Voices

The chattering stopped. I don’t know when exactly, but it’s gone and hasn’t returned. Too bad I didn’t recognize the date and time the voice ended. It’d be nice to celebrate that anniversary each year like a birthday. The day I was born. The day I decided to bear dominion over my thoughts and my life. Whenever it was, that was the day I stopped telling myself I couldn’t. That I was wrong or bad or not worthy. It’s funny how it just vanished without my realizing. You’d think that when something that powerful goes away I’d notice. What probably happened is that the voice gradually diminished. It got softer and softer until I couldn’t hear it any more. The voice gradually lost its influence over me and in a snit of impotence just stopped and took its negativity elsewhere.

I always thought of it as mine. The voice belonged to only me. But, when it no longer resided in my head, did it go hound someone else? Is my voice now in someone else’s head telling them not to bother? Telling them to just quit? To accept the fact that they are not as good as everyone else? Second guessing them and asking who they think they are?

Every time I read something about schizophrenia I think of my voice. Thankfully there was only one. But it was like a loud and disrespectful roommate that behaved as if I didn’t exist. Its job was to scare the piss out of me every single day in every single way. My singular voice was so powerful that I can’t imagine how frightening it must be to suffer the schizophrenic continual bombardment of many voices all at once. I suppose the only consolation would be that those voices are from someone or someplace else. My voice was me. My voice was self defeating. I owned my voice. I allowed my voice to exist and rule my life. How crazy is that?

I don’t remember inviting the voice and I can’t recall when it arrived. I think it was around for a very long time before I realized it existed. Once I acknowledged it I believed that it was just a part of life and I had no choice. The voice was as integral to living as breathing. The voice wasn’t an intruder, it belonged in my head. For years, I not only indulged the voice but I gave it credibility. When sides were chosen between me and what I wanted or thought or believed and the contrary opinion of the voice, I stood in line with the voice. It always sounded more experienced and more reasonable and definitely safer. The voice would pat me on the head and remind me of my faults and inabilities.


Now that I have some perspective on the chattering I look around in amazement at how many people are battered by their own voice. Like gamblers they each have a tell. A behavior, a mannerism, a voice pattern that gives them away and announces the self destructive messages they deliver to themselves. The sneaky ones appear to be thinking about something when they tilt their head back and roll up their eyes. But I know they are at the mercy of their hypnotic voice. They aren’t evaluating what the voice tells them. They believe it and commit it not only to memory but to action. The empiric voice rules the serf like self. The voice is the master that whips them each day.

The tricky thing about these voices is that they have just as much influence over the talented and successful as they do the not so talented and not so successful. The chattering voice is an equal opportunity brute. It haunts the best of us. It scares what is best in us away. The chatter dispels our possibilities. Maybe the story of Cinderella and her cruel step sisters is really a metaphor for what we do to ourselves. Cinderella was plagued by her wicked step sisters who constantly demeaned her. We have the chatter in our heads instead. Maybe the silk slipper is a symbol of our strength. Once Cinderella put on the magic slipper her life became manageable and happy. When we have the courage to find our inner strength and allow ourselves to trust it we gain dominance over the voice that denies who we can be. Like the slipper that protected Cinderella from her evil step family, our emotional authority inoculates us against the chatter.

The voices are identity thieves. They are body snatchers. They steal our souls and wreck havoc with our lives and our sanity. They ruin any potential for happiness and satisfaction. They deny our abilities and our goodness. The voices are biblical and epic in scope and depth. They are the true serpent in the gardens of our lives. The voice tells us to concentrate on the worm instead of the apple. The worm’s objective is to second guess, to criticize and demoralize. Some of the most often used worm lines are “you should have known better” “what were you thinking” ‘you’ll never make it” “who do you think you are?” The worm bores through our sensibilities and rots the fruit of our lives. It is the disease that kills our orchards of hope.

Once we realize the voice is us we can take control. The constant chatter can be stilled only if we ignore it or tell it to be quiet. As soon as we realize that we, not the chatter, own our lives the voice is vanquished. We can then gather our tools and become the gardeners of our future. The chatter poisons our soil. Our strength of character tills and fertilizes it.

Now that my inner chatter has hushed, I realize there are other equally destructive voices that surround me. Do this. Do that. Think this. Think that. This is true. No it’s a lie. Some days I long for my one nagging voice, even if it was false. The volume of the badgering voices outside my head can be just as oppressive and dangerous. I’m grateful for the calm, clear voice that now resides not only in my head, but also my heart and soul. It may not always ring a universal truth, but it rings my truth and guides me away from the lies and protects me from the worms.