... in a hard truth
I was speaking to someone this past week about something that had been bothering me for a long time. I thought that, while it was grumbling of a form, I was entitled to complain, in part because I was feeling hurt.
But they pointed out to me with a great deal of tact, that while I was doubtless right to be annoyed, I'd be complaining about the same thing for months on end, and becoming embittered in the process. Complaining wasn't helping me. Perhaps it had helped at one point, but it wasn't any more. Called to justify myself, I could have blustered or burst into tears. But on this occasion, I took a little time to reflect on why I was feeling the way I was. I didn't feel better about the thing I'd been complaining about – life is not so simple, and the problem was not going to go away that easily. However, I began to feel better about myself and more in control of my emotions and the way I talk about them.
I felt like without that person speaking to me in the right way, I would have continued down the same path. I had confirmation that a change of attitude was going to help me when I mentioned my decision to someone else, who tactfully agreed.
I am truly blessed with people close to me who empathise with me and support me, but also know how to tell me when I'm going about something the wrong way.