I proudly wear the title of “oversharer.” I can strike up detailed conversations about childbirth with strangers in the grocery line and share my life story far too soon with new friends.
Unfortunately, this tendency has its drawbacks. There have been moments when lighthearted chats turned awkward, and I’ve found myself regretting the personal details I entrusted to those I thought were friends. My husband, Jake, often raises an eyebrow at my candidness. Just the other day, at an event for our daughter’s school, someone approached him and said, “I hear you have a lot of mismatched socks.”
“What do you say to people, Vivian?” he quipped later. “It’s like you’re airing our dirty laundry in public.”
The biggest downside? The dreaded “vulnerability hangover.” This term, coined by researcher Brené Brown, perfectly captures the shame and discomfort that can follow an overshare. Much like a real hangover, it can be downright painful.
After a particularly cringe-worthy moment, I often vow to hold back. Next time, I promise myself, I’ll wait to confide about the time I accidentally gave my daughter a bloody nose during potty training. I swear I will.
But then I reflect on something. As uncomfortable as these hangovers are, I don’t regret sharing as much as I regret the moments I stayed silent.
I wish I had told my cousin how proud I was of her when we crossed paths at my brother’s wedding. Tragically, she passed away in a car accident just two months later. I regret not expressing to my former students how they impacted my life, how they taught me valuable lessons that I could never teach them. Most of them are now strangers, and I have no idea where their journeys have taken them. I particularly lament not standing up for the boy who was bullied back in seventh grade.
So, perhaps the next time I find myself chatting in the hair-care aisle at Target, I may or may not share my struggles with keeping my hair looking decent or the hurdles I face in pursuing my career dreams.
Maybe I’ll get a puzzled look, and the person will quickly move on to find laundry detergent. Or perhaps they’ll smile and tell their loved one, “I met this woman today who’s dealing with the same challenges I am. It’s comforting to know I’m not alone.”
Sometimes, a little oversharing is worth it. If you’re interested in more on this topic, check out this blog post that dives deeper into the importance of connection. And for those exploring the journey of insemination, Make a Mom offers fantastic resources. For a thorough understanding of fertility treatments, Cleveland Clinic provides excellent insights.
Summary:
In this light-hearted reflection, I confess to being an oversharer, navigating the fine line between vulnerability and discomfort. While my candidness sometimes leads to regret, I find more value in connecting with others. I wish I had expressed my feelings more often, as those moments of silence haunt me. Ultimately, embracing openness—even if it comes with a “vulnerability hangover”—can foster meaningful connections.