I complain, therefore I am!
When I was around 10 years old, I was an adorably ample and precocious sapling...and while on a March-break getaway my father informed me rather bluntly, after clearly reaching his ear-quota, that I was always complaining and to give it a rest. Well, this was a bit of a shocker to me - I had never really considered my delightfully relentless stream of keen observations to be complaints. I was mortified, and no doubt, undeterred (although I’m sure my six minutes of silent retaliatory pouting was a relief to all). However, for the first time, I had become aware of complaining, and those words have (evidently) stayed with me all these years. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t stop complaining - I just got more artful about it. By making my complaints more irrefutably hilarious (***NB: not “irrefutable” in the strictest sense), I eventually became more socially tolerable (by eventually, I mean by about three weeks ago). And now you know how I became the celebrated raconteur I am today! (*cue cricket noises followed by a smattering of sporadic dry coughs)
It wasn’t until recent years that I pointedly began to ponder what the frappé all the complaining was about, and what in the name of Irmgard I was getting out of it. (the password is...bupkus)
Now, I’m painfully aware of the absurd irony of actually complaining about complaining, so there’s no need to complain to me about said complaint...and I’m not complaining about YOUR complaining, I’m complaining about MY complaining. ‘Cause MY complaints, blissfully, are the only complaints I can do anything about. And I have no complaints about that!
Complaining is, for me as it is for many, a pesky habit. We look at a person, a thing, a situation, or a moment (and by “look at” I don’t necessarily mean in person, but in your beautifully-appointed brain-lounge) and immediately proclaim it to be sub-par. Insufficient. Not quite there yet, universe, but thanks for trying! Complaining is the expression of that dissatisfaction with the current moment. This expression can take many forms: it can be verbal, it can be a magnificently executed eye-roll, it can be an expertly-crafted passive-aggressive sigh...no matter the manifestation, the dismissal of what’s presented to us is the same. And it’s the dismissal that unceremoniously boots us out of our present moment-sweet-moment!
Most of the time, we don’t even think about it. Like an over-perused dating app, we reflexively swipe left on life, immediately convinced that what’s in front of us has little of value to offer (what else ya got, life??). We fast-forward to some eagerly-imagined, self-bedazzled future where happiness will finally take a Chevy-Chase-style pratfall into our deserving laps. Until then, just like we do with electronical dating prospects and Netflix shows, we’ll keep endlessly scrolling through life, listlessly rejecting moment after moment, certain that something “better” will turn up, and feeling like we’re the ones being rejected when nothing materializes that rises to our expectations! (NEXT!) We may not even know what our expectations are - we just know we’re hapless victims of an oftentimes stingy universe that seldom throws any Lucky 7’s our way. (one time a Lucky 7 WAS thrown my way, but one of the dice hit me right in the eye...even good fortune can sting a bit - JS)
Complaining is the party mix of conversation - so delicious at the time, but so salty you can’t get your rings on the next day. But why does it feel so flapjackin’ good sometimes?? To my high-flyin’ chicken brain, it delivers a fabulous but fleeting sense of superiority - a momentary sense of being in control. The object of my insightful complaint is beneath me, therefore I feel downright comfy in passing judgment! I know what’s what, and I’m gonna tell it like it is! (eg. these Sea-Monkeys do not resemble the charming depictions in the advertisement and my outrage MUST BE EXPRESSED) The thing is, when we go a-graspin’ at some semblance of control, you know there’s also some peevish poltergeist of insecurity haunting your belfry...but when you stand, firmly-planted, in some understanding of your own inestimable worth, the desperation of control and complaint evaporate. (much like the Sea-Monkey water does when you forget about them for several months under your bed)
Ultimately, sometimes we just want to feel like we exist. We will actually look for things to complain about, in order to justify the real estate we’re taking up. We want to prove our econo-staycation on planet Earth hasn’t been a complete bust by having something - anything - to say for ourselves. So we reach out, instinctively, to commiserate, ‘cause we adore commiserating with others; and there’s nothin’ like a good ol’ fashioned gripefest to help us confirm our complaints are valid. That we’re valid.
Well, BREAKING NEWS...we ARE valid! And THIS JUST IN...we DO exist! And where we truly exist, and where we’re most valid, is in the moment we’re in right now. You don’t even have to do anything to be valid...you just need to show up (even I can do that)!! So, if you feel the complainin’ urge, just show up as your beautiful, valid self, and take a closer look at where you are and what you’ve got in this moment! ‘Cause it’s downright plentiful (only 100% of the time)! Where complaining depletes you, and leaves you with a self-rejection hangover, gratitude energizes you and gets you excited about this moment, and the next moment, and the next! (WARNING: side effects while taking Gratitude may include tears of joy, uncontrollable giggling and the irresistible urge to hug people)
At the end of the day, we think we’re complaining because something or somebody has made us feel lousy...but in truth, it’s the complaining itself that makes us feel lousy. “Why’s that?, you ask, gentle reader? (PS, why are readers always assumed “gentle”? Is it the glasses?) Because when we complain, we put ourselves in the position of being a victim. A victim of whatever the flurp it is we’re complaining about - which, with habitual complaining, usually boils down to being a victim of life. And believing we’re a victim always diminishes us, even if we’re not consciously aware of it. And you better believe that continuous self-diminishing plays out in other parts of your life (excuse me, miss, where’s the low self-esteem aisle?). But hear ye, hear ye! You’re not a victim of life! You ARE life! And you look great in those glasses, too! Positively gentle!
But listen...if you’re really feelin’ like you need to vent, then for the love of gladiolas, VENT! LET IT OUT and then LET IT GO. But try not to turn it into a full one-person show with two performances a day. (unless you’re getting paid...then get that money, honey!) It’s like when you quit smoking, and suddenly notice how having a coffee or a pinot grigio makes you immediately crave a Matinee Slim - perhaps start by noticing where you find yourself complaining the most...if it’s with certain people, or certain places, or whenever Kenny G is playing in the background...see if you can catch yourself in the act! Then gently invite yourself back to where you are in that precise moment and see if that complaint doesn’t pale in comparison to the sweet smorgasbord that is your beautiful presence! It doesn’t stand a chance, I tells ya!!
Sometimes we complain because we like to reinforce the notion that good things in life aren’t meant for us. Over the years it becomes part of our origin story, and we actively seek out examples in the world to keep that false narrative alive. Please allow me to reassure you that not only are good things meant for you, you ARE the good thing that’s meant for you!! Being able to connect with you like this is certainly a good thing that’s meant for me! And I am GRATEFUL. In fact, I have no complaints about it whatsoever! And, coincidentally, I have no complaints about YOU! Truth be told, I adore you! Thanks for sharing these moments with me!! 💓💓💓