Go ahead, try it. I dare you. Try to go twenty-four hours without complaining. I am incapable. I've tried several times. And I don't consider myself a real, true complainer (you know the type). Although regular readers of my blog may beg to differ, seeing as how I can sometimes rant on for upwards of five hundred words. However, being a whiner is not the way I would, or want to, define myself.
We're raising our kids to not be complainers. Whining is not
tolerated in our house. And we put-up with very little drama. This is
not just because it's all so annoying. (But it is mostly because it's
all so annoying.) It's about the power of attraction. Complaining is a
form of attention-getting for all the negative things in your life. And
who wants to attract more negatives into their lives?
It doesn't sound very hard, does it? Just stop complaining. Yet the dictionary defines the verb "complain" as:
1. to express dissatisfaction, pain, uneasiness, censure, resentment, or grief; find fault.
2. to tell of one's pains, ailments, etc.: to complain of a backache.
3. to make a formal accusation.
By this definition, it would mean most of us would have to cease all
conversation completely. Just listen, the next time you're having a
conversation. As a fiction writer, I know stories aren't interesting
unless they involve conflict, and complaining is a form of describing
conflict, I suppose, but maybe we should come up with a better way to
make our stories interesting (colorful, fictitious names for the
As any good new age woo-hoo knows, the first step in fixing a problem
is recognizing you have one and I began to notice how much complaining I
was actually doing. I'd find myself dumping all the negative
experiences I'd had during the day on my poor husband night after night.
I don't know if it was even conscious or not, this need for me to vent
as a way to release all the negativity, but recently it occurred to me:
Maybe I am a complainer. Not wanting to attract any more
negativity into my life, I decided it might be a good idea for me to
stop complaining about stuff. (A great idea, says the husband.)
It didn't sound too hard. Until I tried it. When I was paying
attention, I realized so much of what I said could be construed as a
complaint. I found myself hacking my watch to restart my
24-hour-no-complaining-clock every fifteen-minutes. Finally, I just gave
up, vowing simply to try to do better.
Of course I'm disappointed in my
inability to stop completely, but I suppose I shouldn't complain about
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