I subscribe to a few blogs where the author has broken out of their silent shell, finally finding a voice that is sparkling and true. It’s not easy sharing something as personal as one’s self ― especially if that “self” has been suppressed for longer than one can imagine. I appreciate their efforts to finally let the world know who they are.
I, on the other hand, suffer from Italktoomuchitis.
I don’t remember when I contracted this disease. It certainly wasn’t in grade school (too ugly), nor high school (too busy trying to get pinned). I worked in downtown Chicago for a PR department, but trust me, it was far from glamorous…or talkative. ( I was rather submissive in those days.) Found love, got married and had babies. I didn’t think of myself as overly verbal back then. But now I wonder — when did I become so…chatty?
Chatty is a relative word. Those of us old enough can remember the “Chatty Cathy” doll. Pull her string and she’d say a half dozen things. What a novel idea at the time. For those of you a bit younger, this phenomenon was a highlight in Steve Martin’s tirade in Planes, Trains and Automobiles: “It’s like going on a date with a Chatty Cathy doll. I expect you have a little string on your chest, you know, that I pull out and have to snap back. Except I wouldn’t pull it out and snap it back – you would. Gnah..gnah…” Well, I’m beginning to think I’m that doll — and I’m the one pulling the string.
These last few years I think I’ve carried the chatty thing a bit too far. One question and everybody knows what I had for dinner last night, why I think my cousin’s child is out of control, the cramps I had this morning, and how much my dentist charged for root canal. I spill my son’s secrets to his wife, and tell my customers not to buy today for it goes on sale tomorrow. What is wrong with me? Since when have I become this effervescent fount of non-interesting information? I find I want to respond to everything. I have an answer for everything. Whether or not it’s informed. I find I have little patience for opinions other than mine, and need to comment on every and all things that come my way. Fortunately, I keep my mouth shut most of the time, but believe me, sometimes it’s a struggle.
I wonder if it’s that old person syndrome. You know ― the older you get, the less you care about what others think. That seemed like such a cliché when I was younger. All those old fogies saying what they want to, not caring if they offend this person or that. Most over 70 were a little crotchety and unreasonable, but hey, maybe they just weren’t thinking straight. Pre-Alzheimer’s and such.
As I got older I started to get where they were coming from. Now that I’m teasing the 60 mark, I’m finding those outspoken 70-year-olds weren’t so far off the mark after all. Having spent a lifetime trying to get my thoughts and opinions across to others, I can see why caution is thrown to the wind and oldies say just what they think. I’ve been questioned and second-guessed more times than you can count; I’ve been unsure of my choices and bothered by the choices of others. I sometimes wonder if I should have turned right instead of left, if I would have made a difference, if I should have said something back then.
And I have gotten to the point where I’m tired of not being listened to.
I’m not saying that my opinion is any better than anyone else’s. We know the world by what we’ve experienced. I have kept my thoughts and opinions respectful and private. But in suppressing the nonsense that runs constantly through my head, I find myself talking and sharing more than when I was 20. It’s like the filter is broken. And I wonder — is that a good thing or a bad thing?
Through this need to reveal more than the neighborhood stripper, I find myself volunteering information that no one is interested in. Well, maybe they are, but in a superficial sort of way. I think we all do that — we listen to others babble their life stories, their grocery store nightmares, their crazy family history or their list of illnesses. We listen because we really do care. Not that we can do anything about their stories, but because we know that sometimes others just need someone to listen.
Often the babble that comes out of other mouths has nothing to do with what’s really going on inside. Maybe the storyteller suffers from insecurities, or illness, or loneliness. Maybe sharing the story of their kid’s accomplishments is a way to assure them that they did a good job as a mother or father. Maybe all they want is to be noticed. To be cared about. To be liked.
Many things fuel our chatter — or lack of. Where we’ve come from is not nearly as important as where we are headed. If chit chatting about great recipes or the knucklehead in the cubicle down the hall gives us a little clearer sense of self, I’m all for it. We all need to get the chit out of our heads so we can think clearer and feel stronger. And as long as the chat is not destructive, there’s nothing wrong with a bit of babble at the bubbler.
Alas, sometimes I think my only solution is to wire my jaws shut.
11 thoughts on “Chit Chattin’ Chatty Cathy”
Thanks for the comment and for reassuring me I’m not alone!
I love you, huggie — and all of you who reread this! I swear that as middle age hits me full force I’m prone to say waaay more than I used to. Maybe that’s where blogging (and writing) came in full bloom! If I can’t say things out loud at least I can write them down for future contemplation! Thanks sooo much!
I’m having a bit of the same problem lately. Weird. And trust me I didn’t say to a fly when I was young.
Reblogged this on hugmamma's MIND, BODY and SOUL and commented:
Wow! Seems Claudia took the words…right out of my mouth!
…can’t think of another thing to add…
Spoken like my soul sister, Claudia. I think I’ll reblog it. hugs… 🙂
Keep working those jaws!! The people who read are hoping to find something they can personally relate to, be it information, confession or over the fence conversation. If you never release water from a dam, it bursts into pieces wiping out everything down stream. So keep talking for goodness sake. We love the sound of your voice.
Oh, I have my moments of quiet too..but that’s when everyone asks “Are you okay? Anything you want to talk about?” Funny either way. Thanks for sharing!
I enjoyed this — you’ve got me thinking here. So hard to know if a “broken filter” is a danger or a form of salvation! Women are so easily judged for talking too much (because some prefer us silent) or too little (because assertiveness is valued, and it doesn’t always come easily). Since there’s no pleasing everyone, I say — go for it. Do what comes naturally. I’ll bet you’re worth listening to.
It’s just the opposite for me–the older I get, the less chatty I am, not that I ever was much of a talker. I prefer to get others to talk about themselves–takes the pressure off of me. But that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a stimulating conversation every now and then. 🙂
Loved the reference to “Planes, Trains, and Automobiles.” One of my favorite movies.
I personally love people who think they talk too much. They rarely actually do, in my opinion. They seem to be the ones that are the most honest in general….Not always, but a great percentage of the time. Plus, I kind of instinctively trust them a little more…I really don’t know why, but I guess it is because they don’t seem to be fostering agendas…What you hear is what you get..lol!