Reprinted from The Town Courier Newspapers If I Do Say So Myself… By: Maureen Stiles It is a stream of consciousness really. Not an actual conversation. I hear my voice wafting through the air unrefuted and there is some satisfaction in it. But there is mortification as well because I am unabashedly talking to myself. And it is not the first time. I can’t say exactly when they started, these conversations with myself, but they are becoming more frequent. Maybe it began in the solitude of living alone before marriage and kids and the general loss of my sanity and viable brain cells. Yet, I don’t remember talking to myself in my 20’s. All of my thoughts lived in my head in perfect order with nary a chance of interruption. Now, I talk to myself as a mechanism to keep ideas from getting swallowed up in the chaos of the moment most often between the pleas for food and the beeping of the microwave. Most of these conversations seem to happen in the kitchen and the car where the kids buzz around me like flies. I swat at them with random, stray thoughts subconsciously hoping to disarm or momentarily stun them. Unfortunately, they would actually have to be listening to me for this to be effective. That is why I often talk to myself just so I know that my voice can be heard aloud. No one else seems to hear what I say, so it is a little check-point for me. You know sort of like when you plug your ears so you can see what your voice sounds like without the music on the radio when you sing. Now my kids use this against me. When I have to repeat myself, they counter with the defense that they assumed I was just talking to myself again. To which I automatically retort, “I do NOT talk to myself.” Owning the lie keeps me from looking at them in the gulf of silence that follows, complete with eye rolls and smirks I am sure. I don’t care if they pity me as long as they do what I ask them to do. Other times I talk to myself because it is calming. For instance, when Reed is repeatedly stomping the back of the driver’s seat as he sits behind me trying to shove his feet into last season’s cleats on the way to soccer while I am driving 65 miles per hour on I-270. Repeating “He’ll be done in a minute,” “He’ll be done in a minute,” over and over keeps me from veering off the road and throwing the cleats off an overpass. I know lots of women of a certain age who talk to themselves. I know not one man. So we can just add this little tic to the long list of genetic cruelties rendered an eventuality at birth. We have monthly cycles, pregnancy, child birth, menopause, mammograms and, apparently, mindless chatter with ourselves. My mother talks to herself, her mother talked to herself and this gives me solace even if it gives my husband a reason to relentlessly make fun of me. On the rare occasions that I work from my office, there is a buzz in the open pit of desks as we all mutter to ourselves. I reached an all new low recently when I actually called myself Maureen Margaret as I lamented my stupidity while editing a document. None of the women even gave it a second thought. Well, at least no one laughed out loud which is what I expected. Which brings me to an unexpected benefit of getting a dog. Instead of talking to myself, I am going to start talking to Murphy. The fact that he can’t actually answer is inconsequential when compared to the overall advantage of having a target audience. So now, no more wondering aloud where my keys are. I will simply say, “Murphy, where are my keys?” His ears will perk up at the sound of his name and he will appear as if this is a scintillating exchange. See boys, Mommy isn’t crazy, she is engaging the dog so he feels like a worthy and valued part of the household. And this household, as usual, needs to take their cues from the dog. He loves me unconditionally. I bet he finds my chatter comforting or at least useful as an audio compass enabling him to follow me around the house all day. And that is the lesson here ….follow the chatter. Because you never know when I might throw you a bone amidst that annoying stream of consciousness.
Posted on: Mon, 09 Sep 2013 13:19:33 +0000