Holding my Tongue

When I started this blog, I sort of had the idea that it would be my place to just vent.  To be catty and snarky and able to rant and rave with no repercussions.  Because I am raw, and reactive, and I lost my complaint confidante.  JP was the one who would let me relieve the pressure that builds up as a result of all the complaints I tend to have to lodge...

I figured I would unleash my inner Mean Girl in clever, sarcastic, entertaining fashion - airing my grievances about my mom, venting about friend drama, making witty remarks about my classmates...  I would be sure not to let anyone whose feeling might be hurt read the blog.  And if someone falling in that category did happen to peek in, they would be doing so at their own risk.  Hey, I warned them in my intro.  I announced that this was going to be a form of therapy for me.  Surely those people wouldn't ignore my request/warning.

Yeah, right.

I do still plan on venting.  I might even air some grievances when Festivus time rolls around, or when I can't bottle it up any longer.  But while it may not be a good idea to bottle up feelings and emotions, bitchiness and whining surely don't fall under those categories.  And I started thinking about some things.

Like how much I used to complain about stupid, insignificant things.  I remember JP asking me one time why I was so angry all the time.  And when I looked back at some of the emails I had saved (or, more accurately, neglected to delete) from the early part of our relationship, I am disgusted by myself.  Why on earth did JP put up with this crankypants whine-meister?  If whining about trivial matters was a competitive sport, I would have been the undisputed World Champion.

Since becoming a widow, I've learned the term DGI, which refers to "Don't Get Its" - people who don't understand the unique situation of widows (particularly young ones) and say the wrong things (not intentionally most of the time).  I was a Life DGI.  Young, completely untouched by life's painful realities.  Totally clueless.

I'm not that girl anymore.  Oh, sure, I still complain.  I have always admitted to taking pleasure in venting.  But I am going to try to reign in the nasty.  Try being the operative word...