Hyperbole Can Kill You
Make You Wish You Were Deadby Kathy L. Coogan
I have a theory. I believe that the way you describe your life, your situation, your work controls you. And I believe that hyperbole is a killer. Hyperbole kills attitude, mood, love and reality.
that the only mail I ever get is a million bills;
that I got no sleep last night;
that my husband is clueless about all I have to do;
that the phone is ringing off the hook;
that people won’t leave me alone.
What if I were to be cross-examined while I was hooked up to a polygraph machine?
Let’s work backwards through the description of my crazy day.
Polygraph Person: How many people are in the room with you right now?
PP: Is the phone ringing?
Me: Not right this second.
PP: Yes or no, please.
PP: Did your husband just offer to empty the dishwasher?
PP: Did you go to bed at eleven, wake up to pee at 3:00 and wake up when the alarm went off at 7:00?
Me: Um, yes.
PP: Does your mail include bills from the gas and electric company, your mortgage and your credit card company plus the postcard from your friends in Costa Rica, an invitation to a bat mitzvah and a thank you note from your grandson for the $20 you sent him just because he is a great kid?
Me: Okay, yes.
PP: Do you feel better about your day? Is your pulse slower, your blood pressure down?
Me: Well, maybe.
Nothing changed except the description. The words I used created the bad mood, caused the anger and made me sick.
I am recovering from the Hyperbole Disease e.g.:
“No one understands me.”
“I’ve worn this dress a hundred times.”
“Everyone in my family is nuts.”
The truth is all I need to have a great life is:
a talk with a friend,
a trip through T.J. Maxx and
a glass of wine with my sisters.