Please, stop complaining

by David Goldman

I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s today’s society. Maybe it’s the abundant social media giving everyone the ability to broadcast to large numbers of people, or maybe something else, but there seems to be an awful lot of complaining going on these days. I see and hear it all around me almost every day.

“My back is killing me.”

“Oh, you have no idea how bad my head hurts.”

“Something’s not right with my stomach.”

“It’s too damned cold here.” Okay, that last one has been me on numerous occasions. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that your back, head, or the sixth toe no one knows about on your left foot doesn't hurt. I’m not saying your pain, discomfort or sickness isn’t real. And I’m certainly not saying it wouldn’t be great if it was 74° and sunny every day of the year in Chicago. The thing is, while all of these are true, complaining about them does absolutely no good. Really! You can complain all you want about something and it’s not going to change that pain one bit. Not even one miniscule, teeny, weeny smidge. Look, it hasn’t changed anything yet, right? And I don’t know about you, but I for one, am sick and tired of hearing about it. Yes, I know that was a complaint. It’s a joke people! Get it?

Really though, I don’t know if it’s just today’s world, a generational thing, or if it’s always been like this, but it seems that you can’t talk to people without encountering someone complaining about something. Maybe it’s a function of age. Most of the people I interact with, whether in person, on the phone, or via social media, are approximately my age and our bodies are into the breaking down stage. But every time I hear or read a complaint I wonder what complaining is supposed to accomplish.

I know, I know. At this point you’re thinking, what an a$#hole! He’s complaining about complaining! Yeah, I am, but please read on.

On the other hand, I recently read a couple of Facebook posts that were in their way the polar opposite. One was from Lauren, a friend who recently had a kidney transplant. She posted that she had her scheduled checkup with her transplant doctor and everything was going great and just wanted to say how grateful she was. I don’t know Lauren very well, but this woman is a young mother of two boys and had spent almost two and a half years living off of  a dialysis machine. Yet, during that time I don’t remember her ever posting anything that ever sounded like, “why me” or “this isn’t fair.” Most of her posts were pictures and updates of her kids and her family celebrations – happy, joyous moments and positive thoughts.

Another post was from another young mom. My friend Beth was diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer about a year and a half ago. While she was never given a real prognosis, the situation was not good. It was too late for surgery and she underwent grueling chemotherapy and eventually, things started looking better. Then, they weren’t. So she’s going through chemo again now. Actually, she has been having chemotherapy treatments  since this began. Her doctor told her she’d be undergoing some form of chemo for the rest of her life. Her post? She was just wondering what her friends’ favorite desserts were. She wasn’t asking people to pity her. She wasn’t looking for sympathy. She is always positive and was wondering what kind of fun dessert she and her family should have that night. And that’s typical of her. When she’s received bad news – devastating news, she might take a little time to absorb and process it, but then she continues living her life. I’ve asked her if she’s scared. She says she sometimes is. But being scared and complaining are two very different things and she knows complaining will do absolutely no good.

A lot of people who could learn some serious lessons from these two women.

This brings me to the point of all this. It’s a suggestion. Try to go a day without complaining. Just one day. Why? Because I honestly think it will make you feel better. Once you say it, type it, or somehow convey the complaint, it’s out there and it represents you. You might be fine with that and everyone around you might also be (although they probably aren’t). But going a day without complaining just might make you feel better. How do you know, you ask? Good question. Because I try to do it myself. It’s something I’ve tried to do for a long time.

In the summer of 1978 I was having eye surgery and I was feeling very sorry for myself. This surgery was a last ditch attempt to save a bit of vision in one of my eyes that over the last year had gone completely blind. The odds were I was going to lose that eye and about half the vision in the other eye. So, I complained about it. I felt it was unfair and it put me in a generally unhappy frame of mind. Just before I going in for the surgery I was talking to another patient who was probably about my age. I asked him what he was having done. He slowly turned his head, looked at me and said three words that truly changed my life:

“Malignant brain tumor.”

 I was instantly ashamed of myself. Here was someone in his early 20s at most, fighting for survival. No matter how my surgery came out I knew I’d at least be alive. I also realized that was all that really mattered. From that point on I promised myself I would try never to complain, no matter what life threw at me.

Have I stuck to this vow from many years ago? I’ve tried. I’m far, very far, from perfect about it (or anything else. Just ask anyone who knows me.) But I’ve tried to stick to this one promise I made that day. And you know what? It has really helped me. I’ve had my fair share of medical drama and issues, but every time I’m confronted with a new one, or an old one rears its head, I think of that guy laying on the gurney next to me and I remember it can always be worse. Maybe I’m weird, but I find that comforting. So whatever it is that’s bothering you, that pain, that stomachache, that condition, remember, it can always be worse.

Try it for yourself. For just one day don’t complain. I bet you feel better.

And if you don’t believe me, ask Lauren or Beth.