There are plenty of voices in my head, which are most of the time, competing for my attention and tormenting me with their unruly forces. Usually the voices are screaming at me to buy the more expensive wine, or go shoe shopping (again) or turn and give that cute guy over there your best glance. Sometimes they scream at me to not eat the cheese omelet and mimosa for breakfast with a side of bacon goodness and toast with real butter. Other times they tell me that my slow self is too slow to continue running and that I’ll never see the finish line if I don’t pick my ever-loving-turtle pace up.
Other voices tell me that I’ve adopted too many dogs and that I can’t save them all. Or that I take on too many extra curricular activities between my child advocate work and fundraising/training for half marathons raising funds for cancer research.
Of course there the voices that berate me for letting the roots on my hair get way to out of control and looking like Courtney Love on 3-week drug binge. Let’s not forget the voices that are often louder than the rest that constantly point out the fat cells on my thighs, arms and the dreaded abdomen area. It’s like I’ve got Carni Wilson all up in there telling me it is okay to eat the damn biscuit with blue cheese and left over cupcakes from hosting my recent holiday party. It’s not ok, Carni. It’s just not.
The worst ones are voices of boyfriends past. Those voices from past boyfriends who cheated on me gawking and laughing at me knowing that my heart crumbled and left burn marks like acid on a bad pair of 80s jeans. The voices interfere with how I am treating my current relationship - constantly leaving me feel like the other shoe might come crashing to the floor. This is the most important relationship I’ve ever experienced and maybe the deepest I’ve ever felt connecting with someone. Deep…20,000 leagues under the sea deep.
Those unruly voices leave me feeling self critical, with loads of doubt that he really does like me and with suspicions that one day he too will leave. I’m tired of the chatter inside my noggin and I’m tired of feeling like I’m waiting for tragedy to set it. I’m going to write all the cruel things that have happened to me in terms of past relationships and burn the shit out of them…now if I just had a fire place inside this tiny home of mine.
Last night he told me he questions if I even need a man in my life and that I might be too busy and independent to accept one. I’ve heard this from my peers before. I listened intently to his suggestion and politely disagreed. Was he foreshadowing to something to come? Was he questioning us? He wasn’t, but those voices of doubt kept playing an Olympic-sized game of Ping-Pong in my mind. It was then I realized that the doubt I have is because I’m letting it happen. The doubt I have is because I’ve let what past relationship failures continue to live inside me. The doubt I have is from years of being a cynic and believing that at some point all men would fuck up and leave.
His statement was infact not one of foreshadowing, but one of his own insecurities. Can he keep up with someone who’s made a life for herself without being co-dependent upon someone? Who’s got a job, a mortgage, an amazing circle of friends and a family crazier than the Griswold clan on a road trip.
But, there are men out there who are genuine and care for a woman because they want to commit to HER.
Who promise not to hurt you.
Who promise that they are fond of you.
Who promise that they genuinely like spending time with you.
Who promise that you might be the prettiest girl in the restaurant.
And who mean it.