I have always talked to myself, not quietly but out loud. Linda, my secretary for 11 years, never got quite used to it. She used to hear me muttering and come into the office saying something like, ‘Sorry, what did you want?’ and I’d just say, ‘Nothing, I am talking to myself.’
In later years, I used to say, ‘I love talking to myself. It all makes perfect sense and I get no backchat.’ That was just whimsy.
I don’t see anything wrong in talking to yourself and certainly it is no sign of madness or mental derangement nor even schizophrenia. It’s a way of mulling things over, vocally. So when you have an issue on which to make a decision, you have to weigh up the pros and cons. So one part of you feels one way and another feels another and for me, it helps to have a dialogue with myself.
Some days you do this in writing. You take a page of paper and draw a line down the middle with the opposing comments or questions on each side. Other days, you divide your mind into two parts and conduct the dialogue aloud. I cannot honestly say what provokes me to do one thing or the other.
I talk to inanimate objects too like the television or the computer screen. I speak aloud when I am driving too. Who cares? I don’t and I don’t think I am really mad – well maybe, just a bit.
No comments:
Post a Comment