How Do You Manage the Fine Line Between Sharing and Oversharing?

Lessons from a reformed blabbermouth.

Photo by Anete Lusina: https://www.pexels.com/photo/woman-with-cross-symbol-on-mouth-5723267/

"Sharing all that stuff....does it actually make you feel better?" a friend inquired recently. Her clipped words were cautious, her expression serious, perhaps even disapproving. As her carefully chosen words hung in the air, a wave of shame began to form within me.

I couldn't deny it – I had a history of oversharing, blurring the lines of appropriateness with acquaintances, and delving into personal details with those I barely knew. This was back when I was in an abyss of my own making and wasn't conscious of how unhappy and out of tune I was with myself.

Conversations started ok, flowing from light banter about the weather to the weightier concerns of affording college for my kids and ultimately landing in a web of family complexities and coping with a mother with sociopathic tendencies.

Oops.

Alcohol often served as the lubricant for these perilous discussions.

My attempt at forging connections was treating new acquaintances as confidantes, but it came off as a desperate cry for help. Which it was.

Too much, too soon – a springboard for someone to swiftly exit after encountering me.

So when this friend hinted at how much I was putting out in Internet Land, I sifted through my reasons. I scrutinize what I put out there, especially knowing that my version of truth is subjective. But my story is as important as the next person's, and putting it out there is freeing.

On Substack, I have many role models who do just that.

I marvel at my friend,

Michele Maize

who writes so honestly about her decades of alcohol addiction. (Read her excellent newsletter from this week here.) She shares how she had to hide her alcoholism from her husband, kids, and friends. Most of all, she was hiding it from herself. When you finally break free from that, life’s a different experience altogether.

Perhaps you can relate – a transparent life, one not twisted from the weight of secrets, is the best way to live.

Secrets are not a currency I accept – they're too burdensome. What you see is what you get is so much better.

American poet and essayist Muriel Rukeyser once mused,

"What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life? The world would split open."

And while there's still plenty more I haven't shared, my friend's comment reminds me that navigating what to say and when has been a lifelong struggle.

My body reminds me every day of how brutally careful I've been.

To address worn-down nubby molars and pain from constant jaw clenching, the dentist sold me a $1,500 nightguard to prevent further damage. Identifying the cause of my grinding doesn’t add to my dentist’s cash flow. Maybe she prefers I just keep going?

So here I am at a loss on how to stop myself from my daily and nightly habits. The best I can do is notice when I’m doing it, which obviously doesn’t work when I’m asleep.

"When you keep secrets and suppress information, you are fundamentally at war with yourself," says Bessel van der Kolk in his celebrated book "The Body Keeps The Score."

I am in a war between my body and internal stressors. Mostly, it's a learned response from childhood that I haven't managed to get out from under. I’m sixty years old, and it’s about damn time that I figure out how to stop.

Instead, I go deeper.

Silencing myself has become even more imperative, reaching new heights of urgency as my family expands. With two sons-in-law and their respective families and grandkids, keeping my opinions to myself is a valuable tool for maintaining peace.

Given all the messes I've made, I question whether I have anything worthwhile to contribute anyway. My adult children are entitled to learn and grow from their mistakes. My life can serve as a cautionary tale for what not to do.

My motto is peace and unity above all, understanding that if our family can't manage it, neither can either party in the Middle East.

Everything starts at home. Let my good example begin now.

My deceased mother-in-law was a beautiful person who was superiorly kind and minded her words to a fault. I always felt so safe with her. Yet, she didn't get as much attention in the last few years of her life because she never told us what she needed. We definitely should have done a better job asking. If there was anybody who deserved our love and devotion, especially at the end when she needed us most, it was her.

Anyway, there's a line.

I accept that I can't say anything I want to. I'll never be that person who brags about speaking their mind no matter what. I'd rather be frugal with my words, knowing they can't get taken back once they're out there.

But unspoken thoughts must find outlets. Keeping it all in is why I suffer like I do, which is why I am working on alternative methods for processing and releasing emotions, like journaling, singing, painting, and screaming into pillows. (It would have been priceless if I had figured out how to put a GIF of someone screaming into a pillow right here!)

And if you can make sense of your struggles and help someone else, Substack newsletters work, too.

"Telling the truth about our personal lives is a generous thing to do. It changes the world. Even if the change is subtle, it matters. As a writer, you can communicate on such an intimate level. That can't be bad." Ariel Gore, as told to Book Slut.

Speaking truth through stories is how I give myself compassion for my mistakes. I've grown so much since those painful times, and I understand now why I lived that way. If I can look back and forgive myself, so can you. All it takes is a little introspection and courage to see what you see, and know what you know.

Do you bite your tongue or say it like it is? I'd love to hear how you navigate walking the line.

---

Thanks for your notes last week about our latest addition to the family. Here is a photo of both grandkids.

photo credit belongs to their mommy