I feel confident that the two are directly related. I once heard a guy speak on this type of personality and he described the fictitious prayer of a person like me: Dear God, Look! A bird!
It's not that I want to be rude; emphatically, I do not. I hate that I interrupt all the time and often lament this little habit of mine while reflecting upon some social occasion or another. I know that people who do this aren't considering others and come across as self absorbed. I get that. However, I get revved up and before I know it my mouth and it's contents are once again dominating the conversation. One story spills out after another and pretty soon, all the land is speckled with my anecdotes. I even interrupt myself, for goodness' sake (thus explaining the 'parenthetical' part of the title). When I write, I have to intentionally focus and stop myself from pursuing all the great many rabbit-trails that momentarily spark my interest in the form of parenthetical additions. I'm constantly deleting parentheses. It's a sickness, I think.
This is a quality all the more obvious to me now that I have a little girl in my life who struggles, too, with this same quirk. Though to assign it the almost benevolent tag of "quirk" is both misleading and delusional. It's no quirk. It's more a thundering weakness. A clanging fault. It's loud and it's obvious.
My Dad is a quiet man who all my life, has adhered to the belief that if you don't have anything nice to say, then really, you shouldn't say anything at all. And his conversation is measured, thoughtful and invariably kind. I resemble him not even a little. He's always been befuddled by me. He would kindly liken me to a verbal hurricane. He, a quiet man, was raised by his two quiet parents. I imagine that their home was orderly and clean and quiet. My house, full of sunshiny extroverted children running, not walking, resembles his not at all. My husband, like me, talks all the day long and then often, late into the night. All of this extroverted sameness is well and good, but for when you want to stretch and grow and become a better version of your extroverted self. There's no one around to challenge you in the areas where you are weak. When you talk all day, your sin is on display for anyone who cares to, to have a good long look.
I'd love to grow in this.
It's not that I want to be rude; emphatically, I do not. I hate that I interrupt all the time and often lament this little habit of mine while reflecting upon some social occasion or another. I know that people who do this aren't considering others and come across as self absorbed. I get that. However, I get revved up and before I know it my mouth and it's contents are once again dominating the conversation. One story spills out after another and pretty soon, all the land is speckled with my anecdotes. I even interrupt myself, for goodness' sake (thus explaining the 'parenthetical' part of the title). When I write, I have to intentionally focus and stop myself from pursuing all the great many rabbit-trails that momentarily spark my interest in the form of parenthetical additions. I'm constantly deleting parentheses. It's a sickness, I think.
This is a quality all the more obvious to me now that I have a little girl in my life who struggles, too, with this same quirk. Though to assign it the almost benevolent tag of "quirk" is both misleading and delusional. It's no quirk. It's more a thundering weakness. A clanging fault. It's loud and it's obvious.
My Dad is a quiet man who all my life, has adhered to the belief that if you don't have anything nice to say, then really, you shouldn't say anything at all. And his conversation is measured, thoughtful and invariably kind. I resemble him not even a little. He's always been befuddled by me. He would kindly liken me to a verbal hurricane. He, a quiet man, was raised by his two quiet parents. I imagine that their home was orderly and clean and quiet. My house, full of sunshiny extroverted children running, not walking, resembles his not at all. My husband, like me, talks all the day long and then often, late into the night. All of this extroverted sameness is well and good, but for when you want to stretch and grow and become a better version of your extroverted self. There's no one around to challenge you in the areas where you are weak. When you talk all day, your sin is on display for anyone who cares to, to have a good long look.
I'd love to grow in this.
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