CHATTER BOX

When the automatic ankle lights on my sidewalk didn’t turn off during daylight, I thought I’d have to call an electrician. Then, my neighbor, the engineer, suggested that the sensor on the light might be burned out. I said, “What sensor?” He instructed me to: “Go outside and look for it.” As I pulled the overgrown ivy, away from one of the ankle lights, that had the hidden sensor, they both magically turned off.

“I did it. I am a genius!” I shouted to myself.  Psychologists describe my outburst as “private speech: language that is spoken out loud but directed to the self.” In other words, I was talking to myself, and as Charles Fernyhough, author of The Voices Within writes: “Self talk allows us to plan what we are going to do, manage our activities and regulate our emotions.”

When someone honks at me because I refuse to turn left at a traffic light, until I see the green arrow, I usually say to myself, “I’m in no hurry. I’m retired, you poor slob!” And, if he persists, I usually mumble more words that are not fit to print. I don’t care, because when people glance over, they assume I am talking on a cell phone, and that I am a perfectly normal human being.

When I talk to myself, I can assure you that I am not suffering from auditory hallucinations. I just don’t mind the sound of my own voice, and when I talk to myself, I can be assured that someone is listening. And, if I make a mistake and say to myself, “Hey! That was really dumb,” my feelings won’t be hurt.

Observing a child at play, one is bound to see the tot engaged in a conversation with himself. When I am alone, I often talk to myself.  How is that any dumber than talking to a cat or dog? When my friend, Perry’s daughter, Rhyann was a very little girl, they had a cat named Gaucho. One day Rhyann asked him, “Daddy, how do you know that Gaucho understands what you are saying?” “Why do you ask that?” said Perry, “Because,” Rhyann answered,“ You are talking English.”

Whenever I am writing, I like to read my words aloud to hear if I am writing in my own voice, and often my words will give me a good laugh. So, like a crazy lady, I am all alone and entertaining myself without an audience.

And, I have to admit that I don’t know if anyone is listening when I pray aloud, but it makes me feel better and sometimes helps me think things through. Henry David Thoreau said, “Thinking is only a process of talking to oneself.”

I don’t know anyone who hasn’t yelled at someone appearing on his television set. Whether you are shouting at a ballplayer, because he fumbled the ball, or telling someone on the news channel that what she has just said is, “really stupid”, you do know that you are really talking to yourself. Those people can’t hear you! And, don’t forget, you can turn them off.

Self talk, whether it’s silent or vocal is comforting, and the experts tell us that it is a healthy way of dealing with life and all of the gobbledygook going on all around us. So have a good conversation with yourself. It might not help, but it can’t hurt.

Esther Blumenfeld (“And I think to myself what a wonderful world.”) sung by Louis Armstrong. Written by Thiele and Weiss.