Thank you to Tammy for leading me to this story, Tiny Oily Halos which inspired me to not skip writing today.
I am an oversharer. Not the gruesome-details-of-a-medical-procedure type, more of a let-me-tell-you-my-life-story type. Actually, if you’ve read some of my previous blog posts, this might seem pretty obvious: my life is an open book.
“To reciprocate, to impress her with my own candor, I overshared too.” This is a line from Tiny Oily Halos. It stood out to me because I’ve found myself in the opposite predicament. Sometimes when I’m with someone who tends to keep their cards close to the vest, I’m inspired to be less open. Maybe I shouldn’t share all that stuff about my biological mom…
I try to keep certain details out of the conversation, hold onto some of my secrets. Inevitably, I fail, and I find myself talking about yet another aspect of my life that perhaps, could be embarrassing or incriminating even. I used to think this was a really positive trait of mine. My openness helped others feel comfortable, open up themselves. But recently, a therapist told me that sometimes oversharing keeps people from really knowing you. Mind blown. It makes sense though, and now I’ll be thinking about how to share for real.
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