Sunday, October 9, 2011

Have you seen my voice? Or my ovaries?

Somewhere along the line I have lost my voice. Really, I still have a voice but I have an inability - a paralyzing fear sometimes - to use it. I feel like a wuss. I feel like I have no balls or, more accurately, no ovaries. After all, I never had balls (thankfully).

It's kind of funny. My job often includes being the voice of someone. I can do that. Those words aren't mine. I have no responsibility for that.

I have a lot to say, really. I want to tell some people in my life that they're very important to me. I can't. I want to tell others that I'm not happy with the relationship I have with them. I can't do that either. I just kind of go through my life not saying much of anything. It doesn't do me any good.

I grew up feeling I didn't have a right to think certain things. I wasn't supposed to call boys. I wasn't supposed to go out - even to the grocery store - without lipstick. There were a bunch of rules I was supposed to follow but most of the time I didn't. When my mother would find out I called a boy, went out without lipstick - whatever stupid rule it was, I would get a lecture. I spoke up then but somewhere along the line I think I realized that people didn't really listen to what I said. Then I just shut up.

Sometimes the quiet is because I have no tact and I know it. I worry so much about what I'm going to say that it's just easier to say nothing. Sometimes it's to avoid a fight. Sometimes it's to avoid hurting someone's feelings. Sometimes it's because I know I have so much stuff pent up in me that if I start to talk, it won't end. Rarely is it because I have nothing to say.

I think people who grew up with me would not describe me as quiet. I was a chatty kid. I'm still a chatty person with those I'm comfortable around. Then something happens and I'm quiet. I think my ex, my current, my friends would be surprised at all the thoughts that go around in my head. I tell my kids every day that I love them. I listen to what they say, their fears, their dreams or whatever it is they want to tell me. I don't ever want them to think their voice is unimportant. It is important. Always.

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