I have talked to myself ever since I could remember. As a kid, though I don't remember too well, I believe I must have had my set of imaginary friends with whom I would have had great chats… and the habit stuck with me, I guess.
These talks were my practice sessions, my venting out frustrations, my thinking out aloud...sometimes even my wishful thinking. These talks to myself were my escapades... into a world I had made for myself.
The conversations with imaginary friends were replaced with those to people around me...with parents when I had to tell them something I didn't have the guts to, with friends when I had to tell them that something they said had hurt me, with relatives about what I really thought about the out of place advice they gave me... coz I knew I'd never do any of it in real life.
I had to change schools every time Dad moved from one office location to another, and so I never had any long lasting friendships until the last few years of school...I was the quintessential, shy and nerdy type who took a lot of time to make friends...I was the kid who spent more time in library than in the company of other kids...I was the reserved kid who came alive only in English classes...
As a child, these talks were the pep talks which kept me charged to move from one day to the next one. These talks were my practicing the perfect chat I would have with my friends some day. These chats were what kept me occupied and happy in a strange way.
When I moved into teenage years, these chats became my stolen moments of being myself....talking over things I thought about, that mattered to me...my preparation for the witty conversations I would have with my friends the next day....my practice sessions for the perfect few lines I'd deliver if I met my crush face to face at school...
I remember this one time when Mom came into my room for something...I was busy talking to myself and hadn't seen her...I remember her asking me what I was mumbling under my breath. I told her that I was humming a song!
I enjoyed talking to myself but I had a feeling this wasn't something everyone did....I didn't want to be called a freak. So, I kept it a secret. But as time passed by, I started to grow concerned about this habit of mine. I wondered if there was something wrong with me, whether this was something that would make me stick out like a sore thumb...whether this was a problem...I had got into my twenties by then.....
I don't know why I was so worried, but I remember that once, driven to frustration, I checked with a psychologist friend of mine if it was alright if "a particular friend" of mine talked to herself while alone.
His reply was like the first rain to dry land...he said it was called 'soliloquy'...and that it was normal for people to do that.... and as long as they didn't imagine other characters to be around, it was a perfectly normal way for people to plan ahead, to think about the stuff they had to do, to even practice for important speeches.
Not convinced, I thought I suffered from a grave mental disorder and remember confiding to one of my best friends about it. As luck would have it, I married that best friend.
As time passed, I have stopped worrying and just looked at it as yet another quirkiness of mine….something that’s a part of me and that would stay with me.
These days, my conversations are with my boss (especially when the appraisal time approaches), with my parents once in a while when they treat me like a kid (at twenty seven...that's not a nice feeling), with my friends, with Prince Charming especially when we've had a fight and I couldn't think up the right point of argument at the time.... (At least, I win in my soliloquies!)...it helps me to vent off my anger at times, it helps me to avoid carrying the baggage of anger and distress to the next day…it helps me to be prepared with the perfect retort when someone decides it’s alright to be snobbish…it helps me with being able to hold an effective meeting…it even helps me to be witty at times.
The other day, I was busy talking to myself…and these days, I can be quite a loud soliloquist…I didn’t realize that Prince Charming had stationed himself right outside the bedroom door and was having ball of a time listening to the conversation I was engrossed in, hand gestures and all while in the middle of my folding clothes... (wicked man!) I don’t know how much he heard, or what he heard, but whom do I see when I turn around….a very mischievously smiling Prince Charming who proclaims that this would be the next bit of news he’d have to share with my friends and family… (I know he wouldn’t do that but…wicked wicked man!)
In my desperation, I remember telling him I was practicing what to write as my next blog post and it seemed like he bought it…so far, so good. While he had a good laugh at my expense, I tried to convince myself it wasn’t as bad as his conversations while asleep (no wonder, he decided it was pay back time…I have been giving him a tough time about his last sleep-talk episode).
So then I thought…well, why don’t I write a post about my soliloquies…and here it is!!!
I remember reading a story by Paulo Coelho once which said that it’s alright to talk to yourself…because you never know, there might be an Angel who might be listening to your words, and decide to help you solve your problems and make your wishes come true…
So then, here’s my words for that Angel who might be listening to me right now…thank you…thank you for listening me out, and thank you for being there.
So…what do you think… awaiting comments eagerly!!!