I talk to myself. I have for years. I used to try to hide it. Maybe I still do.When my children were preschool age, I was home with them give or take a part time job here or there. Do you remember what that’s like? Some of you are still in that place. I remember it well. It was a lot of noise, but not a lot of conversation. Those years were a great time in the life of our family, but they didn’t provide me with a lot of opportunities to exchange information interesting to someone over the age of 4. So, I would sometimes “practice” what I would tell Gary when he got home after work. I clearly remember times when I would say something out loud and then edit it – saying it different ways. I would repeat this process until I had it nailed solidly in place – exactly what I would tell him.
Two things happened. First, as soon as he walked through the door, I started in on the soliloquy I had practiced and perfected throughout the day. I’m sure he loved that. Or not.
Second, once he was home, I would still sometimes talk to myself. “Are you talking to yourself?” he’d ask. Because I wanted to be everything he wanted me to be (which, in my mind meant someone who probably didn’t talk to herself) (maybe I have insecurity issues), I would answer either, “No, I’m singing” and then promptly proceed to sing, or