in my head
What does your inner voice say?
Is it a constant chatterbox? Does it tell you that you should hurry up, do stuff, shouldn't do stuff, can't do stuff, must do stuff, mustn't do stuff? Does it say that if you do this then that will happen and if you don't then woe betide you and all that usual inner voice doomy type rubbish.
Mine does. In fact mine would have me believe that I should always be doing something, planning something, making something, cleaning something or, failing that, bloody writing about something. It never shuts up. Never. Shuts. Up!
My inner voice, lets call it Dave for the sake of this post, is constantly driving me forward, constantly driving me mad, always making me do stuff. Dave has its uses of course but I don't always appreciate its running commentary on what I should be doing next and I don't happen to think it always has my best interests at heart.
Take last year for example. I had a brand spanking new baby, so much joy, so much fun, so much work! And yet I found myself being constantly told by Dave that I should get a job. It went something like this
"a little part time job, yes, you know, it will get you out of the house and give Betsy time with other people, go on, go on, you can do it...blah, blah, blah".
So of course I get me a "little part time job" and whilst I do enjoy it, I don't enjoy leaving the girl and I certainly don't enjoy the palaver of getting her from A to B so I can go to C then back to B so we can go home to A again. I find I'm missing her, I'm knackered and I don't quite know what I'm doing any more so I quit.
The thing is that around the time I started looking for that job I got toothache. I went to the dentist, not a problem, he filled it. Still toothache. Go back to the dentist this time for a crown, now I'm broke and still have toothache. This went on for months and months and ended up with me reluctantly having a root canal treatment, I suppose nobody on earth has ever had root canal treatment willingly. My final appointment for the tooth of doom was the same week I left my job.
Left the dentist, left my job, next day no toothache. Ta da!
Now some might say that this is a coincidence but I beg to differ. I didn't even realise the two experiences matched until I was going back through last years diary to check out what we got up to (I had three haircuts, one trip to the cinema and eight (yes EIGHT) trips to the freaking dentist)! When I checked the dates everything sort of clicked into place, a big OH YEAH moment.
I think my body knows me better than Dave and it was trying to tell me stuff in its own body way ie. hurting! This was to try and get my attention and to stop Dave from being in charge. My tooth was like "oh no, Dave's told her to go and get a job, better try and stop her, hope it doesn't take her too long to notice!" Yeah. Maybe next time I'll pay more attention to my body and less attention to Dave.