glass on a beach full of bare feet. Sometimes I think it is a marvel that I blog at all considering all the fretting I do about possible future harm to feelings. I do comment on the behaviors of the kids, but I try to make sure it is in such a way that it will not be hurtful. Besides by the time they read these blogs, they’ll have grown into much different people and they will laugh with me saying “I really did that?” In fact the kids enjoy hearing blog stories from when they were younger. Or so I tell myself. But perhaps I am wrong and then we’re back to broken glass and bare feet.
In the end my real guide is asking myself why I’m posting a certain thing. I need to never post with the intent to hurt or humiliate. Venting is often emotionally necessary, but ranting often stirs up more anger than it resolves. I do rant as part of a venting process, but I try not to record it for history because I don’t want to come back and invoke those same feelings again by re-reading. I want to vent, let go, and move on. Besides there are many ways to vent. I’ve written this whole entry without mentioning a single specific thing that annoyed me this evening, but I feel much better. I’m not sure why that works, but for me it does.