Why do people tell us so much about themselves?

It would seem that’s a great question for a guy like me to answer. Heck, I’ve even told you what I weighed when I was born, (five pounds, five ounces), in past posts, so it sure won’t look like I’m hiding anything from anyone.

This pearl of wisdom came to me from Leroy Jethro Gibbs, a role played by Mark Harmon on the TV series NCIS. While I already knew that much from my own experiences, it served as a reminder and motivated this blog post.

Some of the things people tell others are totally inane. Some are really too personal and fall under the TMI classification. Those are the times we hold up two hands, one with the palm facing down, the fingertips of the other touching that palm to signify a “T”. It either means “time out” or, more succinctly, “too much information”.

You want to say, in frustration or disgust, “I could’ve gone all day without hearing that.”

Still, that’s not the primary reason others tell us so much about themselves. Their main, true motivation is insecurity. People tell us about themselves so they know their lives matter; are important. To you, to other people, to someone.

Everyone wants to know they matter for some reason. Have worth. Merit another person paying attention to what they do, what they say, what they are.

Perhaps that’s even my own hidden agenda, imparting all the information I publish in these pages to have some-all of you tell me I matter. Have a purpose.

Naw, that ain’t it.

Admittedly, I’m as fraught with insecurity as any human being you’ve ever met or ever will meet. That feeling has plagued me since I was a little boy and hasn’t given up a lick of its power in all these years. However, that’s by no means the reason I give it up here as I do.

If you’ve read these blogs for any length of time, you know the reason. The three themes I adhere to are advocating the homeless, telling you about the progress or lack of it with this cancer I developed, and to help you become a better person. Of course, I spent 4⅓ years living homeless, so I’m unabashedly attached to that group. The adenocarcinoma, (lung cancer, stage four), is inextricably a part of my life as well. From our experiences these last almost three years, I’ve become steadfastly connected to all of you, too.

If it ever develops you feel I’m telling you too much, there’s no need for the hand gesture. All you need to do is tell me. If not, even with my rampant insecurity as a given, I’ll keep on telling you, showing by example many things you shouldn’t do. And why.

I’m just sayin’.

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