“Perwisyo.” We borrowed “perjuicio” from Spanish and tweaked its use to completely alter the definition. In English, we mean “nuisance” or “inconvenience” when we say “perwisyo,” and I usually have a grand ol’ time making a big stink about it.

I was a whiner as a kid, and I grew up to be a kvetch. It’s a draining and repulsive character to be. Instead of being a light that blesses, I was like a black hole of negativity, sucking other people’s good nature. Thankfully, I got tired of my own gripes and sought to stop being such a bellyacher.

Here’s some of the tea about complaining that sages have spilled over time:

“Complaining is finding faults. Wisdom is finding solutions.” — Ajahn Brahm (British monk)

“Champions never complain, they are too busy getting better.” — John Wooden (American basketball coach)

“Complaining is a complete waste of one’s energy. Those who complain the most, accomplish the least.” — Anonymous

“When you complain, you make yourself a victim. Leave the situation, change the situation, or accept it. All else is madness.” — Eckhart Tolle (German self-help author)

“The only thing complaining does is convince other people that you are not in control.” — Unknown

Complaining isn’t altogether bad. It can help improve situations, rectify wrongs, etc. Still, if your knee-jerk reaction is to complain over every little thing that displeases you, it just might already be a habit, an unattractive trait that already characterizes you. If so, consider the following tips for breaking the pattern:

1. Pause and count to three. This allows you to control your reaction and gauge whether your initial reaction is merited, as well as picture where it could possibly lead.
2. Adjust your perspective. Problems do offer opportunities for improvement, so shift the focus from your irritation to the possible solutions.
3. Affirm things that work. Develop the inclination to acknowledge and highlight things that are going right. This will help curb your tendency to focus on the negative.
4. Practice empathy. If you automatically put yourself in others’ shoes, your tendency to immediately complain may wane.
5. Make gratitude your default. If you’re truly thankful for what you have in your life, you tend not to sweat the small stuff, and complaining stops being your first response.

I hope this helps. Comment any other helpful tips you may have.

P.S. I’d love for you to check out my most recent story on Medium ~ A Cat on a Shoulder to Lean on. 🙂 Edit: Don’t bother clicking that link! I quit Medium. I’ll add the story below so you can simply read it here. ❤

P.P.S. Incidentally, my tribute book to the cat in the story’s starring role, is available on Kindle. I would really appreciate the support ~ Onyx’s Outside Adventure.

A Cat on a Shoulder to Lean on

There’s nothing more comforting than a tsundere cat deigning to be sweet to you.

(Onyx, Tsundere and Patriarch of the Goze Clowder)

“I understand,” I told the nurse at the other end of the line. “I’ll call again in a few hours.

With a trembling hand, I set the landline receiver down. Trying to digest what I’d just been told and add it to the growing list of bad news I’d been getting in the last week or so, I heavily leaned back against my husband’s office chair. I felt like I was drowning under a tsunami of misfortune. I took a deep breath to calm myself and keep the negativity at bay. It only afforded me a couple of seconds of respite.

It didn’t help that my laptop was sounding off almost incessantly with message after message from both kith and kin. I knew some of them would be expressing condolences. Others would be offering words of encouragement and comfort. I was fine with those. I could copy-paste the appropriate response. While that might sound thoughtless, it doesn’t mean my replies were insincere. There were just too many to deal with, and my thoughts were already taken up by so many much graver concerns that it was good to just mindlessly click a couple of keys.

I surreptitiously took a peek at the brief flashes of notification previews. Sure enough, my Messenger was hopping with messages from people asking for an update. They shared the same string of questions: “When is your dad’s memorial service? How’s your mom doing? What about your sister? How are you and your family?”

We wanted Mom to be part of the memorial, but first she had to survive her own fight with COVID-19. At that moment, she had just started her series of hemoperfusions, and things were pretty much still touch-and-go. My sister was all alone at their house, grieving by herself while also moderately sick with COVID. Our nearby cousins also had COVID. Only my family remained COVID-free, but my husband, God bless him, was really standing up and serving my side of the family, effectively taking care of everything and risking infection while I stayed home with our young children. Because he was frequently going to the hospital, we couldn’t even suffer our loss together. The boys were pretty much unaware of what was going on, but my eldest could already understand and needed a lot of comfort.

The questions shouldn’t have been so hard to answer, but I just wasn’t equal to much at that time. All I wanted to do was let my shoulders sag from the weight they were trying to bear. I sat there and closed my eyes, willing my mind to go blank to get some relief from the mental exhaustion.

From out of nowhere, I felt somebody touch my shoulder. I froze and glanced to the side to see who it was. I saw a black face with yellow-green eyes. Awe-struck, I held my breath and waited for what would transpire next. The body attached to the face settled itself on my shoulder, a warm, solid weight that I very much welcomed at the time.

It was Onyx, my daughter’s cat, a black Scottish Straight and Russian Blue mix typically teeming with snootiness. He liked to prowl around the house like a miniature jungle cat. He tended to look at his co-habitants with disdain, daring us to even try and pet him. He spent his days napping and looking out the window, checking out the neighborhood’s feline community. Although he was an indoor cat, he liked to think he was a toughie, challenging other toms to even try and enter his turf and calling out flirty yowls at the queens.

He usually had no use for me other than the person who usually filled his bowls. Around mealtime, he would grudgingly allow me to stroke him, but for the rest of the day, he was off like a shot as soon as I made any move to touch him.

Very much contrary to his usually aloof and grumpy self, Onyx soothingly rubbed his face against my head and offered a low purr of comfort.

Incredibly moved by this very unexpected gesture of kindness, I let a sob escape even as I reached up to thankfully stroke his face. As the tears flowed down my face, Onyx moved down to my lap and curled up there as though about to take a nap, another thing quite unheard of when it came to him.

Even after my tears subsided, he stayed on my lap, allowing my hand to caress him.

“Oh my gosh! Onyx is letting you hold him in your lap?” my daughter Marguerite’s voice exploded at us. Our special moment over, Onyx jumped off my lap and made a beeline for his litter box, smoothly evading my Marguerite’s reaching arms.

“How did you get him to stay on your lap?” she demanded.

I just shrugged. “Onyx has his tender moments.”

Marguerite beamed in pride. “He’s a real tsundere.” A manga fan, she used a term that describes a character who is initially cold but turns more affectionate over time. “Come here, my little tsundere!”

She went off to pester her pet and left me to mull over that precious gift from the unlikeliest of givers. Blessed with that sweet experience, I felt touched by God.

…Onyx passed away in 2022, but his memory lives and blesses on. I wrote a little tribute book for him under one of my pseudonyms. I would love for you to check it out, Onyx’s Outside Adventure.