“Oversharing felt like taking the bullets out of the gun that I knew would inevitably hurt me.”
A simple note to myself Jun 1 of last year.
It’s hard to imagine a more ironic beginning of a blog post, talking about oversharing.
I could go on about Gen Z’s unsettling ability to overshare. A girl I work with shares her inner most thoughts with anyone in her vicinity seemingly ad nauseam.
and I mean AD NAUSEAM. I could talk about the times I’ve felt the shift in a room when I share the wrong things. But who does that really serve? My confused self? Barely.
The original source of this thought was spurred on by a podcast conversation with a well respected psychologist saying “____ is just removing the bullets from the gun you think is meant to hurt you.” and man that hit me.
It wasn’t directly related to my situation but it spoke to me immediately. Oversharing was a way of removing the bullets from the gun I didn’t want to hurt me. I’d had that hurt happen often enough, and I hated the feeling of keeping a secret so private that it controlled me. Afterall, being no-contact with your own mom is kid of a big thing, societally. Once I heard that line I sat with it for a while.
Over time that realization was such a benefit. It allowed me to take a step back and hold that whole reality as it related to the world around me with peace. I didn’t have to tell anyone why I was no-contact. I didn’t need a reason. My reasons were not excuses. I didn’t need to start a conversation about it. I didn’t need to justify it. I didn’t need to beg people to listen. My healing was more important, and I couldn’t heal further if I made it such a focal point of my identity.
Whew! That felt good to realize.
I’m going to talk about it with people when/if the situation arises. I’m going to keep blogging. But I am free from feeling like I have to share this part of my life.
The gun is empty, but more importantly, I’m not in rooms with weapons anymore.
Love & Hugs,
The Mild Millennial
The Mild Millennial 