I have a theory I was sharing with my team the other day that everyone has a certain number of words they need to say every day.  The number of words is specific to each person — some people, I think, genuinely have more to say — but each person has an allotment all their own.

In keeping with this theory, if you don’t use all your words, you get to the end of the day and just want to chat someone’s ear off.  Not because they care necessarily about what you’re saying or that what you’re saying has significant meaning… just the urge to talk and share is not satisfied yet.  Likewise if you spend the day talking, you may have already used more words than your comfortable allotment.  These days may find you perfectly content to sit in silence because the act of verbalizing any more thoughts just seems like work.

And while I didn’t share it with my team, I also think that a person’s allotment of words can shift over time.  We develop habits and patterns that can influence what feels comfortable.

When I first started working from home, it was a challenge for me to adjust to a new normal on the word-usage front.  Before that, I was literally the social coordinator at the office for all company-sponsored events (holiday party, summer outing, random happy hours, etc) in addition to my actual job.  As a result, I knew everyone, and everyone knew me.  I used a lot of words, both work related and social.  Constantly conveying and sharing ideas.  Since I’m more naturally introverted, the role was challenging and interesting because it pushed me to explore those limits.  And I think I actually got pretty good at it.

Then I moved, started working from home, and had a baby, all pretty much at the same time.  Instead of having so many people stop by my desk to chat that I couldn’t get anything done, I was now faced with the reality that hours and hours went by when I spoke not a word.  I was probably more productive than I’ve ever been in my life, but I won’t pretend I didn’t also go a little crazy, too.  (Crazy? what? me? yes. I know – tough to believe.)  And rather than bombard my husband with those unused words at the end of the day, we were too physically exhausted from the whole “we have an infant” thing to care about talking.   Words backed up in my brain, unused.  Unspoken.

And just like a consulting budget, not only do you lose what is left unused, but your allotment is downsized.   If I had stopped and thought about it, which I didn’t, I would potentially have realized that my new “comfortable” was down to a shockingly low volume of words.  Especially shocking because words are so… me. 

It’s not that I didn’t have ideas or wasn’t thinking deeply about things.  I was; my brain wasn’t off.  But — and bear with me here as I attempt to articulate this — there’s a different level of effort that goes into composing a thought for more public consumption (meaning not just myself) than when I think about things exclusively internally.   I tend to think – as do most people – in half thoughts and thought fragments.  I brush by topics in my brain the way one would walk down an aisle of sweaters with one hand out, running along the fabric looking for one that feels soft.  When you’re verbalizing and interacting with people, you lose that “I’m just browsing, thanks” option.

Lazy is actually maybe an apt description, though I find I’m reluctant to use it.

Writing this blog has had an interesting side effect that I didn’t anticipate.  When I started it a few months ago, I was stretching out some pretty tight muscles to take personal (non-work related) thoughts and attempt to articulate them in a consumable format.  To think about a topic from a few different angles and feel around for an approach.  It’s a lot of fun, and one of my favorite exercises.  And this is coming from a girl who loves her exercise.

And what I find that it’s doing is making me want to discuss things.  Talk about things.  Random, doesn’t-really-directly-need-to-be-discussed-at-the-moment things.  Ideas.  I suddenly want to use all these words that have been sitting on the shelf.  Like that part of my brain is waking up again.

The truly unfortunate part is that nothing has really changed in the pattern of my day to day to provide me an outlet for all these rediscovered words.  The manifestation, therefore, has been some pretty random outpourings by yours truly on some unsuspecting victims.  “Oh, good morning… what do you think about the argument that the Holy Trinity is the counterpoint to deism?”  or “Hey, so quick question while I have you — do you think there’s any scientific basis for the whole birth order thing?”  Yeah.  I know.  I’m like the woman who stopped me on the side of the road while I was jogging to ask me how I liked living in this neighborhood but basically asked me to provide a verbal essay comparing and contrasting rural Virginia and Los Angeles.

Now that the floodgates are open, so to speak, I will try to contain my wordiness to my blog.  That’s what it’s here for, after all.  But if you’re someone who interacts with me on even a semi-regular basis, I apologize now for either previous or upcoming outpourings. And be forewarned that if you sit down next to me, I might just talk your ear off.