That Voice in my Head...

It started as an occasional whisper, and has gradually become a more persistent voice, making its way from background to foreground in my busy, distracted life.

It speaks with a firmness that says, "I'm not going away this time." It says, "I'm middle-aged. I'm confident. And I'm right."

The fact that I argue with it makes me seem, at first blush, to be a perfect candidate for strong meds and frequent counseling... (Does it help if I promise that I don't do this out loud, even when I'm not in public?)

In truth, though, it's simply a running dialogue, taking cover just beneath the stuff of real life: paying bills, managing work duties, attending to home needs, giving my children as much of me as possible. Yet, it's always right there.

"You know what you need to do."

"Yeah, I know what I need to do - three loads of laundry and a sink full of dishes."

"No. You know what you need to do. It's what you should have done a long time ago. It's what you've always been meant to do."

"Right, Einstein. It's what I should have done a long time ago. Before the kids. Before the mortgage. Before I had people depending on me to help them make a running start on their own life, their own destiny, their own joy. This is not the time to go all flaky on me, you stupid Voice in my Head. This is the time for you to say, 'Buck up! Stay the course! Do right by these kids, this house, these bills. Now get your unfocused behind to work!' That's what you need to be saying. And you know it."

"Nope. I don't know it. What I know is, you're not getting any younger and it's high time to start living your truth. You need to write."

"I do write."

"Twenty-eight chapters of a novel nobody's read and a blog only slightly higher numbers have read does not constitute 'writing.'"

"Well, it's going to have to do."

"Why?"

"Because the timing's ridiculous. I'll write later. On the beach, when I retire to Key West."

"So, wait. Which is it? A minute ago, you were too old. Now you're too young?"

" Helen Hooven Santmyer wrote ... And Ladies of the Club at age 88."

"Yes, and according to her, it took her 50 years to write. At this rate, you’ll be 95, so you’d better take some good vitamins and hope your mind doesn’t go before your health does.”

"I'll finish the novel in a few years, not fifty, thank you. I'll throw it out there, see who bites..."

"And that will work because... Why? Because you're such a natural, you don't need any guidance, assistance, input, education?"

"Oh, thanks for the encouragement, Voice. I thought you were the 'throw caution to the wind, follow your destiny' gal."

"I didn't say to be an idiot about it. You need guidance, education, a community..."

"I have a community. I still owe them my neighborhood association dues."

"It's time to go back to school."

"I have a degree. I've done that gig. It was a wonderful experience. I was lazy and unfocused and did just enough to get by. And I haven't won the lottery, last I checked. I have kids to put through college now. Their turn to be lazy, unfocused, and do just enough to get by."

"You've grown up. Maybe. And they'll do better than you did."

"Again, with the encouragement..."

And on it goes.

I share this, in hopes that these types of thoughts aren't unique to me. In hopes that if I admit to them publicly, they'll go away. Maybe even in hopes that someone will offer up the meds and counseling.

Nah, that's a lie. I've researched. I know it can be done. There are MFA programs for people like me, who need to work fulltime, raise a family, and also, possibly, finally live their truth. I share this, actually, in hopes that it will bring clarity to my thoughts, sharper focus to my dreams.

I've spent 45 years disrespecting my inner voice, and it's time to give that gal her say. This doesn't mean I go back to school or join a writing commune tomorrow. It means I continue to research, to explore, to listen. Maybe it's years away yet, and I'm meant to be the Octo-student or the Octo-writer instead of the Octo-mom. Maybe it’s a little sooner than that.

All I know for sure is this: that inner voice has a new inner confidence she's never had before. It's no coincidence that she's also guided by a stronger, wiser Voice now. And ultimately, He won't steer us wrong. “For I know the plans I have for you… plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

At present, though, I’m being pulled into another argument…

“Chocolate? Are you kidding me? It’s bedtime, genius. I’ll be ten pounds heavier by morning. Aren’t you the one who kept me from running today? ‘Waaahhh, it’s cold, waaahhh, that wind is awful’ You're killing your credibility here…”