Earlier this week, I wrote about the art of temper tantrums by both kids and adults. Now I want to write about the art of the overshare and battling the subsequent anxiety.
Because I am an expert in the former, and a warrior of the latter.
I’ve been actively and avidly oversharing since I was a small child. The adults around me speculated a number of possibilities for what they termed “flamboyance” and “melodrama”: I was bored in school (I was), I had a chemical imbalance (I did not, but damn if I didn’t get put on Ritalin and almost die from an allergic reaction to it, anyway), I was just plain bad (I wasn’t). At school, I acted up. At home, I stayed in my room. At my grandparents’ houses, I entertained and imagined and played.
I learned quickly that I was expected, as a child and as a female, to internalize rather than verbalize. And I didn’t like it, so I didn’t do it. Untrue—I definitely internalized some things. Like a feeling of worthlessness, a perpetual inability to please anyone, an unlovability I was becoming more and more sure of as I neared college. Continue reading