As a parent, I think the words I say most often (after “eat with your mouth closed”) might just be “stop complaining.” Kids do it all the time. Mostly because when you’re a kid, life feels unfair a lot of the time. You can’t do whatever you want, when you want, and it sucks. And what they are very, very good at is expressing this feeling. Loudly.

Of course, there are different types of complaining. There’s the kind when you’re trying to problem-solve. The kind when you’re venting about something or someone, which in and of itself may get you to the heart of the issue… and solve the problem. Finally there's the type of complaining that is the least useful, which is dwelling. Or ruminating. Turning it over and over in your mind. Being overly negative. 

What has made me think so much about complaining—and that perhaps it is something we need to do more, rather than less—is because you can’t read or listen to anything now without coming across the idea of stoicism. Over the last 10 years, it has traveled from university lecture halls to the zeitgeist and beyond. I challenge you to find a Silicon Valley billionaire who does not consider themselves a “stoic” (among them, Warren Buffet, Jeff Bezos, Mark Cuban, Jack Dorsey) and lists Meditations (the stoicism bible, which was written by Marcus Aurelius, Roman Emperor from AD 161 to 180, ) as one of their top reads. 

By simple definition, stoicism is the endurance of pain or hardship without the display of feelings and without complaint. This perfectly describes how my hard-working grandmother—the wife of a farmer, who worked just as hard as he did—lived her life. As did many women of her generation and before. They weathered their lives, making the most of things. Perhaps she did so happily, but I have to imagine that she also learned to swallow her frustrations rather than be overwhelmed by them, at different points in her life. 

So in a way, powerful (mainly) men adopting a philosophy of weathering stress in this quiet, still, reasonable and rationale way seems like a step back. A kind of muzzling of emotions and compartmentalising that we have spent so many years trying to change.

Of course, it’s not just the billionaires. There are endless newsletters, instagram accounts, community groups and self-help books. During the pandemic, Stoicism’s popularity has grown. Print sales of Meditations by Marcus Aurelius went up 28% in the first part of 2020 and print sales of Seneca's Letters from a Stoic increased 42%. 

Podcast host Tim Ferriss’s TED Talk on Stoicism has more than three million views. He says: Stoicism doesn't force a person to be a “cow standing in the rain accepting whatever tragedy and terrible circumstances befall it,” but rather provides a way to thrive in high-stress environments. “It is a framework for making better decisions and training yourself to be less reactive,” says Ferriss in a YouTube video.

Still, I wonder if this only suits people who find a comfortable place within the system. Creating change or finding new ways to tackle old problems, requires us to react. It requires us to feel angry. It requires us to speak up. It definitely requires us to complain. Loudly. 

Venting about a problem will often help it crystallise. Anyone who has ever bonded with colleagues over a horrible [insert boss, colleague, barista here] knows that dissatisfaction can breed friendship quickly. And while it might not create the strongest bond in the world, at work and socially, uniting against a common enemy does create bonds. And camaraderie. The feedback we get, post-complain, can then give us perspective. Sharing something that bothers us is also a way to validate feelings when someone has crossed the line. Hearing someone else react in the same way will often let you know you are on the right track. It’s a good way to gauge when boundaries need to be redrawn, perhaps, with colleagues, friends or partners. 

So next time you’re miffed, don’t put so much pressure on yourself to keep calm. Instead, try venting. It could help you figure out what’s really bothering you. It might just bring you to a better place. The kids might just be onto something.