Complain Jane

I went out to breakfast with my mom and my daughter. This used to be something I looked forward to, and certainly should have been, since I got to eat pancakes, but I was distracted by all the stupid, frustrating little things that happen in everyday life and I forgot to be excited. I rushed in, sat down and immediately started to complain. 

I’m not trying to brag, but I am really, really good at complaining. Seriously. And I am so good at it, that if you are new to my diabolical methods, I’ll totally ensnare you, spin you around, dip you, make you feel pretty and then take you down with me into the discouraging abyss of my own paddle-less creek.

Now, I don’t usually share my magical complaining formula, but I’m feeling a little reckless today:  I have a methodical way, a tried-and-true system that makes good use of the time I have with anyone at my mercy. I start with a question, a little hook for them, something like, “Omg, the weirdest shit happens to me!” or “Isn’t it amazing how you think you can’t take any more on? And then BOOM, here’s some more!”

(See, you have to start out like you are NOT complaining, but rather telling a fascinating story that your captive (trapped) audience does not want to miss.)

Then I start into a story, creatively crafted in my jerk brain, bitching about this little thing which makes a lovely segue into that little thing and so on. You don’t want them to be able to pinpoint when you began complaining, because you don’t want to lose your audience. When you’re a master complainer, your audience is like your oxygen and you need your oxygen to be to able to keep feeling sorry for yourself! Therefore, if you keep your complaining on the un-heavy side, you can sometimes grouse about your difficulties for upwards of a half hour at a time!

Most of the time, complaining is just complaining. Mind-numbing, boring, gets-old-quick complaining, which isn’t fun for anyone, especially for the people who have already heard it. But sometimes, it’s funny, and if I can get you to laugh, there’s no stopping me, which is what makes the game dangerous.

But good news. As proficient as I am at complaining, I am also pretty good at admitting my faults and being willing to look at myself honestly. And I will totally dig in and do the work it takes to learn my lessons.

And Goddess always provides those lessons just when I need them.

Like yesterday at breakfast. About 3 sentences into my coming tirade, I got a little “something” from the old HP (my Higher Power, not my printer. That’s too heavy to carry around). While I was talking, I looked at my mom and my daughter and in my mind’s eye they were inwardly rolling their eyes and saying, “Oh man, I don’t wanna listen to this again!” (Maybe they were, maybe they weren’t. I don’t know). It was a tiny moment, just a flash, really, but I knew I was being shown something important and that I needed to pay attention. I knew this was an opportunity to learn something.

I took a deep breath, decided to be present, and I stopped complaining. Instead, I spent my time conversing with these lovely women. I talked about some funny things that had happened. I laughed at their funnies. I asked questions and really listened to the answers. And you know what? Something extraordinary happened. I relaxed and found myself having a really good time. We sat there together, visiting and laughing for about 90 minutes and at the end of it, I felt refreshed and cheerful for the rest of the day! And really, how amazing is it that both my mom and my adult daughter want to spend time with me like that? Not every woman is as lucky as I am.

You see, I forgot. I forgot that even when things are hard, things can still be good. I forgot that laughing is medicine and it helps unclench my gut and it distracts my a-hole brain. I forgot that I get recharged from having good old everyday conversations with people that I love. And I forgot that there is something magical about the connection that happens when people really engage with each other.

My whole life, I have had a desperate desire not just to fit it, but to be part of things. I wanted people to want to be around me and want to engage with me because that’s how I get my emotional nutrition. I wanted it so badly and became so busy trying to find ways to get it, that I overlooked simple opportunities that were already there. It’s like looking for your phone while you’re talking on it or digging for your sunglasses when they are on top of your head. 

Sometimes you have to discuss unpleasant things, if only to process them or decide how to handle them and that’s ok. Sometimes it is nice to have someone help you reason things out. But complaining is just telling people (and yourself) the same old story and the more times you hear it, the harder it becomes to let go of it.

There is no magic formula. The magic is in the determination to remember that there are opportunities and, in the commitment to be open to them.

I don’t want to be a complainer. I want to be joyful and open and present. And the more I practice, the more adept I will become at making the choice not to complain. I want to be a woman who understands that it is my job to make sure I am nourished and to knows how to make sure my cup is filled. I want to be a woman who enjoys every single drop of connection and love, because ultimately, I think that is why I am here.

I’m only human. I will see opportunities to complain. Sometimes it will be really hard to resist the invitation to whine about my life, especially when things are hard or I come across a newbie who is not yet immune to my charms. I will fail. And I will hate that. I might even (probably) complain about the fact that I gave in and complained! It will be hard, but I’m betting my mom and my daughter and lots of other people will still love me, even when I fail. And I will continue to learn. Because that’s what I do.