Talking To Myself

I have a confession to make. I have a habit that developed in childhood that seems to have only gotten worse as I age. Sweetie finally said something about it last week, and called it creepy. I've tried to stop, really I have. It really seems impossible. I know I'm not the only one that does this, but...

I talk to myself.

A lot.

I think this behavior falls into one of three categories. Either I'm thinking out loud, running through scenes for stories out loud, or I'm practicing conversations for the future.

I'm pretty sure that most people at some point in their lives have spoken their thoughts aloud. There's benefits to hearing something spoken. It can sound just fine in your head, but once it actually hits your ears, you realize how stupid it is. These are cases when talking aloud by yourself is a huge benefit. No one else needs to know that you were contemplating writing a musical about dancing flamingos in spandex pantsuits.

I've had the story I worked on for NaNo developing in my head for about four years now. There are four different stories within the story arc. That's a lot of scenes and quite a few characters. But I have other stories with other characters, too. That's a lot of people crowding up my thinking, and sometimes I just need an outlet. So, I talk to them; they talk back. It's fine until someone overhears you. I may need to put a Bluetooth headset in my ear permanently for when this happens in public.

That would actually help with the last one, too. I practice conversations before they happen. Maybe it's part of my introversion. Maybe it's unrelated social anxiety, but there are times when I feel more prepared for dealing with someone if I have practiced the conversation a few times to get a feel for how it is likely to go. Sometimes I know the conversation is inevitable, other times I'm practicing an unlikely-to-occur event for the fun of it--I've actually used those once or twice.

But then you get caught. I have been caught. It's embarrassing. Even though I'm not doing a single thing wrong, just a little weird. Should it really be called creepy, though. If I'm mumbling about killing someone, ok, yes. But simply complaining aloud about a talking cat that is too smug for his whiskers? That's not creepy…at least I hope it's not.

I am sincerely trying to at least be more aware of what I'm doing when I talk to myself. I've become hyper aware of just how much I do it. But I don't really want to quit because, let's face it, it's fun.


Want to read more about my introverted misadventures?
Check out these posts:

I Hugged a Stranger
Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
Shhhh...I'm Introverting