I’ve Lost My Voice

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Pile of Stones on the Beach

~ Trigger Alert ~

The voice inside my head, that is.  It’s alright, I’m only slightly crazy and I’m not talking about psychosis or hallucination or anything else from a slightly scarier spectrum of Mental Health.  However, there is a voice inside my head, it’s like the record that I live my life to, I know the track so well, the intonation and the insinuations, the voice that always seems to come from nowhere but yet is a constant companion.

The voice is always there, watching what I do, ready to tell me what it thinks, ready to tell me not to bother, ready to remind me just how much I’ve messed something up.  I drop something and it’s yelling at me for being so clumsy, so stupid, so fat and that I can never do anything right, that I always get everything wrong, that it’s no wonder that no one likes me.

The voice deals in absolutes.  Negative ones naturally.

The voice dishes out abuse in spades, it keeps me in my place, down there in some deep, dark abyss of feeling rotten.

The voice is the one that looks at what I do and tells me what’s wrong with it.  There’s always something wrong.  Because I’m just not good enough.

The voice monitors me for pride.  Pride is very wrong.  Only bad people are proud.  It is the conscience with a red-hot pitchfork.  It tells me to shut up and not be so stupidly big-headed.

The voice tells me that I’m not good enough and that no one likes me again and again.

The voice loops words and phrases, uses them against me like some mantra, cycles them repeatedly.  One word links to another.  Inescapable.

Words like lazy and fat and stupid and ugly and stupid.

If you are lazy, you are fat.

If you are fat, you are ugly.

If you are ugly, you are fat.

If you are lazy, you are stupid.

If you are stupid, you are ugly.

If you are lazy, you are fat.

The words all tie together.  If one is true then they must all be true.  A kind of logic.

The voice has a rhythm, it has its rhymes.

I can’t remember when the record started.  I don’t know life without it.  It’s been there for years, literally years, probably decades.

But now it’s gone.

At first, I didn’t even notice and when I did, I realised that I hadn’t heard it for weeks.

It’s weird.

I’ve already almost forgotten the words of the record that has played every day of my life for twenty years.

It is silent.

It’s weird.

The voice has gone.

Now what do I do?!

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26 thoughts on “I’ve Lost My Voice

  1. Huzzah! Wondeful news, IE :-) I bet the positive self talk is bubbling away quietly without you realising it….here in this space, I look forward to more of the strong, principled voice I read every time I come.

  2. Good. Kick that voice in the arse! Firmly. Now you have a new voice, a lovely kind voice and kindness is the most important. This kind voice (that i see again and again in your comments) is very quiet yet. listen for it.. it has been there all along and it Loves you!! c

  3. It sounds like this is a good voice to lose. I hope the more positive one shines through. Make sure it does! It’s mostly up to you, but it is always good to have support. Nice writing.

  4. Is rejoice too strong a word? That’s what I’m doing, just reading this.

    Would it be all right with you if I read this to my class of Women in Transition? Generally, I’m trying to help them find their voices, but this one that you’re talking about so eloquently has got to go first. When it’s taking up all the air space, you can’t listen for what you might really have to say, or think, or be.

    • Aw, I’m really touched! Please read away, I don’t know the secret to losing it as I said earlier but if helps someone else then isn’t that the bestest thing of all? Thank you. :)

    • It’s taken a while though and I don’t quite know how it happened, a lot of good, supportive people in my life now and small but growing amounts of confidence. Thank you so much! :)

  5. Now? Now you start to truly live. I think maybe the voice IS still there, but you’ve discovered that you can blare your own music louder and drown the fucker out. Which is as it should be. Now, you can get on the swings.

    • Thanks for remembering about the swings, I’m still trying to get to those, never any around when you want there to be! I don’t know yet about the living, I’m just trying to get used to the silence! :)

I'd love to know what you think, concrit is especially welcomed on fiction pieces. Thank you.

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