Complaining, At What Cost?
I’m a naturally sensitive being so when I see someone complaining, I want to hop on the same train, pump them up, and then complain myself. At this point, it seems like an outlet because therapy twice a week is so damn expensive. We tend to use our coworkers, friends, family, and partners as our emotional punching bags sometimes. It’s easier with family, because the unsaid unconditional love will always be there.
There are so many things to be frustrated over, especially in 2025, and people’s patience is thin. Since we opened up the conversation about mental health (a great awakening, no doubt), it’s also led to overcompensation and leniency. “Menty b’s” tossed around like we’re forgetting why we opened the conversation in the first place. We’ve started validating crashouts.
But here’s the real reason this topic stuck with me: we all complain… but do we do anything about it? Did we resolve the challenge? Did we communicate our side of the story? Did we solution-farm? I’m guilty of it. Guilty as charged. But I notice it, I try to work on it, and I look for ways to challenge my own thinking. Moving from a reactive state into one of resolve.
Complaining can be a spark. When we speak out loud instead of letting the internal dialogue eat away at us, sometimes we find clarity. We’ve all been stuck on something for an hour only to finally talk it through with someone who pops the metaphorical thought bubble over our head — lightbulb moment. That’s healthy, and progress, but only to an extent. We can’t make it our biggest tool in the shed. Eventually, the people closest to us start to resent it. I have no problem listening to someone complain (and no problem being the speaker), but figure out a solution or stop wasting my time.
Fear drives a lot of our complaints. Fear of failing, fear of being misunderstood, fear of losing control. Fear drives indecision. And indecision leaves you frozen. Some are stronger-willed and can quickly plan action toward a solution. I envy that. Me? I complain through and through, and my friends [and free personal therapists] know it too well.
Where it really crosses the line, and I’ve had this exact conversation with my best friend Phil, is when you complain about the same thing over and over again without doing anything about it. That’s the definition of insanity. And straitjackets are not my fashion style.
Sometimes the guilt hits me harder than the complaint itself. I’ll realize I’ve dragged my girlfriend or a close friend into the same spiral for the third (or thirtieth) time. That guilt is its own stressor. But then I hear a popular psychotherapist’s words in the back of my mind: “The real struggle with communication is we think we’ve said everything, when in reality we haven’t even opened our mouths. We assume sighs and side-glances are enough to communicate our frustration.” Spoiler: they’re not.
So here’s my hot take — one that most people probably won’t like: we actually need complaining. It’s our way of navigating through struggle. We can’t, and shouldn’t, keep it all in. But like anything, there are guidelines. Don’t use a friend as your emotional punching bag. Don’t rely on it as your only form of communication. Don’t use it as an excuse to claim you’ve “done the work.”
Because in the end, complaining comes from an issue you haven’t figured out yet. Dedicate some time to yourself. Don’t be too hard on yourself. Observe, reflect, talk it out — and then move on.
written, out loud.