We were going to a trade school that was just down the street from a convenience store. We didn't have much time for lunch, so when his dad said he wanted to meet me, we just met him at the convenience store, because we could grab lunch, have more time with him, and we didn't have to worry about being late getting back to class. We talked and laughed and joked for a few minutes, and out of the blue his dad started shaking his head and said, "I don't get it. How did you two get to know one another? You both talk so much I don't see how either of you got a word in edge-wise!"
We laughed, but I wanted to cry. I remember distinctly that I got that horrible lump in my throat that I get when I'm threatening to cry and trying to keep things under control. I believe I made some excuse about heading back to class, so I wouldn't be late, and we left together. I just remember choking back tears and feeling so very thankful that my future husband was by my side squeezing my hand in little spurts to let me know he knew I was hurting and that he was there for me.
My entire life, I've been told I talk too much. My first grade teacher remarked at her retirement party that her two favorite students in all of her years of teaching couldn't be more different. "One," she remarked, "I couldn't get to talk until halfway through the school year, and one I couldn't get to stop talking!" I was one of those students. My very, very shy younger brother was the other one. She retired many years after we had gone through her class, and she never once let on like either of our social styles bothered her in the least. She was an absolutely incredible teacher. She died several years ago, and I really miss her.
Later on I often got research papers and compositions returned to me in school with a minus after the letter grade, because it was too long. Yet I never knew exactly what I could cut out. It always seemed so important to me to include what I had included in the paper. And several years ago, a friend told me I was her 'most wordy friend'. Once again, it stung.
Today I was looking up information on a show called "I'm Pregnant And..." Each show is something different. I'm Pregnant And...Have Cancer, ...A Nudist, ...A Hoarder. Discovery Health is putting it out, and I'm very much looking forward to seeing the hoarder episode. I really hope that things have gone well for the woman, and I hope that she feels she can reach out, if she ever comes across my blog, but I digress...
While trying to find information on it, I stumbled across this article about hoarding on MyOptumHealth.com. For the most part it was stuff I'd already read before, but something struck me like a bolt of lightening in the list of symptoms in the article:
Symptoms common to hoarders include:
- Indecision (e.g., whether to keep or save things)
- Fear about not having or losing something
- Distress about throwing things away or having them removed
- Perfectionism, which makes them avoid tasks and perform slowly
- Poor organizing skills
- Using too many details when talking
- Not letting people in their homes
My husband then told me (as he has many times over the years) that he has so often wished he could stop himself from talking. That sometimes he feels powerless to do so. That he feels he has to finish his thought, or he'll look stupid, because what he said up to that point doesn't make any sense. I have so been there!
I was talking with Bugster about it, and she said she has had the same thing happen to her as well. And her entire life people have made comments about how much she talks or given her nicknames like, 'blabbermouth'.
I hate that. I really do. And I think of my throat catching that day when I met my future father-in-law, and I so wanted him to like me, and all he could do is comment about how much I talked. And how I felt belittled. And how I didn't want that for our girls, and yet he's done it to Bugster before, and he does it to Hopper every single time he sees her. And yet I don't know what to say about it.
For that matter, I don't know, if I could say anything over the lump that suddenly appears in my throat every time I hear it.