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Health
Time to give Karen a break? Science says complaining is good for us
Turns out, having a good whinge might actually be good for us. So why hold back when the science says our rants are basically self-care?
By Rachael Mogan McIntosh
The other morning, I was trying to do too many things before I left the house. (Every catastrophe in my life begins with multi-tasking.) While brushing my teeth, I threw together a lamb curry for the evening meal. I added lamb chops, curry sauce, onions and coconut milk to the pot of my new pressure cooker, and was just chopping up some garlic when I saw a rusty, spreading tide of liquid flow over the countertop. My brain took a minute to catch up to the fact that I had put all my ingredients into the cooker while the inner pot remained perched on the drying-up rack.
For the next 45 minutes – all other tasks shelved – I tried to clean up the crime scene. It was a disaster on par with the Exxon Valdez oil spill of 1989. And, just like at Exxon, it’s a fair bet that no bastard in the research and design department of Unnamed Multinational Appliance Company would ever face the impact of their failure to provide a) a solid platform on which to catch the food when such a mistake happened or b) a clearly marked inner pot that would remind a frazzled middle-aged woman who is, like Atlas, carrying the world on her shoulders, that the machine either is or is not in place to receive her ingredients?
Ranting as therapy (aka therantpy)
As I scrolled the internet for a solution, I ranted to myself like a crazy lady on variations of all of the above.
‘There’s a pressure-cooker Facebook group full of people who did the same thing!’ I whinged to my girlfriends on WhatsApp as I cleaned curry sauce out of the internal wiring with a paintbrush.
‘It’s like the most common mistake people make!’ I ranted to my long-suffering husband as he removed the base with a screwdriver.
I know. It all sounds a bit histrionic. But firstly, you should have seen me when it actually happened. I mean, I’ve had days to calm down and I’m still way up.
And secondly, I have made a glorious discovery: that science shows that complaining is good for my health. So this rant (and all the others) counts most definitely as that most important of concepts: self-care.
The science of complaining
When people vent to each other, we activate a biological response called ‘social buffering’ that literally lowers the levels of stress hormone in the body. It’s known as the ‘tend and befriend’ response, and proves that vulnerability and connection to others are vital keys to a healthy psyche. Data shows that venting in a supportive environment helps us to regulate our emotions and serves a social function of ‘meaning-making’ in our shared worlds.
See, it not only helps me; it helps my community. I mean, if I think about how much I complained about the pressure cooker this week, I’m practically Mother Teresa.
Even better, ‘co-rumination’ – for instance, going around and around about how difficult it would be to build a platform that prevented food from entering the very wiring of an appliance, for god’s sake – is associated with higher-quality friendship and decreases in anxiety and depression. And even if the complaining becomes repetitive – I know I’ve said this already, but make the inner pot a different colour! Make it gold! – it still strengthens relationships.
Grumbling as a coping mechanism
As a woman in perimenopause, the reality of what we’re supposed to do for our health is outrageously unpleasant. Start the day eating a pig-load of protein and lift heavy weights ‘until fatigued’. Oh dear.
Go to bed at night wearing a light-up fluorescent face-mask to cling desperately onto any of your remaining collagen while taping your mouth-breathing lips shut. Sigh.
Put on a weighted vest to make that daily walk ‘work harder’, and give up alcohol, the little you can drink, because these days alcohol gives you a hangover that lasts until the next prime ministerial administration.
Our hips and shoulders are hurting, we wake up every night at 3am, our bodies are leaking the hormones that help us put up with the large inequities and small humiliations of life, and if we complain publicly, children call us Karen.
Caring for perimenopausal health can be hard work, but complaining? That’s just an old-fashioned good time.
All’s well that vents well
Everything turned out OK in the end. I flung all the ingredients I could rescue into the trusty old slow cooker and that lamb curry fed us for two nights. And it was delicious.
Now, here I am, sharing my troubles with you, armed with the knowledge that putting complaints in writing works too: data shows it reliably demonstrates small, robust upticks in mental health. Virtual therapists, each and every one of you! Many thanks.
Feature image: iStock/Miljan Živković
The information on this page is general information and should not be used to diagnose or treat a health problem or disease. Do not use the information found on this page as a substitute for professional health care advice. Any information you find on this page or on external sites which are linked to on this page should be verified with your professional health care provider.
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