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.
