Who Are You Talking To?

Who do I think I am, posting 2 blogs with such a short break in between?

Hi, I'm back and clearly feeling motivated to write. It happens occasionally, motivation creeping up on me that is.

I guess I'm at my most creative shortly after a down spell.

My little brain re-lives that period of time and goes crazy with writing ideas .. I've actually started creating draft blogs of just titles so that I don't forget about them. (Although some I should forget about and not share with the world)

I get a lot of 'are you OK?' questions after I post something deep and dark so I just wanted to clear up that, yes, I'm OK.

I've learnt over-time how to help myself. Everyone is different in that respect and for me it seems to work by initially hiding myself away ... I create distance between everyone which I'm sure is highly frustrating but once I sort my head out, I end up on a high.

I re-gain the motivation I'd previously lost, the energy creeps up from the crashing low and these fingers start tapping away at keys.

Basically, you should be more worried if I'm quite. However, please don't worry.

So, I wanted to talk about something today that I have noticed escalating a lot more over the last year.

Back in the later part of last year, I started to notice that I was talking to myself. I always knew that I did it occasionally

'milk goes in the fridge Tash'

'better get started on dinner'

'where did I put my phone'

but when I now speak of 'talking to myself' this stuff is irrelevant.

Talking to myself is like having a full blown conversation with someone I know, but isn't really there. It's like I'm acting out a scene for a movie that I've created in my head. Doing the voice for my parts and nodding away as if the invisible person in front of me is continuing the conversation.

Normally these situations would happen if I was feeling anxious or insecure. Say for instance, I'd had an argument with someone and walked away knowing that I said the wrong thing or didn't say enough ... I'd then have that imaginary conversation all over again but this time saying what needed to be said and refraining myself from saying things I probably shouldn't have said.

These conversations were normally confrontational. Like I was talking to my anxiety but my anxiety was a person, a person I knew, who wasn't physically there.

When I first started noticing them, I would notice early on in the conversation, would laugh at myself and forget about it but they started to escalate.

These 'little' chats would go on for so long, and my speaking voice was becoming louder. What started as me muttering under my breath, soon became me actually stopping the washing up to finish an out loud natter.

I started to panic because soon I had gone from doing this while I was alone, to finding myself doing this whilst my husband was in the house.

I'd start a dream scene in the bathroom or my bedroom and noticed that my conversation would continue as I walked down the hall.

I worried that he'd see and think I was crazy, I worried that I'd leave the house and be seen doing it in public, I thought I was crazy.

I remember telling him about these feelings and how I was worried for my sanity. The hours I spent scrolling through internet pages and convincing myself I had schizophrenia and how my symptoms were incredibly close to being Bipolar.

The later being not far off, I do show signs of Bipolar and it does worry me occasionally.

However, he did his research, he tried to show me the good signs of talking to myself. How it could just mean I'm highly intelligent .. yes, you can laugh.

I knew this wasn't the case though, not with the type of conversations I had. These were not your run of the mill self-motivation chats - these were and are full blown imaginary scenarios ... what the fuck.

I told my closet friends this too and they helped to re-assure me at the time that I wasn't crazy and that by talking to real life humans about it was probably the best thing for me. They were right.

For a while things were improving. Sure, I still had my play to rehearse for from time to time but it was no where near as frequent as before.

Until now.

The one night a week show is now back in full swing and I find myself rehearsing daily.

Whats worse, I've been seen doing it.

I walk home from school, muttering under my breath, making facial expressions like I'm really into whatever I'm chatting about and then looking up I see people looking from cars. Yes, OK, maybe they didn't see, maybe it's all in my head but please tell my head that.

I end up following this by rummaging through my bag, 'Eugh, where did I put my key' just to make it look like I was 'sanely' talking to myself.

I don't mind if I have a little role play party in the privacy of my own home but it certainly puts a spanner in the works when I apparently cannot control it in public.

Maybe I should start wearing headphones so it looks like I'm either on the phone or miming away to the music playing in my ears.

I remember doing something similar as a kid ... common girls, you know what I'm talking about ... singing into your hairbrushes, introducing your imaginary band, thanking the crowd and all that jazz. Why can't these scenarios be like that anymore? A girl can still dream right, so why can't I just act out those dreams.

Maybe I should join the theater, or the circus? seems fitting.

The reason I'm writing about this now is not only because it has increased again but because I think it closely links to my last post about intrusive thoughts.

Maybe I just have a very vivid imagination. The scenes in my head are too much for such a small space that I have to let them out into the world?

A family member suggested I turn these 'visions' into fictional stories and I don't think that's the worst idea. I've been told before by a close friend that my future involves writing and her spiritual connections keep telling me that book/story writing is on the cards so I had thought about this before.

Maybe it's worth a try, turning those fictional thoughts from my head into actual fiction. Hopefully, tricking my brain into knowing the truth ... it's all fiction, it's all crap, it's all a mess.

I feel I've rambled too much and am no longer sure of what I'm trying to achieve here but as always, please remember;

You are not alone

It's OK, not to be OK

You are loved

It's OK to speak out & ask for help.

Much Love,

The Anxious Mother x