The Voices in My Head

Ah - the voices in my head.

 

Don’t give me that look. Like it's a bad thing. 

 

Long time no…write. Anonymously. To people I know, those I marginally am acquainted with and complete strangers who inexplicably wend their way to my blog. 

 

Yeah - so I’ve had an intense few months. (Excuse me while I turn up one of my favourite songs. Hotel California by the Eagles. I know every note and nuance.)

 

Ah - OK. So where was I? Yes - an intense few months. B3 and I bought a house in case I didn’t communicate that. A roller coaster of emotion and with the “new mortgage rules” a clash of common sense vs. the imaginary. Don't get me started. The process took months and we didn't know if we would ever get this house. But - here we are - as of February 28th - in our new house. A big, big beautiful old house with a big, big, beautiful yard. And all of it somewhat neglected and *gag* filthy. 

 

I have just, in the past 36 or so hours, come up for air. And by air, I mean, I have hit a wall and am (hoping) to change course a little. And by that I mean, I am going to try and stop pushing, pushing, pushing myself to get is ALL accomplished. Ain’t gonna happen. 

 

And herein lies the reason for this blog. One of the reasons I’m taking pause are those voices in my head. 

 

While I was repainting and cleaning every square inch of our carriage house (yes - we have a “carriage house” - sounds so fancy) I had my best friends voice in my head the entire time. You have to be a best friend to get away with such comments. But her voice was there in my head as I was climbing ladders and scrubbing floors and moving furniture from morning until night. She unabashedly took full license to proclaim “Netty, we’re not as young as we used to be.” “We’re old Netty!” I actually phoned her one night (she’s in Saskatchewan) and told her to get out of my head! I couldn’t really argue with her. She was right. I’m getting too close to (ugh) 60 (and that is the LAST time I will say that number) and the body just won’t do as much as it used to. Nor will it bounce back as quickly. Not without a LOT of complaining - and medication. 

 

Nevertheless, I transformed our carriage house and with a healthy supply of Robaxacet and a nightly dose of hot tub (yes - we have a hot tub. Also sounds fancy). I have been pushing my body since move in date to answer the demands of the endless list of to-do’s around this place. Easter weekend I determined that I needed to do better. Take some time for myself. A little recreation with a friend. A time out or two. Good Friday was my down day. Pat, pat, pat. Good Job Annette! I dedicated Saturday to yard work because alas, it was the ONE day of sun we were going to get for quite some time. Around 5 pm, my body said “Uh, we’re done. If you bend over, you won’t get back up”. OK point taken. The following day was Easter Sunday. It’s a Sunday - it’s a day of rest. So you know, I was leisurely. After the Sunday service I…planted a few plants while it wasn’t raining. Then you know… I may have weeded the front garden - while it wasn't raining. Then cooked an Easter meal for B3 and I. Easter Monday, B3 and I proceeded to move furniture from our cottage (yes - another outbuilding - and yes, sounds fancy. It’s not fancy yet. I need to clean and paint…) to our basement. I also did a few loads of laundry. And organized the basement. I woke up on the Tuesday and my body HURT. Head to toe. I needed to get to work. But alas - another voice in my head. Janet - with that look on her face - asking me about my mis-placed priorities. About my own self-care. I struck a compromise. I took some pain meds and gave myself a few hours to let my body find some relief. And then I…well, I went to work. Whereupon I met the next and newest member of the voices in my head. Hennie. 

 

Hennie is a volunteer at the hospital. His son is a doctor. I got Hennie his volunteering gig and well - when he’s on shift - I always stop and we have a conversation. Sometimes it’s a long conversation. I like him. He likes me. Inevitabley he asks how I’m doing and how the house is coming along. I tell him that my body is hurting with all the work it's been. So sore. And then he drops this profound little nugget in my lap. "All self-inflicted” He says.

 

Yes Hennie - my situation is definitely all self inflicted. 

 

So, I’m sitting here on my deck, enjoying a cocktail (it’s spring, so it’s a Lavender martini), and listening to the Classic Rock station on a sunny evening after work and I’m contemplating the voices in my head. Lizzy, Janet, Hennie. And I'm sensing a theme. And the message is clearly that I need to claw back my life from this self-imposed, unreasonable pursuit of perfection and find a balance between the daunting to-do list, my own expectations, the imaginary expectations of others, and what brings me rest and joy and fulfillment. 

 

Those voices in my head are advocating for me. Why would I be so rude to ignore them?

 

There was a time when my head was filled with voices that did the opposite. Their only message was to dismantle and shame me. In the midst of them though, there was Margaret, who was my lifeline through the hardest times of my life. Whose voice in my head said “some people try to take away your dignity and sometimes you are hard pressed to get it back.” She got me from my knees to my feet on hundreds of occasions. And over the past few years, Janet has helped dislodge and discard those destructive voices.

 

Yes - it’s the voices in my head - the ones who care and advocate for me - that I am grateful for. Time to take heed, I think.