The internet doesn’t need another psychologist answer site, thus I’ve decided to share what’s really been going on in my head behind the therapist blank looks and smiles.
I take this step with great trepidation. I keep hearing what my father said when I became editor of my high school paper, “Barb, don’t make the mistake of thinking your life is more interesting than anyone else’s.”
Off course he had no idea that social media would turn each of us into our own press agents and humility would lose all meaning.
With my father’s warning in mind, I’m hoping you’ll recognize some of yourselves in the personal dilemmas confessed and just maybe, together we can lighten the load a bit and I’ll have an socially admired excuse for revealing the truth.
So, here goes. The voices in my head uncensored.
Tootsie the Torturer: Voice#1
The setting:
Two nights ago. Dusk. I’m wheeling home from my Spanish conversation group, the Tejano station shaking my tiny car. I’m rocking out, boldly shout-moaning out the words I imagine I understood– which means about every fifth word.
What Happened:
Boom! I messed up again. The left front tire of my little habanero orange bug had just exploded as I made a right turn. Well, to be honest, ‘had exploded’ isn’t a true description and I’m supposed to be telling the truth now instead of playing psychologist. ‘Just exploded’ would suggest a spontaneous event. An occurrence that was not my fault, which would not be true.
I didn’t get away with the ‘happened by total accident’ explanation even with the voices in my own head. Tootsie the Torturer was on the job and delighted to point out that I was responsible. So very responsible.
Tootsie the Torturer said: “Oh, don’t act so surprised. I’ve warned you about this before and your husband has tried for years and years to get you to pay more attention to the road and less attention to your steering wheel bongos. But nooooo, you think you know what you’re doing popping over curbs like cars are made for popping over curbs. Well eventually, your attitude catches up with you just like it just did. Ruined your whole day, because if you remembered to bring your cell phone (I hadn’t), it won’t have a charge (it didn’t.”
Part two of Tootsie the Torturer’s spiel always involves money. T the T: “This is going to cost a fortune. Insurance doesn’t pay for self-induced blowouts.”
Now. I’m sharing Tootsie with you because I bet you have a similar personal critic. And what I’m giving you somegthing you can say back. For starters look in your side mirror and shout:
“Give me a break! I know this psychologist down in Texas with a doctorate, books, who gets paid a lot of money because everyone thinks she must be smart–because she has all the licenses–So everyone agrees she not stupid and yet–
“You know what she did? What ultimate stupid thing she did?” You know, (sorry, Dad, for saying ‘you know’ again) Well, it happened like this. You know (sorry, Dad) –you know those unimpressive warning signs about tires at car washes, rental car pickups, and the occasional border crossing–the ones saying that driving across the grate without permission can result in serious tire damage? Yes. The ones you point at and ask your passenger, “Those signs are just to scare you, you know. I’m quite world travelled and I know that nothing will happen if I scoot through while the bar is still up from the car ahead of me.” I sped through.
Pow. Pow. Pow. Pow. Yes. I did that Twenty years of advanced education and wise parents and I did that. Mostly I remember the look on the face of the wrecker driver and Tootsie asking over and over, “Do you know how much this is going to cost?”
