I consider myself the quintessential oversharer. Whether it’s an in-depth discussion about birthing experiences with strangers in a grocery store or revealing intimate details too soon in new friendships, I’ve done it all.
This tendency hasn’t always worked in my favor. There have been instances where seemingly casual social interactions turned awkward, and moments when I confided in people I thought were friends only to later regret it deeply. My husband, Mark, is particularly amused—at least not in a good way. Just the other day at an event for our kids’ school, someone approached him and said, “I hear you have a lot of laundry to do.”
“What do you tell them, Sarah?” he asked me later that evening. “It’s like you’re literally airing our dirty laundry.”
The most significant repercussion of my oversharing habit, however, is what Brené Brown aptly termed a “vulnerability hangover.” Much like a real hangover, it’s an experience filled with discomfort and regret. After such episodes, I often resolve to be more reserved in the future. I promise myself that next time, I’ll hold back from discussing how I accidentally gave my daughter a black eye while trying to help her use the potty. I really mean it this time!
But then, I ponder the flip side. As painful as these vulnerability hangovers can be, I find that I regret more the things I didn’t say. For instance, I wish I had told my cousin how proud I was of her during my brother’s wedding, especially since she tragically passed away in a car accident two months later. I also regret not expressing to my former students how they profoundly impacted my life; each of them taught me lessons that I could never convey back to them. And as my child approaches middle school, I wish I had defended the boy who faced bullying back in seventh grade.
So when a stranger strikes up a conversation in the haircare aisle at Target, I might spare them the details about my battle with hair maintenance or the struggles I face in pursuing my professional dreams. But then again, I might just share. Perhaps they’ll give me a strange look and quickly move on to the detergent aisle. Or, maybe they’ll smile back and think, “Wow, I’m not alone in this.”
Every so often, a vulnerability hangover may just be worth it. For more insights on navigating parenting and self-insemination, check out our post about at-home insemination kits. Also, to explore advancements in fertility treatments, visit Dr. Emily Johnson’s discussion on ABC Tampa Bay. And for an excellent resource on intrauterine insemination, check out this informative article.
In the end, the connections we make—no matter how momentary—can sometimes lead to unexpected comfort and understanding.