"Listening is a magnetic and strange thing, a creative force. The friends who listen to us are the ones we move toward. When we are listened to, it creates us, makes us unfold and expand."
- Karl Menninger
I am blessed with three fabulous, creative friends who listen to me and all my whining from time to time. The last few days I've done quite a bit of it, too. They listen, and then give me the swift kick in the rear (in love) that is much needed.
I think this is why I love writing, too. Writing allows me to "talk" to the page. And the page listens. No interruptions. It doesn't roll its eyes at me, or pop its tongue and shake its head in disgust. The page listens.
Writing gives me a voice.
At one time, I didn't have a voice. Even when I tried to speak, my cries for help went unheard by those who should have listened. Now, I look back and see how my Inner Critic, that voice that stifles my writing at times, comes from my past. Inside, that Voice yells at me, letting me know how stupid I am, how ridiculous my ideas are, how nobody will care, and everybody will laugh at me.
The Inner Critic is that little girl I once was. The little girl I left behind so long ago. Her mouth was taped shut because it had to be. Her words were cut off, and made unimportant. Sometimes that little girl wriggles free from the rope that binds her hands, and rips the tape off her mouth. She kicks and screams and yells. She's scared. Scared of being right. Scared of being wrong.
I am learning to nurture that sweet little girl. She didn't feel a lot of love at one time. That's why she's stuck in the past, stuck being a little girl. She can't help it.
Today I will put that Inner Critic in her place. I will hug her and then sternly tell her to be quiet. Today that lost little girl will be the woman that she is, strong in her own power. That woman, that little girl, is me.