Talking to myself and feelin’…fine

The massive station wagon my family traveled in during the 1960s, much like this one, meant we kids could hide in the back and drive our parents crazy. Often, my father was reduced to talking to himself.

I recall traveling in the back of a baby-blue station wagon, a behemoth that I and my two siblings would pile into for what my father once referred to as, “the goddamned family vacation.”

Apparently, we kids squabbled a lot on those trips, and as many of those in my age group know, there was a lot of, “If you don’t stop, I’m turning this car around!” going on.

But there was something else happening, as well. When we kids were worn out from fighting, and all was relatively quiet, we would notice that my father would often mumble to himself. One of us would call out. “Dad! Who are you talking to!” Then we’d all giggle.

I don’t recall him ever telling us who his mystery friend was, but I do remember laughing at him.

Today, I’m reconsidering my behavior.

“Who are you talking to?” my sweetie pie called when I was slicing fruit in the kitchen.

I bit my lower lip. Who indeed?

After locating my reporter’s cap and doing some checking, I determined that muttering and saying random things out loud could be a sign of a mental health issue, like schizophrenia. And while studies show that 96% of people carry on an internal dialogue, just one in four admit to talking out loud. But don’t worry. For most of us, it’s a normal cognitive process, one that can help us reduce stress, improving our problem-solving skills, and help us organize our thoughts and feelings.

We talk to ourselves for a number of reasons. It helps us debate ideas, make decisions, and serve as a pep talk when we need one. Interestingly, talking to ourselves can also curb loneliness.

What is important is what we’re saying in those conversations with ourselves. According to Psychology Today, “The content of your self-talk is important because, believe it or not, you are the most influential person, in your head. Yes, other people can certainly influence the way we feel and think, but at the end of the day, we are the ones who accept or reject the messages received from others.”

The idea is your conversations with you should be the kind that build you up not tear you down.

There can be a certain stigma to talking to yourself, but today, with people everywhere conversing via Bluetooth, I’m guessing few even notice those of us who are chatting with no one nearby. And when you consider that the habit is said to be a healthy problem-solving tactic, I say talk away.

I just wish my father was still around so I could apologize for laughing.

“Sorry, Dad.”

Your Forgotten Sons

Inspired by a true story

Anne Montgomery

Bud Richardville is inducted into the Army as the United States prepares for the invasion of Europe in 1943. A chance comment has Bud assigned to a Graves Registration Company, where his unit is tasked with locating, identifying, and burying the dead. Bud ships out, leaving behind his new wife, Lorraine, a mysterious woman who has stolen his heart but whose secretive nature and shadowy past leave many unanswered questions. When Bud and his men hit the beach at Normandy, they are immediately thrust into the horrors of what working in a graves unit entails. Bud is beaten down by the gruesome demands of his job and losses in his personal life, but then he meets Eva, an optimistic soul who despite the war can see a positive future. Will Eva’s love be enough to save him?

Release Date: June 6, 2024

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2 thoughts on “Talking to myself and feelin’…fine

  1. sharonledwith says:
    sharonledwith's avatar

    Well said, Anne! I do miss those good old days piling in the car, arguing with my brothers, and Dad threatening to turn around the car. Hated him smoking in the car. Augh. Maybe that’s why he did mutter to himself. LOL! Cheers, and keep up that self-talk!

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    • annemontgomeryauthor2013 says:
      annemontgomeryauthor2013's avatar

      Thank you, Sharon! We didn’t have to deal with smoking, but with Mom and Dad and my brother, sister, and me there was always a lot of arguing going on. Maybe that’s why my dad would sometimes say he wished he’d been a priest. 😉

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