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I have always been a Class A Blurter. That means I have a propensity to blurt out my thoughts as soon as they would enter my head. I used to I think of this hyper-honesty as a way of sharing my most knowledgable or helpful advice. I realize now that you just come off as a nudge or know-it-all. More recently, I’ve learned to hit pause.
Take it from me that learning to hold your comments and envision them as thought bubbles instead, and hit pause before deciding to talk is one secret to a long and happy relationship. If you are the youngest child, like me, you know that sometimes it felt growing up as if you were having to hit the game show buzzer first and loudest to be heard. What served you well with siblings back then does not always work in your key relationships now.
Want to know if you’re a blurter? He makes a wrong turn. You a) Blurt it out as soon as the wheels start to point into the wrong direction and beat Miss GPS to the punch; b) Hit pause and tell him later, since after all the car is already letting him know to “make a U turn,” or c) Say nothing and let him figure it out. What did you choose? How’d it go?
More often than not, blurting is just a big turnoff to anyone within earshot. Recently I have decided to try an experiment. Instead of blurting (or blasting, which is a loud and urgent version of a more measured blurt), I now hit pause, and that gives me time to t decide whether to say something (share my opinion or dare I say it, correction) or just say nothing. Guess what? It actually has helped me, both in my marriage, in my work life and my overall happiness.
Hitting Pause is the key.
Here is how this works. Husband says something I disagree with, or does something I think is in need of “correcting,” like taking a wrong turn on the way home from the market (truly it’s the little stuff that makes me want to blurt, like a mispronunciation, a wrong fact or other trivial statement) and I need to tell him there is a better way to go. My way is faster!
But if it just means the dog has to wait two more minutes to go out – since we are going to arrive home a tad later than if we had taken my more excellent way home – I don’t say anything. I really want to, but I decide to hit pause. I may decide to use the overeager greeting from the dog to say something mature like: “She wouldn’t have had to wait so long if we had taken the other way.” But this usually starts a debate about whose way is better, mine versus his, so is not worth it. I know I’m right. I can live with that satisfaction without further validation. (It’s more important to be connected than right!)
Where does blurting come from?
I can’t say for sure what qualities or circumstances contribute to blurting. But I know that many of my best friends who are also the youngest children also enjoy a jovial blurt when we are off the clock, like on a fun drive to a ski weekend, when everyone enjoys a chance to revert to their best kid-like behavior. We actually blurt at each other like seals on rocks, clapping and barking and laughing. “I hate this song!” To be answered with, “I love this song.” Who controlled the radio station on a road trip used to be the most fun part of the journey. Now we have playlists. But as the youngest child sometimes the only way to get the mic was to grab it. Growing up, dinner felt like a gameshow. Dad would ask a question and you had to hit the buzzer quickest to answer. There was no buzzer so blurting was the equivalent.
Often the only way to get noticed by older siblings who were bigger, and often preoccupied with their own stuff, like dating and driving and getting out of the house and not paying enough attention to us little sibs stuck at home. In our house, blurting was a form of love. It meant we were having fun. You were allowed to blurt when it came time to control the board game “You are going directly to Jail!!” Or during the long car ride to Vermont to ski with family friends, or which ski trail we’d take down from the top of the lift. Basically you knew that if you could blurt in front of someone, (as in, “Let’s take Lift Line!) and ski off, they would follow you, that was a solid bond and no amount of blurting would hurt each other’s feelings.
Learning to read the room
As I got older and wiser, instead of raising my hand at each chance I learned that pausing, listening and holding my fire could be better rewarded. The feminist in me still wanted to speak up in class, especially when I got to boarding school and college, to disagree with the guy who was positing some dumb theory or saying something sexist or offensive. But you learn to temper it and wait for your moment. Your first thought isn’t always the zinger that’s going to take down the bully or thoughtless bro, since he was too dumb to understand that what he was saying was not going over well. In that case you just let him sit there and realize he had not read the room.
You find out that many times, pausing works best, and reading the room is tool for success. It also helped make me a better friend, spouse, sibling and parent. We didn’t need to tell what we thought so much as listen to what they thought. We needed to finally take a breath and in the case of kids, not always tell them what they needed to hear, but let them figure stuff out.
Now as I turn the corner into that phase of life where everyone has set opinions and no one wants to hear mine, or anyone’s if it disagrees with theirs, I find there is power in pausing and saying nothing. Sometimes you need to just let someone talk.
I listen to the medical issue facing a friend, and try not to tell them everything I know about having an enlarged prostate or elevated PSA, or what tests they give you or when to worry. That’s up to their medical provider. I listen to the reason someone thinks that they finally are done with forgiving a cheater and has decided it’s time to leave the relationship. I pause and listen to my adult children as they puzzle through decisions about work, where to live and not try to react too much at first. The less you say the more they tell you. So now I prefer to pause, listen and watch. I wait for: What do you think? If that doesn’t come I don’t proffer it.
So much more can be gleaned by not saying anything, a blurt or a single word. There is power in the pause. I find that my relationships are richer, deeper, calmer, more satisfying.
I can still blurt on mute (aka, a thought bubble) something I would have said, once upon a younger time, but now I only say it in my own head and crack myself up at my own unspoken blurts. The person who can read me the best – my spouse, and sometimes my sibling or best friend – can usually guess at that thought bubble without my having to say a word. I have blurted for so long that now the blurts are silent. But still sometimes deadly.
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