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Oversharing For Military Justice

I overshare.

Yep. It’s what I do. Fortunately, most of it happens in this space, where people have a choice to “look” away. Or click away, as it were.

I’m okay with my oversharing.

My oversharing is a symptom of my past. Not having felt heard, or seen, or understood. So, I tell more than people think I should. Especially given my past. Coil up, form a protective shell, and for goodness sake, stop telling people how you feel. I mean, that’s the message, right? Once hurt, recoil. Harden.

No thanks.

My oversharing is also a symptom of my present. I have chosen a vocation where people pay me to tell them how I feel. It’s true. They pay for my judgment. My job has at the center the need for deep trust.

I was at a legal conference recently when a man I admire and respect was asked what the worst advice was he ever received. He stated without equivocation or hesitation that the worst advice he ever received was to keep his clients at arm’s length. I imagine that he, like me, shares much of who he is with his clients. Many in our industry would dub that “oversharing.”

My (over)sharing without doubt is a symptom of my future.

There is no doubt that when I am standing in line at the grocery store, or better (or worse), at the pharmacy, I am going to provide some detail of my life with the person waiting behind me that any observer would label an “overshare.” In many cases, we gently forgive the overshares of our senior citizens because we equate it as a symptom of their loneliness, or their suspected senility. But what if their sharing is a reflection of their security in who they are?

I suspect, they have a keen sense that tomorrow is not promised. So why not share?

Life is short, eat the ice cream is a theme that keeps coming up for me. What a beautiful and simple concept.

And I feel a sincere overlap in this idea of (over)sharing.

The old(er) lady who tells you about her cats’ intestinal problems did not need to necessarily. Maybe it annoys you, makes you wonder why she can’t stand there silently like the rest of those in line. Maybe, just maybe, she’s the one who has it figured out. I mean, why not tell you about her cats? She is sharing. Society tells us not to, but what if that is our own dissociation from the impending end. The person who has no qualms about sharing, is the person who knows himself, who accepts that what he offers may not be appreciated by all, but frankly, does not care. Because the joy is in connection. Or at least in the try. And connection cannot come without (over)sharing. It is, after all, daring to forge connectedness. Imagine that.

I share a lot of myself with my clients. Many would say too much. When they have a union that is deteriorating, and maybe telling me about it benefits our connectedness, I tell them about the demise of mine. I (over)share mostly because it is part of me and mostly because I am weary of maintaining arm’s length.

I (over)share also because I cannot expect anyone to tell me their secrets unless I am willing to show them (some of) mine. I (over)share for military justice.

 

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