When you can't stop talking

I talk a lot.

I was quiet during my years of dysthymia, when people confused my chronic, mild depression for my personality. (I'm sure being shy and self-conscious didn't help.) But in my mid-teens, when my dad's spiral into anxiety and depression triggered my own, my anxiety freed what I've come to call "blabbing." Yes, my name is Jenny. And I'm a blabber.

What others don't realize is that it's horrible to be blabbing away to them about something; to sense from their body language that they're tired of hearing you talk, but to feel forced to keep on talking anyway. I think it's one of the things that drove Pete crazy in those last few years.

Fortunately, I thought to ask Dr. Goodheart what was wrong with me.

Being the intelligent psychiatrist that he is, he had an immediate answer.

"You never felt understood or validated by your parents. You keep talking because you're trying so hard to make the other person understand; because it's so important to you that they do."

It explains why I repeat the same thing over and over using different words; why the expression "you know?" is so often on my lips; why Pete never mentioned I talked too much during the first few years of our relationship; why I characterize my best friendships as those in which we don't have to talk, and why I'm especially talkative at first-time meetings.

Like so many other things I've been reading and hearing from Dr. Goodheart, once again, it explains everything.

And now that I know why I'm doing it and what I really need, I can focus on change.

Yesterday as my mom and I ate breakfast together before my session, I began talking about something and soon recognized that I couldn't stop and why. So I kept going, "And the reason I keep talking and talking is because I desperately need to feel understood and validated and I can't stop talking because I need that so much."

Finally my mom looked up. "You mean right now?"

"Yes, I can't stop even though I hate what I'm doing." I could feel myself growing more and more desperate.

"It's okay. You can relax," she said, looking at me. And I looked back and took a few deep breaths. And with that, it was over. I was understood.

Everything's going to be all right...