I have broken a lot of bad habits in my time. Letting my mail pile up for months. (It now piles up only for a matter of days.) Biting my nails. (I got acrylics.) Biting my acrylics. (I nearly broke a tooth and was scared straight.) Binge eating chocolate. (That one took a great deal of work.)
But there is one bad habit I haven’t quite cracked. At 47 years of age, I still speak without thinking. Not as often as I used to, but often enough for regret.
It’s probably my worst characteristic, and the one I have worked hardest to change. And it runs a very predictable course.
There is a stimulus: for example, a family member will say something I don’t like. There is my brain’s response: adrenaline pumping through, generating that fight or flight reaction. And there is my mouth’s reaction: it opens, and words just come rushing out. Words I wish I could bite back hours or minutes after they are spoken.
And of course, in this era of social media and texting, I occasionally message without thinking, too. Whilst it’s easier to take a step back in written communication, I can still get that surge of anger or outrage, and find my fingers typing frantically before my brain can tell me to stop. And messaging, as we all know, can’t be withdrawn. They hang there, in cyberspace, for all eternity, a testament to our passion, our insecurities, our weakness, our flaws.
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So why is it so hard to do the right thing? Why do I still find myself caught in a torrent of words that would never have been aired if I’d just stopped and waited for a few minutes?
After all, I know by now to pause before I speak. I know by now to breathe through irritation or anger, and allow my body to calm down before I respond. I know by now that shame or hurt or embarrassment are not ideal states from which to react.
And, much of the time, I succeed. When I speak to certain people in my life, who regularly trigger my most fierce emotions, I am self-aware enough to recognise and halt the pattern. When I’m reading nasty comments on the internet, I remember they come from deeply unhappy people, and it’s enough to diffuse my anger.
But when I’m tired, or worn down, or taken completely by surprise, I can react instinctively. My emotions take over, the adrenaline pumps, and boom! I react before my reason can intervene. I might yell at my son, or snap at an online troll, or shout something nasty to the idiot who cut me off in the road. It’s not helpful, it’s certainly not mature, and it generally just adds fuel to the fire, but by the time I realise this, it is entirely too late.
It’s an ongoing battle, and one I assumed I would have won by now. Still, I comfort myself by remembering that I’m not the only one; think of all the politicians, celebrities, and famous sportsmen and women whose mouths have moved faster than their minds and got them into all sorts of hot water.
We humans are passionate, fallible types, and words will forever create havoc as well as understanding. All I can do is my best to keep my mouth under control, and keep my fingers on pause when I am using my phone.
And hey, at least I’ve stopped biting my acrylic nails. If I can break that habit, there is hope for me yet.
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