I was recently advised by a friend to keep my cards close to my chest. Being naturally soft-spoken, this came as unexpected feedback. He was referencing an event where a combination of several beers and a poker winning streak led to some opinionated, loose-lipped venting. I scolded myself afterward knowing that while what I said was by no means inappropriate, an honest retelling of events, it was unnecessary. The additional criticism, therefore, hit an emotional chord that made me uneasy the rest of the night and enough through the rest of the day that I sit here now putting it down in words, my preferred method of communication. After significant thought-laden restlessness, I now question my own emotional intelligence and knowing when it is acceptable to speak my mind. I am not looking for a silver bullet to solve the conundrum of when to speak one’s mind, because the whole process is a demoralizing cluster. I am simply laying out my cards, feedback be damned. (Disclaimer: I appreciated the feedback as it truly had my best interest in mind; I tend to have inwardly emotional responses to feedback affirming the negative criticism I already gave myself. Is that not an appropriately human response for anyone with a soul and a heart temp above freezing?)

Many of my daily interactions are filtered and require “sugar coating”. The opportunities to vent with heartfelt candor are few, and they typically always fall to the ears of a significant other. I honestly do not know how she does it without a bottle of wine or shots always at the ready. With the constant need to run words through through the brain’s editor, at some point, adults have to envy children and their ability to give no care to their audience and vocalize a sometimes questionable stream of consciousness. “That’s not what I want! I don’t like you! You have a big belly! I farted!” An ability to exclaim every thought that comes down from the brain is the freedom of speech we both want and need. The tight wire act of knowing your audience in adulthood is exhausting, frustrating, and, quite frankly, lined with razors. Some are dull and some are sharp, but you cannot tell which is which until you touch one.

I was raised to be polite, but I was also raised to not take crap from others. If you are too polite, people may see opportunities to take advantage. Oppositely, you cannot be seen as too rigid or risk being thought of as difficult and an ass. There are too many variables in the world, in the workplace, and in groups to accurately play the obliger and the tin man at the same time. I want to be liked by those around me, and I want there to be mutual trust without worry there will be backstabbing or clandestine libel. It is an identifiable quality in others and the gate of entry to stay in my life and earn my respect. I know by reflex what is right and appropriate and what is wrong and inappropriate; that is part of functioning as an adult. What I cannot fully understand, however, is why I have the innate curse to care down to my core what others think. It is not the worst quality, but it sure creates some challenges.