There can be some therapeutic value to having others share your tale of woe. It's nice, I suppose, to know you're not the only one suffering a particular fate. A program called "Rainbows for All God's Children" exists in schools purportedly to help children deal with loss. ("Boo hoo, my parents are divorced." "Boo hoo, mine are too.")
Whatever. Let's get on with our lives instead of celebrating our victimhood, shall we?
Shel Silverstein wrote a poem called "Complainin' Jack" that sums up my feelings pretty well:
This morning my old jack-in-the-box
Popped out - and wouldn't get back in the box.
He cried, "Hey, there's a tack in the box,
And it's cutting me through and through.
"There also is a crack in the box,
And I never find a snack in the box,
And sometimes I hear a quack in the box,
'Cause a duck lives in here too."
Complain, complain is all he did -
I finally had to close the lid."
My kids are pretty good at complaining. Sometimes I just have to close the lid because I can't listen to it any more. When they have kids, they'll probably say idiotic things like "When I was your age..." because as you grow wisdom, you see what others are doing wrong.
Except they see it as you, complaining.
And they shut the lid.
What good things do you have to say today?