Talk, Talk, Talk

Now that the CWP is launching and I’m taking my writing more seriously, I spend large swaths of time alone. Some days the only conversations I have are those taking place in my busy brain. In the old days, talking to myself was one of my most maladaptive habits; one that frequently involved beating myself up and one that I worked hard to eradicate. Initially concerned when I recently noticed an increase in interior conversation, on reflection I realized that a shift had occurred. That maybe I don’t have to throw the baby out with the bathwater. Because these days the dialogue is rarely a bludgeoning tool; far more often it reflects the curiosity that has helped spur my growth and creativity. So while there’s no replacement for human connection, I’ve decided to embrace my imaginary conversations for now.

Once upon a time, the interior chatter was so constant I could have used a switchboard operator. I was running a three-ring circus of dysfunction. There was the almost constant, noisy transmission from my inner critic. Prudence, as I once nicknamed her, would endlessly chide and berate me for all manner of shortcomings, second-guessing my every decision and action. Then there was my inner teen, clamoring for attention, approval, or for justice. These were also one-sided broadcasts in which, swaddled in my martyrdom like a velvet cape, I declared in detail how I’d been hurt and why mine was the correct point of view. And then I exacted devastating verbal revenge. Finally, there was my escape into fantasy. These were two-way “encounters” in which everyone involved effortlessly said the perfect thing. Where a high school crush and I confessed our uninterrupted longing for each other, or where a childhood friend and I mended our fences.

Being an introvert and a tad neurodivergent, I don’t think I’ll ever be devoid of internal chatter. I’m happy to report, though, that for the most part, I’ve managed to flip the script. My inner critic has been politely but firmly informed that her services are no longer necessary. My inner teen has quieted down thanks to some validation and self-advocacy. And while I doubt I’ll ever renounce fantasy completely, I’m no longer desperately seeking an escape from reality.

Of course, these changes didn’t happen overnight. There were years where my desire for approval and my fear of abandonment were still pretty ferocious, which led to all sorts of imaginary discussions. So I’d moved on from ranting at those who I felt had wronged me to earnest discussions in which I clarified for a lover, in excruciating detail, my position on a subject he might not agree with, or in which I explained to a family member, in a way that maybe this time they could understand, why I wasn’t willing to continue to play my prescribed role in the family drama. Spoiler alert: 99% of the time this was wasted effort. A wave of exhaustion washes over me just thinking of it now.

More recently, there did come a time when the majority of my conversations took place in the real world. My inner critic had been replaced by an inner cheerleader and my inner teen was mostly quiet. My rehearsed scripts became mostly limited to experimenting with options for my side of a difficult upcoming conversation. The mental space and energy freed up by this change resulted in huge leaps in my intuition and creativity, and, not surprisingly, more authentic relationships. Now, in a transitional season of my life, I’ve noticed an uptick in detailed conversations with people who aren’t in the room. Am I regressing?

I might be mistaken, but I believe that these conversations are different. I think they may have finally fully transformed into a positive creative outlet. They are now infrequently defensive, or negative, or escapist. Instead, they mostly take the form of a conversation with a beloved person in which I can get curious about myself: about my thoughts, feelings, and actions. It’s sort of a form of mental journaling with the added twist of the imagined input of someone who knows and loves me. So I might “discuss” my reactions to my family dynamic with someone I’ve known since childhood, or “discuss” my feelings about my sexuality with a close friend I once had a relationship with. Could I not actually contact these people to have these discussions? Yes, I can and I do. And yet the sheer volume of changes I’m processing right now makes it logistically impossible to do so every time.

So instead of worrying, or admonishing myself (conversations I no longer enjoy), I’ve decided to embrace this development as a fun way to encourage further growth. To stay awake and curious during what is surely a passing season of my life. And my loved ones may not always know it, but they’re supporting my progress and getting a break.

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Let’s talk! Do you carry on conversations in your head? Are they with yourself or others? Both? Do they seem to focus on a particular subject? Have you ever tried writing them out? Had an epiphany?