If a tree falls in the forest
I don’t remember a time when I didn’t talk to myself. I still do, and quite often. There are only two things I do more frequently – breathe and blink.
It’s not uncommon for me to shock myself by what flies out of my mouth. Sometimes it’s offensive or completely inappropriate. Sometimes, I walk around my house inventing, reliving, or rewriting entire conversations. Sometimes I say things I would never say in the presence of others – besides my dog.
She’s always lurking nearby. She hears everything. One of my worst nightmares is waking up one day to learn that she understands and speaks perfect English and inked a book deal. Luckily, dogs take everything to the grave better than anyone.
Kids, on the other hand, can become writers.
Two pillars of strength
I was an only child and the first born grandchild on both sides of my family. I realize not everybody is fortunate to have these remarkable figures in their lives. I will always be grateful for they time I had with my grandparents, particularly my grandmothers. Mine are pictured below, above me and my mom.
Grandma Libbey (top left) passed in 2011, on my 37th birthday. Grandma Garrod (top right) passed in April, 2013. They were instrumental in planting the seeds in my head of compassion, understanding, acceptance, humility, and love before experiencing the craziness I would soon encounter.
I was five when my parents divorced. I lived with my dad and he married my step-mother when I was nine. I was 13 when my first half-brother was born.
I was my first best friend
I’m still my mother’s only child. The boy I was outside my house was different than the boy inside, accompanied mainly by his toys and imagination.
It was in first grade when I knew I didn’t feel a way toward girls that was expected. I was different and I knew it. I liked boys. I never felt bad because my feelings were natural and real. That’s when I began keeping secrets.
Early on, I mastered the art of deflection. I learned to adapt to situations, but I’ve never been a convincing liar.
I never wanted to be a convincing liar. I lied enough to others for 20 years about how I felt. However, I cannot and never will lie to myself.
That’s why I say – be your own best friend and listen to what you have to say.
There’s no point in lying to yourself
You’re the only one who knows your truth. One of life’s greatest rewards is having a friend who understands you and isn’t afraid to bring you down a notch or two. You can’t be that friend to anybody else until you’re that friend to yourself.
You learned to write for a reason
Writing your thoughts on paper is one of the most effective ways to have a meaningful conversation between you and yourself – especially if you talk to yourself. If you can read it, you can talk yourself through it. You don’t have to keep it. Burn it when you’re done. The goal is to give yourself the candid advice you’d give anyone else.
Always ask yourself, “Why?”
One of the hardest things to do is change your mind. It can be a process and it can take years. It depends how stubborn you can be and it’s not always easy to question whoever’s responsible for you thinking the way you do.
All I can say to that is listen to your inner voice. You’re doing yourself a disservice if you think a certain way because someone told you how to think. There’s nothing wrong with questioning what you’ve been told to believe.
Just remember
Your life is what you make it. It’s a gift that someone else can easily rip away from you. It’s an opportunity to know your true self. It’s your responsibility to make sure you’re driving. Pick the battles you’re willing to see through a new lens. You might like what you see. You might not. At least you can sleep every night comforted by the fact that you tried.
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