The Things I Say to Myself When No One Is Listening

There are things I say to myself that I would probably never say to another person.

Not because they sound particularly terrible.

Most of them sound almost harmless.

Ordinary, even.

But I say them often enough that I’ve started wondering what they’re doing to me.

I have so much to do.

This is probably the one I say most often.

I’ll look around the house, think about work, remember something I haven’t finished, think of three more things while doing something else, and there it is:

I have so much to do.

For my ADHD brain, this is possibly one of the least helpful things I can say.

Because suddenly there isn’t one thing in front of me anymore.

There is everything.

Everything becomes one enormous, shapeless task hovering over my head.

So I’m trying to catch myself when I say it.

I don’t have to do everything.

I only have to decide what I’m doing now.

Then there’s:

I’m so tired.

Or its more dramatic sibling:

I’m so exhausted.

Sometimes I really am tired.

But I’ve noticed that repeating it doesn’t make me feel rested.

It makes tiredness become the headline of my day.

I start moving like I’m tired. Thinking like I’m tired. Becoming irritated because I’m tired.

And somehow, I feel even more tired.

So now I’m trying to describe what I actually need instead.

I need to sit down for a while.

I need a slower afternoon.

I need to stop working now.

Those sentences feel different.

They give me somewhere to go.

And then there is one I never thought I would hear myself say:

I look so ugly today.

I don’t think I had ever said that about myself before.

Then my face started having redness and rashes.

I’ve been dealing with this for years. 

There were days when I would look in the mirror and barely recognize the skin looking back at me.

And somewhere along the way, instead of thinking, My skin is having a difficult day, I started turning it into a judgment about me.

That distinction matters.

My skin can be red.

My face can have rashes.

I can dislike how either looks.

None of those things requires me to be cruel to the woman wearing them.

Maybe that’s what I’m beginning to notice about inner dialogue.

Cruelty toward ourselves doesn’t always arrive sounding cruel.

Sometimes it sounds factual.

I have so much to do.

I’m exhausted.

I look ugly.

Little sentences tossed around inside a room where we think nobody else is listening.

Except somebody is.

We are.

And remember, words are powerful. 

Perhaps gentle healing includes learning to hear ourselves.

Not so we can police every thought or replace every difficult feeling with something artificially cheerful.

Just so we can notice when our own voice has stopped being a kind place to live.

I’m working on mine.

Quietly.

One sentence at a time.

—-

With elegance and quiet fire,
Lady E
Founder, Glow by Lady E
An editorial space for stories, art, and intentional living