To Share or Not to Share

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Abstract

uming that they love what I love too.I’m pretty sure I come across like a mother who wants to fatten everybody up with her incredible cooking. She stuffs food in your mouth whether you want it or not. I do the same thing with a platter full of concepts, ideas, knowledge, or advice. Is there such a thing as compulsive sharing?And then, one day, I had a very sad epiphany. (Yes, epiphanies can be painful.)A few months ago, my grandson explained in great detail his favorite computer game. I tried to look like I genuinely cared as I listened to all the intricacies of his latest diversion. After a couple of minutes, he asked, “Grandma, you don’t care about this much, do you?” He had caught me red-handed, and I replied, “Well, no. But I do care that you’re so excited about it. I guess I must be too old to understand this new-fangled gaming world.” (I play the “I’m-too-old-card” a lot these days.)And then it hit me. My glaring ignorance was shattered. My 10-year-old grandson taught me something I should have come to terms with long ago.My life of unsolicited sharing and advice-giving was brutally clear. I frequently chatter on and on to an audience who may not care about the subjec

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t matter. (Either I have very kind friends, or I’m inept at deciphering non-verbal cues.)I can’t believe it took me so long to realize that people aren’t always desirous or even the slightest bit interested in my offerings. No doubt, this was one nasty “aha.”Here comes the most distressing part: I have been blind to this for over 50 years! I started to mentally reenact all the times I have rambled on and on and asked myself, “How many times do you suppose listeners were saying to themselves, ‘I wonder if she knows how much I just don’t care.’ Or worse, ‘When will she please stop.’” A few (and you know who you are) may even have used choice expletives.Now that I am aware of this, I find myself feeling anxious about sharing my words. But the good news? My relationships are improving. Duh.To be candid, thinking BIG thoughts is my favorite diversion, and I miss sharing them.And this is why I write. I need listeners. I want to share myself without worrying someone is bored or feeling obligated to listen to me. Right now, it is a great comfort to know that you are listening to my reflections.A deep-felt thank you for reading!</article></body>

Is There Such a Thing as Compulsive Sharing?

I’m not always eager to share what many might think. In truth, I’m quite stingy about doling out my possessions. You know, things like time, energy, or money. Unfortunately, few seldom ask me to share what I genuinely crave to give away: my countless thoughts, ideas, or wise counsel.

For as long as I can remember, when I am reading an interesting article, book, or have an “aha” moment, the first thing that comes into my head is, “Hmm, I wonder who might like this.”

I love to share thought-provoking reads or impart analysis and knowledge that might make a difference. I even feel a bit incomplete if I can’t share it with someone.

I am one of those readers that can’t wait to tell a friend, “You must read this! It is fascinating! You will love it!” I would happily lend or give books as gifts to my friends, assuming that they love what I love too.

I’m pretty sure I come across like a mother who wants to fatten everybody up with her incredible cooking. She stuffs food in your mouth whether you want it or not. I do the same thing with a platter full of concepts, ideas, knowledge, or advice. Is there such a thing as compulsive sharing?

And then, one day, I had a very sad epiphany. (Yes, epiphanies can be painful.)

A few months ago, my grandson explained in great detail his favorite computer game. I tried to look like I genuinely cared as I listened to all the intricacies of his latest diversion. After a couple of minutes, he asked, “Grandma, you don’t care about this much, do you?” He had caught me red-handed, and I replied, “Well, no. But I do care that you’re so excited about it. I guess I must be too old to understand this new-fangled gaming world.” (I play the “I’m-too-old-card” a lot these days.)

And then it hit me. My glaring ignorance was shattered. My 10-year-old grandson taught me something I should have come to terms with long ago.

My life of unsolicited sharing and advice-giving was brutally clear. I frequently chatter on and on to an audience who may not care about the subject matter. (Either I have very kind friends, or I’m inept at deciphering non-verbal cues.)

I can’t believe it took me so long to realize that people aren’t always desirous or even the slightest bit interested in my offerings. No doubt, this was one nasty “aha.”

Here comes the most distressing part: I have been blind to this for over 50 years! I started to mentally reenact all the times I have rambled on and on and asked myself, “How many times do you suppose listeners were saying to themselves, ‘I wonder if she knows how much I just don’t care.’ Or worse, ‘When will she please stop.’” A few (and you know who you are) may even have used choice expletives.

Now that I am aware of this, I find myself feeling anxious about sharing my words. But the good news? My relationships are improving. Duh.

To be candid, thinking BIG thoughts is my favorite diversion, and I miss sharing them.

And this is why I write. I need listeners. I want to share myself without worrying someone is bored or feeling obligated to listen to me. Right now, it is a great comfort to know that you are listening to my reflections.

A deep-felt thank you for reading!