I consider my rural
upbringing a blessing. Overall, the comforts and experiences from country life benefited
me more than a person might expect. That is not to say that our rustic
lifestyle denied us some luxuries. Unlike our urban contemporaries, my family
depended on a primitive sewer system. While most households never worry about
waste beyond a daily flush, the Gulbranson house was inescapably attached to a
nearby lagoon. Waste siphoned from the house found its way to the lagoon by
means of simple tubes and plumbing. For the most part, the system worked
efficiently. For the most part…
On the odd occasion, the
system would malfunction. Cold winters and faulty tubing sporadically created
issues that would require fixing. Seeing as my parents were frugal
do-it-yourselfer’s, we often disregarded decades of advanced plumbing science
and expertise in favor of cheap character-building labor. These were win-win
situations: my parents got the problem fixed for next to nothing, and we
siblings learned how to put up with other peoples crap.
On one occasion, the system
malfunctioned during one of my parents trips to Seattle. I had hoped their
absence would have warranted a visit from a professional. After all, a teenager
with zero guidance or supervision could never hope to repair the problem alone.
Plus, I was not eager to show up to my high-school smelling like a musty septic
tank. But alas, my father arranged for Jared, my oldest brother, to visit our
home to help me do the work. Jared’s lengthy experience with the family sewer
qualified him for the unsavory job. Likewise, my age and position in the family
hierarchy qualified me for the grunt labor.
That summer afternoon, Jared
showed up to our house with all the necessary tools and equipment. The main
piece was a heavy sewer snake rented from the local hardware store.
Together, we heaved the sewer snake across the lawn and down into
the lagoon. Knowing full well what awaited us in that lagoon, we walked
gingerly around it’s shore, carefully avoid the blackened liquefied contents.
Once we approached the drainage system, we set up shop and inserted the sewer snake into the obstructed tube.
The job was simple: remove
the blockage from the system to allow the free flow of waste. My job was to
extend and retract the snake as needed. Jared held the equipment steady as I
dutifully cranked the handle back and forth and back and forth. No matter how
careful we were, the job was never clean. Completing the work always meant
getting your hands... um, dirty. In my juvenile wisdom, I forewent the choice
to use gloves. Gloves made cranking the handle slow and inconvenient. I wanted
the job done quickly. So I ignored Jared’s advice and worked barehanded.
After dozens of cranks, the
snake extended far enough to reach the blockage. It took only minutes to break
up the obstruction. All that was left was to retract the lengthy flexible
auger. With great anticipation, I whirled the handle hurriedly. Every rotation
brought us that much closer to job completion. Watching for the final length of
auger, I focused on Jared’s hands as they guided the snake from the white pipe
and into the coiled metal case. My carelessness would end up costing me dearly.
With a nasty jolt, the heavy
metal crank stopped sharply. Jared looked back just in time to witness me
yanking my finger from the tight coil of unforgiving metal. I jerked back my
hand in immense pain, hopping and shaking it vigorously to soothe my throbbing
index finger. When that failed, my brain followed up with the next instinctive
action. Without any thought, I desperately raised my hand to my face.
Gasps immediately followed
my action; first Jared’s and then mine. It was too late. My bare and soiled
hand had passed beyond my lips and into my mouth. The realization was as rancid
as it was embarrassing. In horror, I removed my finger and frantically spit at
the ground. Between the gags and the dry heaving, I continued to spit. Jared
watched, unable to breathe due to laughter. The pain of humiliation immediately
replaced the pain of pinched fingers. All my family would hear of my mistake,
and I knew they would not let me forget it.
In any other situation, such
a reaction would have been reasonable. I’ve struck my fingers with hammers and
other tools before and reacted in exactly the same way. Our natural reflex
guides most of us to respond in such a way. In that light, my habitual reaction
may have seemed sensible, if not logical. However, the circumstance and context
of the situation made my reaction entirely foolish.
Rather than react with
levelheadedness and pragmatism, I allowed impulse and emotion to exaggerate my
reaction. I had overreacted, and I ended up paying the price.
Thankfully, the price I had
to pay was limited to a vulgar taste in my mouth and some minor shame. Minor
consequences like embarrassment and inconvenience usually accompany
overreactions like mine. But there are many instances when our overreactions
carry heavier consequences.
In extreme cases of
overreaction, we might have to endure disgrace, ill-repute, disaffection, heartache,
or ridicule. Every time we freak out, lose our cool, or stew about, we place
our reputation at the mercy of other people’s negative perceptions and
estimations. Of course, our character is not defined by the opinions of others.
But it is defined by our behaviors and attitudes. And as explained by
Albert Einstein, “Weakness of attitude becomes weakness of character.” If we
are serious about the quality of our character, then tempering our passion and
disciplining our conduct become very advisable goals.
However, this type of
discipline garners little respect in many societal circles. Instead, our
grievance culture urges us to react, demonstrate, contest, and crusade against
trendy evils and injustices. Fight back against police brutality! Stand against
patriarchal bigotry! Resist income inequality! Abolish big game hunting! These
calls to action are nothing more than invitations to overreact, wrapped in
misapplied verbs and delivered in an envelope of shallow perception. Sure, the
causes possess some elements of truth. Injustices exist and should be dealt
with accordingly. However, most movements have evolved past the stages of
activism and into the stages of overreactivism. This rapid evolution can best
be accredited to the flagrant dismissal of facts, context, and expertise. Instead,
the masses often establish credibility, truth, and reality in the form of
likes, shares, of digital commentary.
This macrocosm of
overreaction would be impossible were it not for the mortal weaknesses of the
individual. The large scale dramatics give adequate testimony to our personal
struggles with overreaction. We all possess a flawed degree of impulsiveness
and sensationalism. Combining that flaw with ample opportunities to overreact
allows us to perfect our imperfections. All experiences involving change,
confrontation, criticism, and discomfort potentially serve as the catalyst for
overreaction. The more piercing or vivid the experience, the more we feel
compelled to overreact.
You, like many, might be
fooled into the belief that you are above the frailties of overreaction. So, let’s
assume that perhaps, on occasion, your behavior is less than saintly. Moreover,
let’s take a more audacious step and imagine that you are an imperfect being.
Do you think it possible that you possess a proclivity towards overreaction? Would
you ever number yourself among the worrywarts, the defeatists, the
hot-tempered, or the envious? If you would like an honest answer, you might
find it by answering the following questions:
How do I react when my work
is criticized?
How do I respond to genuine
differences of opinion?
Do I even acknowledge that
some differences of opinion are genuine?
Are my perceptions generally
negative?
Do I immediately assume the
worst of someone?
Can I candidly admit “I
don’t know” when I don’t have all the facts?
Do I shift fault or blame
without hesitation?
Do I temporarily dismiss my
values on account of someone else’s weakness?
Do I stew at the success,
fortune, or good works of others?
If you responded to this
exercise of reflection with deep sincerity and self-candor, you likely possess
a higher sense of composure. Naturally, we must not assume that you have the
aura of perfection. In reality, you may struggle with multiple propensities
towards overreacting. However, the fact that you were honest in your
self-evaluation proves your capability of reflection and humility, both of
which acutely contrast the practice of overreacting.
Others will respond to these
questions less earnestly. This is to be expected – most of us fall into this
category of denial and indifference. In our eyes, overreacting is someone
else’s issue. We all like to pretend that we maintain a higher sense of
levelheadedness or self-control. I cannot deny that there are some of us who
are naturally calm and calculated. But for the rest of us, the habit of
overreacting is a major stumbling block. If you are under this pretense, I urge
you to remember that an overreaction is not limited to external outbursts or explosions.
An overreaction is any response that is made more emotionally or forcibly than
is justified. We can react irrationally in hushed speech, subdued thought, and
even frigid acts.
In extreme cases, some
people might respond to these questions with great offense, recoil, or hostility.
If such is the case, we can very confidently diagnose such participants as
overreactors. These are the people who fail to achieve a sentient or cognitive
awareness of their behavior or attitudes. Disparagingly they will ask, “Who
does he think he is?” Or they sarcastically quip, “Oh, he is one to talk!” They
will fume, deflect, and belittle; it is what overreactors do. These reactions exemplify
overreaction. Ironically, their disproportionate response betrays their own deep
fight with emotions and maturity. To such is prescribed a healthy does of
somber reflection and self-observation.
The overwhelming prevalence
of heartache, betrayal, and mistrust in our world makes this topic
exceptionally relevant. What prices have we had to pay for human overreaction? How
many problems might we solve if we could approach them with dignity? How many
compromises could we achieve if our responses were more measured? How much
progress could we make if we acted more deliberately? Can you imagine what your
personal life might look like in these conditions? Can you imagine what our
world might look like?
I firmly believe that
societal change and progress stems from the individual. With that in mind, I
feel that addressing our personal habits of overreaction might be a good place
to start. I say these things from the position of one who overreacts in every
possible way; from the hidden boundaries in my mind to the open interactions in
my community. And while my position does not presume the mantle of leadership,
it does allow me to opportunity to invite.
Therefore, I invite you to
continue shaping your character. I encourage you to avoid hastiness and
impulsiveness. The more often you can react considerately and appropriately,
the more often you will leave a positive mark in this world.
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