One of my favorite bloggers, Em, is back from a long hiatus. I am so happy to see her blogging again, and I particularly enjoyed her post yesterday about her "little voice." (And I hope she doesn't mind me posting about it.)
We all have it. It's the voice that tells us we aren't good enough. Aren't beautiful enough. Aren't in shape enough. Aren't a good enough wife. daughter. mother. sister. girlfriend. partner. It's the voice we hate, yet we listen to so often.
Em's post struck a chord with me because I've been struggling with my little voice lately. Even last night I tweeted about my desire to have an off button on my brain. A switch that I could flip when the thoughts in my head became too jumbled and loud to ignore. Of course, all of those thoughts are from my little voice:
You'll be a terrible mother.
God hates you.
Pretty soon, you'll be the only infertile left.
Who would ever give you a kid?
No one cares.
You don't deserve to have a baby.
And, much like everyone else's little voice, it's not just about infertility. It's about everything from work to school to my marriage to friendships and relationships with family members. It's the way I look, and the way people look at me.
My little voice harps on nearly every aspect of my life.
Yet I find it nearly impossible to talk back to my voice and stand up for myself - the reason why I so desperately seek an off button. And as we enter our fourth calendar year dealing with infertility, the voice only seems more prominent and difficult to drown out.
My hope for this year was to live, to stay positive about life and enjoy the ride. But how can I do this with my little voice being not so little anymore? How can I push the shouting in my head aside and keep going? I need to figure out the answers to these questions for my sanity. I need to figure out the answers so that I don't slip back below the surface.
In the meantime, I just sit here and listen to that little voice growing in one ear and the silence of my real voice in another.
It's almost impossible to bear.