at the considerable risk of sounding nuts

I'm willing to admit this to you, dear relatives/friends/blog-trolling-strangers: I talk to myself every now and then.

Not in a disturbed way, or a conversation-with-people-who-aren't-really-there way, but in the way that Totally Normal People sometimes talk to themselves when they're alone. Oh, come on, you do it too. Sometimes it's just soothing to say things out loud, to vent them or to hear how they might sound if you actually said them to someone else.

Today I was giving voice to some very negative feelings about my ability to do my job well, to create the friendly and cozy and clean (someday, damn it) home I'd really like to have (and to find two new likeable roommates to share it), to be a good friend (starting with calling - or calling back - the many many people to whom I own phone calls), and to take care of myself in basic ways like getting regular exercise and enough sleep (these and a social life have not figured out how to coexist in my life as of yet) (at least not with a day job in the picture).

(Why did all this come up today? Because the need to do all of these things is feeling very immediate, and because I have been and will be working too many hours a day all last week, all weekend, and all the coming week, and I have not been sleeping enough, and just maybe because I tend to be too hard on myself.)

And oddly, I think it was kind of good for me to disparage myself out loud for a few minutes, because it's a little easier to, uh, internalize the internal voice of negativity that (luckily doesn't gnaw on my self-esteem very often, but) gets all jumpy and excitable now and then. But when it's external, even when the voice is my own, it triggers my defensive "hey, be nice" reaction that cringes to hear mean things said and gets angry and self-righteous toward whoever says them because, let's face it, being mean is stupid and doesn't do anyone a damn bit of good.

Those of us that survived junior high most likely know what it feels like to be on either the giving or receiving end of belittling snideness, and that it's somewhat more fun to lock yourself in a well-used porta-potty on a hot day. Being on both the giving and receiving end simultaneously feels perhaps somewhat efficient, but saddening. And a little pathetic. And a little silly.

Which brings me back to saying things out loud (or journaling, I suppose... or blogging): It is a good thing to name my insecurities, for once named they become things I can hold to the light and consider and make some decisions about, rather than remaining an ache in my head or a lump in my throat. And it becomes clearer that it is useless to berate my own potential for overcoming them.

It is also a good thing to take a nap and then go for a 11-mile ride on the beautiful hybrid bicycle I just bought off craigslist, and to housesit in the woods, from where I will hopefully be able to see meteors tonight before I sleep (soon).