The cat is out of the bag, the third drink has broken the dam, and you’ve spilled the beans.
Cue the toxic regret. You’ve said too much. Welcome to the TMI hangover. Shut the shades, unplug the phones, and let the punishing begin. Dealing with this awkward pain can not only shut you up, but it can shut you down.
Speakers’ remorse is real, and it happens all the time in the most innocent situations.
Fueled by nervousness, stress, absentmindedness, or the overconsumption of alcohol. And to add gossip to the watercooler, the Corona is not helping matters. Being cooped up with the kids or isolating alone can bring out the blurry boundaries and pathetic play-by-play faster than an unhinged jack in the box.
We have all gotten a guilty giggle at seeing “Julie” from human resources saunter into the loo during the office Zoom meeting. We blushed and gasped as we watched the other boxed up zoom members register their wide-eyed shock and awe. But when we are the one on the hot seats, it’s not so funny. There is a real shame parade that happens when we realize we have divulged too much and revealed more than anyone ever wanted or needed to see or know.
The sad thing is that in the midst of what can look to the world like an obvious oversharing, like Julie, the over-sharer may not even be aware. Sometimes the remorseful realization does not hit till hours or days later when we cup our mouths and squeeze our eyes shut and slowly witness ourselves shut down. Once we wake to the situation, it’s hard to un-ring the bell and wrangle ourselves out of the toxic barrage that one might shower on themselves. Take it easy, Julie; we have all been there. Well, maybe not exactly there. But you know what I mean.
We are in the age of transparency, where everyone is attempting to be seen, heard, present, available, and accounted for.
We are seduced by leaders and news programs that show and tell way too much. It’s hard not to watch a train wreck, but a judicious edit would be appreciated. In this era of information overload, we are more prone to perpetuate fake news and offer up false-expert advice that may or may not have been asked for.
If your moral code has not been completely eroded and anesthetized by the barrage of bare ass Instagram posts and tell all television, you may find yourself, curled in fetal positions on your closet floor asking in an unusually high pitched whine, “why did I share that?”
These transparency hangovers are harsh. And can leave damaging scar tissue that will have you doubt yourself and declaring, I will never speak again! The ego never sits in the middle of the seesaw. It gets you coming and going. But as you marinate in the dark, berating yourself. Just know this. You are not alone. Everyone has suffered from the “me-and-my-big-mouth-endemic.” Feeling raw and tender is not necessarily a bad thing. It helps us to become more conscientious.
Remember the Comedy Maths Says,
Pain Plus Time Equals Humor
Forgive yourself, Julie, besides you may have been the one with the bad camera angle, but who was the genius who thought to share the recording? I will withhold my lacerations for that fiend for another day. I think I have already said too much.
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