GETTING IT OFF MY CHEST

REFLECTIONS

by Steve Liddick

You know how people say, “I don’t like to complain, but . . .?” Well, I don’t like to complain, Not just because it doesn’t do a bit of good to moan about this and that. No, I try to avoid complaining around other people because they don’t want to hear it. They have their own problems and don’t need to take on mine.

You want to kill a conversation, just start complaining about something—anything—and watch as people drift away from you. The more often a discouraging word is heard, the more cloudy the skies are all day.

Complaining takes many forms. Say you’re at a four-way stop intersection and some clodhopper pulls out in front you when it’s not his turn. You lay on your horn, make all kinds of specialty hand gestures, and scream nasty bits about the offender’s maternal parentage.

Who do the other two drivers at the intersection get upset with? Not the aforementioned clodhopper who cut you off. They stare white-hot daggers at the guy making the fuss. Nobody likes a complainer?

When people greet you with “Hi, how you doin’?” you are expected to say, “Great, how’re you?” Start unloading woes on them and watch as their eyes glaze over and they remember meetings they’re late for.

I am here to tell you that, while nobody wants to hear your beefs, it is injurious to one’s health to keep it all bottled up. Something has got to give. An outlet must be found for the steam that is building, threatening to explode your head.

Mental health professionals are of no use at all. In fact, when they say, “and how do you feel about that?” you know they’re not really listening and that just ticks me off that much more.

I can’t even get it out of my system by yelling at my wife. She knows where the frying pans are and I have to sleep sometime.

 

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One thought on “GETTING IT OFF MY CHEST

  1. You got it right, Steve, about the frying pan. I once shared a hospital post surgery room with a young woman from Vietnam. She said she wanted to teach me something her mother told her. That when a husband abuses you, always remember that they will eventually have to sleep and you get a cast iron frying pan and hit him on the head. She said her husband stopped abusing her after she did that a few times. Your comment brought back this 1975 memory.

    How do I clean myself out with negative thoughts and complaints? I write a poem. My pen is my personal therapist. In The Book of Joy by Dalai Lama and Archbishop Tutu….one day a driver cut in front of Archbishop Tutu and almost caused an accident. Tutu told himself a story: His wife must be having a baby, maybe his mother is dying, etc. And he blessed him.

    Rid your house of all cast iron pots and pans….

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