Oversharing

On Tuesday, Matt and I had a couples therapy session, and I had a complete meltdown. I've avoided writing about it until now, but if I put it off any longer, I won't be able to analyse it properly. What happened was basically this: Matt brought up an issue he had with me, and I felt blind-sided by it. What he said was that he gets uncomfortable when I "over-share" about the problems in our life with our/his friends. Specifically, he brought up two situations in which he'd felt embarrassed by the fact that I went into detail about some of the problems we've been having with bedbugs and with our health after our friends asked, "How's it going?"

Oh, gods. I embarrassed him. I am an embarrassment. I thought I was over this. I am definitely on the spectrum for Asperger's, but I thought I had conquered most of that. I thought I'd adapted well enough that I wasn't going to be an embarrassment in public. Apparently, I have not. This troubled me deeply. Have I gone back to rambling on about things when people aren't really interested, and don't really want to know? Have I regressed to the point where I can't gauge people's reaction accurately any more? Does someone have to slap me with a clue-by-four to get me to shut up?

It's paradoxical, because on the one hand, I'm very introverted, slow to get into group conversations. When someone asks me a personal question, I almost feel privileged. Wow, someone actually cares about what I have been going through! I must tell them everything! I've made a friend!

But... of course, it isn't really like that. When someone asks, "How are you doing?" they don't actually want to know. It's just an automatic greeting, like "Hello." But "Hello" is not a question. When someone says, "How's it going?" I'm usually honest. And if things are going poorly, I say so. And I explain why. I have been labouring under the delusion that people want an explanation. They don't. Conversations in public, for normal people, are scripted. They go like this:

Person A: "Hi! How are you?"
Person B: "Good! How about you?"
Person A: "Great! Just out getting coffee. What are you up to today?"
Person B: "Nothing much, just out and about, got some shopping to do later."
Person A: "Cool! Well, nice seeing you. Call me sometime."
Person B: "Sure, will do. Have a good day!"

Conversations in public for people like me have the potential to go like this:

Person A: "Hi! How are you?"
Me: "Oh, pretty good, been stressed about some stuff. My back hurts. I got this injection last week and it didn't really do anything for me except give me mood swings. And we're still dealing with the bed bugs, and Matt's been out of town a lot lately, and I've been depressed and anxious and stuff over that stuff, but you know, otherwise, good. I'm doing okay today. How are you?"
Person A: ... ... ... "Um, I'm doing good. Yeah. Sorry you have to deal with all that."
Me: "I know, I just want things to level out, you know, be a little bit more normal. And I totally need a cigarette right now."
Person A: ... "Well, I gotta go. See ya later."
Me: "See ya!"

This comes from a desperate need to be understood and accepted. A need to vent, a need to have support, and even a need to have an excuse for my behavior if I ever do something weird in front of said person. Except, I've already done something weird, so they're put off. I actually had someone unfriend me on Facebook, not because they didn't like me, but because they didn't want to read posts about my personal stuff all the time. And seriously, I thought I was over this. I'm not, obviously, and it's causing my husband stress and embarrassment, and that's a nightmare to me.

This also stems from a need to "lay all my cards on the table" when meeting someone new. I think, "I want this person to know exactly what I'm all about right away. If they can accept me despite all my issues, then they'll be a real friend. If not, I'll just scare them off right now, and they weren't worth it to begin with." Welllllll... most people aren't going to respond well to this approach. I'm reminded of a lady at the coffee house I usually go to, who constantly spills all of her problems to absolutely any complete stranger who gives her half a glance. I think, "I'm not like that!" But maybe I am more like that than I think. And that scares me.

The other thing that bothered me was that he'd waited until our therapy session to tell me this stuff. This is a huge, huge trigger for me. If someone is bothered by something that I do, I would rather they tell me right away, so I can stop doing it. Even if I get a little upset at the time, I'll deal with it, and it will be resolved. If you don't tell me that I'm being annoying and/or inconsiderate, I can't read your mind. I don't know to stop the behaviour. I lost two of my exes because of this, including my ex-husband. They were afraid to confront me about things. Resentment built up, until all of a sudden, one day, they told me they wanted me gone because of X, Y and Z that I was doing that they couldn't deal with.

Like my therapist said, I'm not perfect. I don't think Matt expects me to be perfect, but he needs to step up and tell me stuff at the time so I can either modify my behaviour or explain to him at our earliest convenience what was going on and why I did whatever I did. I am afraid that there are other things that bother him that he is not telling me for fear of confronting me and making me feel bad, and that this will lead to the same kind of resentment that destroyed my other relationships.

While he confronted me about my over-sharing in session, I shut down. I went almost catatonic. I stared at the floor. I was non-verbal for a few minutes, and when I did say something, I sounded like I was 14 years old yelling at my mother. I wasn't 35-year-old Morgan. I was 14-year-old Heather. And I was envisioning myself cutting. The entire time. I could see the blade being dragged across my skin. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You are so stupid. How could you do this? You're a disappointment. You're an embarrassment. You deserve to be punished. You deserve pain.

It got to the point where I left the session, because I could not contribute anything useful in the state I was in. I was angry and scared and hurt. I felt cornered, felt threatened, felt like I was in trouble and being made to stand in a corner. None of those things were actually happening. No one was berating me or telling me I was useless or stupid. That all came from the child within hearing her parents' voices.

I don't want to make excuses. I don't want to chalk it up to some outside factor and just let it go. However, I do believe the steroidal injection I received last week has altered my moods significantly. Yes, I have some things to be stressed about, but my emotional response has been way out-of-proportion to the situations at hand ever since that needle went in. (Adding insult to injury is the fact that my back has actually felt worse since the treatment, but that's neither here nor there.) I guess I am just hoping that enough of this is chemical that it will get better as the drugs move their way out of my system. If it's chemical, it is beyond my conscious control. Right?

Problem is, I can't find a balance. The shame prevents me from doing so. I am either Morgan-the-Annoying-Overhsaring-Person or I shut up and remain seen, but not heard, around Matt's friends. Don't say anything at all. Lie, if you have to. "Hey, how are you?" "Great! How about you?"

Stupid, stupid, stupid girl. Just shut up. No one wants to listen to your whining. Just kill yourself. You'll be doing everyone a favour. Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!!!

... Get back in the moment. Who am I? I am Morgan. How old am I? I am 35 years old. Where am I? I'm at a coffee house with my husband, Matt. The couch is comfortable and the room is a little bit twee, with pictures of flowers and birds on the walls. It's bright and sunny outside and the weather is fairly cool. I am drinking a pumpkin chai latte. There is no Sword of Damocles hanging over my head. I am not in trouble. I can enjoy myself today and not worry that something will ruin it. Even if something bad happens later, it can't negate the good things that happen.

I am grateful for this moment. I am grateful for the opportunity to express myself. I am grateful for my self-awareness, and for lessons learned. I am grateful for Matt's patience. I am grateful for the friends I have who love me despite my quirks.

I will attempt to relegate my over-sharing to this journal from now on. If people want to read it, they will. If they don't, they won't. I'm really not sure what to do otherwise. I feel shame for screwing up a session, shame for being an embarrassment, shame for not catching this sooner. Shame isn't productive. It's a useless emotion that has absolutely no practical use. Unfortunately, I am having a hard time letting go.