Sharing a Fine Whine
Whining often gets a bad rap.
Culturally, it conjures images of someone stuck in the past, replaying the same story to anyone who will listen. Or we think of SNL’s Debbie Downer, who could turn any situation into pure awfulness. Or we picture the outrage-loop of social media—enflamed complaining designed to escalate collective fury.
That’s not the kind of whining I mean.
The good kind of whining—yes, there is such a thing—offers a safe space to let down our guard and share honestly with a few compassionate souls. It gives voice to our feelings so they don’t fester. And then, ideally, it helps us return to ourselves, more resourced and ready for what’s next.
In a time when so many of us are overwhelmed—by world news, personal challenges, and the general too-muchness of life—good whining can be a release valve.
I don’t need to tell you it’s crazy out there. Global conflicts. ICE raids. Military buildups. And then, on top of it all, there’s our personal lives.
Last week, my own pressure valve blew. My husband and I were overwhelmed by an all-consuming project. Then he took a fall (thankfully, just a terrible black eye), our furnace-water heater combo died, leaving us without hot water or heat, and the dog needed surgery. And more. It was just… too… much.
Thinking doesn’t help
In moments like this, my inner critic likes to chime in with unhelpful “wisdom:”
“These are first-world problems.”
“Other people have it so much worse.”
Technically true. But dismissing my feelings doesn’t help me move through them. I can’t think my way out of emotional overload.
Inside me is a petulant child who wants to be heard and comforted. She may appear calm and functional on the outside—but she’s very much alive on the inside. When’s she’s heard, she settles; when ignored, she finds a way to get attention.
Too often, what we call “rational conversation” in the media or online is actually just that child screaming under the surface, pretending to be reasonable. We cover our emotions with a mask of logic. But the child still needs somewhere to go.
Of course, unloading on an unsuspecting customer service rep isn’t recommended. But neither is stuffing it all down. The feelings have to go somewhere.
The body remembers
When we don’t express our emotions, our bodies often hold them for us.
Recently, I’ve been asking a lot of my body—to store the political rage, the grief over lost friends, the overwhelm of daily life. Last week, during a long-overdue bodywork session, my body talked back.
As my muscles relaxed, I could almost hear it say:
“OMG. We needed this. Do you even realize how much we’ve been carrying for you?
You complain about your neck and shoulders—while we’ve been stockpiling all your upset, anger, and sadness—so you could stay functional and creative.
We took on the heavy lifting of what you didn’t want to express. But here’s the thing:
Calling it a ‘first-world problem’ doesn’t make it lighter. We don’t discriminate. We hold it all.
And now, we need support too.”
The body was right. It deserved better.
Enter: the art of the whine
Luckily, I recently rediscovered the power of a good whine. I texted a couple of close friends with a simple SOS: “It’s too much.”
Within minutes, I received loving, grounded replies:
“It’s a lot.”
“You’re not crazy.”
“We’re with you.”
No one tried to fix me. They just held me.
Their simple responses helped me breathe again. I could return to my work, feeling heard and less alone.
Four (Okay, Five) Keys to a Good Whine:
- Don’t judge your whines—and don’t cling to them.
Let yourself feel what you feel. Whine. Then come back to yourself and move on. - Choose your audience wisely.
This is key. Share only with people who truly get you, who can hold your feelings without inflating or minimizing them. You want friends who remember your strengths and know that a whine is just one moment in your whole, capable self. - Keep it fresh.
Save the old loops and deep patterns for your therapist. A good whine is about the now. - Let it rip—and let it go.
A whine can be short, sweet, and full-bodied. It’s not a lifestyle—it’s a moment. Savor it, then release it. - Remember: your whine is not the whole story.
You can still delight in morning birdsong, purple balloon flowers, or—my favorite—the first ripe raspberries. Life still offers sweetness, even when it’s hard.
Why Good Whining Matters
A good whine tells your body: “You can stand down. I’ve got this one.”
It reminds you: “This is hard—but I’m not alone.”
It reconnects you with the people who love you.
It makes you grateful.
It reminds you of who you are.
So, thank you to the friends who let us whine. Who help us remember our strength, even when we, for a moment, have forgotten. Who hold us just as we are, knowing that on other days, we will be holding them.
