“That voice, the one that tells you you’re worthless and stupid and ugly? It goes away, right? It’s just, like, a dumb teenage-girl thing, but then it goes away?”
S4E6, Bojack Horseman
There’s this little voice that’s followed me around, like a little lost puppy. She isn’t malicious, but her bite is sharp. But she doesn’t mean any harm, she’s just being a puppy.
I think some of us, at one point or another, told ourselves the voice would go away. We’d become secure, confident, mature. Whatever that word means.
But it didn’t go away.
If anything, it grew worse. I grew addicted to humiliation and degradation in the most mature of activities. Don’t ask me, why, I couldn’t tell you. All I know is that I need it to relax, to fall into subspace.
She wrapped herself in my conscience. A soft, subtle reminder triggered by harsh words and a feeling of unacceptance. That nobody would ever understand me. Want me. Despite crystal clear evidence to the contrary. She still suggested that perhaps I imagined the kindness and support.
I no longer expect the little voice in my head to go away.
My other, conflicting, voices reassure me. As well as the voices of loved ones that tell me I’m beautiful, kind, knowledgeable, and other lovely descriptors. Even the occasional compliment in my inbox that says strangers find me comforting and thought provoking. It doesn’t stop the “bad” voices, but it provides a nice contrast.
Not that I need to stop them. I don’t bother with smothering that pesky little voice. I, as a kind soul pointed out, have come to a “radical acceptance” of myself, the good and the so-called bad. I think Miss Pesky, as a matter of fact, keeps me humble. A symbiotic voice among the multitudes. Which is not a bad thing.
So I shall go about my day and try, as best I can, to listen to the voices that I choose. And live my life knowing I’m doing my small part to make it better– regardless of the annoying noise that, I have no doubt, will continue to follow me.
