It is not a secret that I talk. To relatives. To friends. To strangers and to the dogs that visit me when their moms and dads leave town. And, I talk to myself. Do you? Talk to yourself?
It seems the older I get and the longer I live alone, the more I talk to myself. I don’t mean when I talk to the object that has rolled under the couch that I can’t reach – I must admit that’s usually not a very nice conversation! I don’t mean when I stub my toe on the box in my hallway. Or, when a piece of clothing drops out of the basket I use to carry laundry downstairs to the washer. Or, when I’m talking to the dogs. Or, Jenny, the ghost who lives with me.
No. I mean other times. When I go into a room after something and can’t remember the reason for being there. “Why did I come in here? What am I after?” And, yes, I say that aloud. Sometimes, I have to go back to the spot where I originally thought of going into the room to figure out the purpose for being in that other room. Fortunately, only the walls can here me.
When I’m making a list of things to do in a day or a list to take to the market, I talk to myself. “What is the first thing I need to do, today?” I’ll say aloud. Or, “Is this really everything I need at the market?”
I’ll look out of the window at the leaves that floated down from my precious 110-year-old cottonwood and say, “This will be where Rita will work, next week. She’ll use the electric lawn mower, probably for the last time this year. Then, I know she’ll store it in the shed and bring the snow blower to the garage.” “What will be the first day that Keith uses it to clear snow,” I wonder aloud.
Everyday, I talk to myself about food. “What will I have for breakfast or lunch or dinner.” Lunch is pretty well take care of by Meals-on-Wheels. I may have talked about this organization before; it bears repeating that this is one of the VERY BEST organizations I’ve ever had something to do with. And, if you, dear reader, are of the appropriate age and need some assistance with at least one meal a day, give them a call in your area. If you have special needs for your nutrition, the meals delivered to you will reflect those needs. The volunteers who deliver the meals to your door are also terrific folks. I really enjoy getting to know them; and, yes, we talk.
I find that chastising myself for doing something wrong is also part of talking to myself. If something spills – “That was a good move.” If a piece of wet laundry falls on the not-too-clean concrete floor – “Now, you’ll have to rewash that garment.” And my kitchen – “I really need to get these things off of the counter. And, I need to sweep the floor.”
General conversation also happens. “Who could that be at the front door – I’m not expecting any delivery.” I am so fortunate that Daughter #3 places orders for necessary things. When they come – sometimes, the doorbell rings. Or, maybe, it’s one of my great neighbor children to take Kate for a walk.
“Okay” – I say that a lot – I mean – really a lot! I think it is reassurance that whatever I’m doing is correct. I’ll be putting away the laundry, hanging slacks or sweaters in the closet and find myself saying, “Okay.” I’ll be removing a load of laundry from the dryer and find myself saying, “Okay.” I’ll be bringing a package in from the front porch and, again, say, “Okay.” When I finish a blog or a poem, I say, “Okay.” This kind of commenting on what I’m doing goes on all day, as I work through the tasks for that day.
Does talking to myself keep me sane? I’m not sure, but I think it helps. (Of course, I’m sure there are those who think I have really lost sanity – and, that’s okay.) I do know that talking to myself gives me a “sort-of” companion – hearing my own voice helps in certain situations. I’ll continue to talk with myself about this and that. And, I encourage anyone else to do the same thing!
Okay!
Be safe and be well.
The Cranky Crone
Thoughtful comments are encouraged.
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