How do I stop this?
a letter from a reader about complaining
I’m excited to bring back the letters/Q+A posts, if you want to send me a letter/question/comment, you can do it here. I learn so much when others share their experiences so I hope this section can be a supportive space for all of us.
Hi! I’ve been thinking about the silent effects of complaining. I notice myself constantly pointing out what’s wrong—whether it’s the temperature in a restaurant, the flaws in a trip, or small daily frustrations. I know it’s pushing people away, but I don’t know how to stop.
With my partner, I find myself either trying to preempt the complaints or shutting down when they happen. I love him deeply, but this pattern is draining both of us. I wish I could let things go, accept life as it is, and stop feeling the need to highlight what’s wrong.
I do see the good, but my mind latches onto imperfections, and before I know it, I’m listing everything that bothers me. Then comes the guilt, the self-judgment, and the realization that I’ve pushed someone away again. I want to change. Any thoughts about this monster?
Thank you,
Chronic Complainer
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Dear Chronic Complainer,
Thank you for stretching yourself and sharing your experience with us. Complaining, as you said, is indeed a silent, insidious monster that eats away at us—little by little, every day.
To be honest, I lean more toward the pessimistic/realistic side myself, which makes me an empathetic complainer?! This is to say—I get it. The whole "glass half full, glass half empty" thing— I understand why we have to look at the half-empty part. Somebody has to, right? Some people wish they could complain more but instead try to find a silver lining, while others rely on complaining to make sense of themselves and their emotions. It’s all human. It all belongs.
From a psychological perspective, complaining is actually a rich and layered phenomenon. It’s a big megaphone. An intersection. A person who complains often is usually carrying a combination of negative emotions they can’t fully allow themselves to feel. There’s an unmet need, and because it’s not being attended to, the way to "deal with it" is to externalize it—putting it out into the world so others can hear, take care of it, fix it, or validate it.
I know that for myself, when I go into "complaining mode," it’s usually because there’s something I’m not giving myself—something I’m deeply worried, upset with or angry about but not fully in touch with. It starts to surface through complaining. And, inevitably, the people closest to me will feel its impact. My complaints become a way to either gain some sense of control over the situation or to make myself feel better, superior, or relieved.
Underneath chronic complaining, there’s often frustration, worry, criticism, dissatisfaction, and disappointment—feelings that are usually turned inward. There may be a need for validation, a desire for change, or a deep sense of powerlessness. In essence, complaining becomes a coping mechanism—a way to relieve the pressure of these difficult emotions without facing them directly.
From a psychoanalytic perspective, complaining can function as a projection defense—where we project unconscious feelings of inadequacy, helplessness, or aggression onto others. It can also be a form of displacement, another type of defense, redirecting frustration onto immediate situations that has nothing to do with the complaint when, in reality, it stems from deeper experiences—our childhood attachments, our anxieties, or other unresolved wounds.
Some possible underlying drivers of complaining:
It gives us something to focus on.
It creates a sense of control.
It puts us in a superior position.
It is an attempt to keep people away.
It makes us feel momentarily justified or entitled.
It provides the illusion that we’re “doing something about something”—taking action.
It provokes reactions from others.
It reflects back the inner critic we carry within.
It helps relieve envy or discomfort.
And, ultimately, it makes us feel better by externalizing.
There’s another layer to this: self-sabotage. Complaining can be a way to take something good and mess it up by focusing on what’s wrong—so we don’t have to endure the vulnerability of experiencing contentment, happiness, or connection. Strange, right? But we do this. We can ruin things for ourselves and others, just as you’ve already noticed. Some of us have a low tolerance for “the good.” It makes us feel vulnerable, like the rug is about to be pulled out from under us. Maybe we experienced that as children, so we don’t trust unfamiliar feelings of ease. Or maybe our need to be seen and validated is so strong that it overrides our capacity to accept reality as it is—even when it’s good or good enough.
From a contemplative perspective, we fixate on complaining as a habitual expression of dissatisfaction that can reinforce negative mental states, strengthen attachment to suffering, and obscure the mind's natural clarity and openness. Tibetan Buddhist approach invites mindfulness, compassion, and self-inquiry. It’s not about silencing discomfort but about transforming it into wisdom and a deeper sense of interconnectedness.
Now, back to your question: How do I stop this?
Something I often tell my clients in psychotherapy is that we don’t want to “stop” anything. Instead, we want to get to know it—really know it—so intimately that we can allow it to exist within us without being consumed by it. Chances are, this pattern has served you in some way up until now. We want to understand it, engage with it, and begin a dialogue rather than trying to erase it.
So instead of asking, How do I stop complaining? try asking:
This part of me wants/needs to complain in order to…? (You fill in the blank.)
Some other questions to consider:
What am I not in touch with?
What gratification do I think I’m getting from this?
How am I trying to connect with others but don’t know how?
What am I truly frustrated, angry, or disappointed about?
On a collective level, I also want to acknowledge that it can feel impossible not to complain, given the world we’re living in. Believe me, I have to check myself daily to avoid becoming the very echo chamber I’m describing here—using complaints as a way to cope, to find relief, or to feel some sense of control. That’s why it’s crucial, especially in times like these, to find the spaces, people, and outlets that truly support us—so we don’t have to rely on complaining as our main coping strategy. Nobody wins when we’re stuck in an endless loop of complaints. Well, actually, some do—the ones who thrive on keeping us fearful, distracted, and burned out.
So chin up and raise that vibration, as my aunt used to say.
At its core, complaining is your way of signaling that something within you needs care. Pause and listen to that. Pause and learn to give yourself what you need—little by little, every day.
I hope this helps!
With love,
Mariana
